Suffering. Gotta hate it. No one wants to go through it. No one wants to watch others do it. And certainly none of us wants to cause it.

But we do want to explain it, yet rarely do our attempts to understand or explain suffering assist those who actually are suffering.

Most of us can easily see the theological errors committed by those who would claim natural disasters such as earthquakes and hurricanes are God’s wrathful punishment of sin. We can see why Job’s suffering was neither his fault nor God’s plan for making him a better person in the future. Sadly, though, our means of understanding and explaining suffering are often no better. They are only more subtle.

For the past couple of decades I have been deeply honored by individuals and families who have allowed me to enter the sacred space of their suffering. Indeed, many times I have been called to bring the love of God to bear in the most painful of situations. The death of a child, the death of a mother, the sins of a husband.

Inside the sacred space of suffering I have heard many lovingly whispered explanations for and answers to suffering.

  • You child is in a better place, you should be happy for that.
  • God is making you a better person with all of this.
  • God will punish [insert name of the errant spouse].
  • Things could always be worse.

On the surface there is truth in all of these statements; it is when we peer below the surface that we can see the difficulties in them. Yes, heaven is a better place. But the grief of a parent screams, “I want my daughter here now! This world is not a better place without her!” Indeed, God will make us better people as he redeems our suffering through our growth in him. Does that mean I must welcome suffering with open arms? Of course vengeance is the Lord’s, but for a man or woman who loves the betraying spouse that is little comfort.

Things could always be worse. But that does not ease the real suffering of the present (though it is quite effective at inducing guilt for the sufferer).

In the sacred space of suffering God calls me to bear witness to pain. To acknowledge the unfairness and injustice of suffering. To be a quiet whisper of his love in the midst of it all, reminding that he is present and loving and always will be. He calls me to walk through it with his children, not to understand it or explain it away.

Into the sacred space of suffering God calls us all to enter softly.

Today has been set aside for study for a couple of weeks now. Several uninterrupted hours in the library of Harding Graduate School, resting in the space of God with his word, his Spirit, and the treasures he has revealed over the centuries. That’s how I planned this day. But, one interruption after another changed the shape of my day.

A friend invited me to join her at a Lenten service preceded by a lunch of Fish Pudding and Boston Cream Pie. My first response was, “Fish pudding?!?” My second was, “No, I’ve committed tomorrow to study.” But then, in the spirit of soaking in the presence of God, I decided perhaps I ought to join Linda for an adventure into Lenten Land.

The fish pudding was, of course, not pudding per se. It was more of a fishy casserole. Not bad, but not one I’m likely to repeat. The Boston Cream Pie, however, was the best ever! The conversation with a fellow-sojourner was delightful. And the Lenten service provided just the bit of calm soaking in God’s presence this day called for.

As I listened to the gentle voice of Rev. Dr. Mitzi Minor speak of the love of God that initiates the healing process, I felt my mind, spirit, and body relax. Dr. Minor told engaging stories as she invited us not only into the healing love, but to be conduits of the love that heals to this broken world.

And I realized, this is the day God planned for me. This was the space he wanted me to enter to find his treasure for today. The library will always be there, but rarely is there an opportunity to stop in the flow of the week and simply be in His presence with His people to soak.