Uncharted Territory

We are entering unchartered territory here.

Or at least territory most people prefer to avoid, myself included.

I am talking about the territory of pain and suffering and tragedy. 

In my last post I did some theological hypothesizing about God and tragedy.

Where is God in the midst of tragedy?  I think any answer to this question needs to be considered within concrete situations involving real pain and suffering.  Providing answers to tragedy while wrestling with it in the abstract often leads to unhelpful platitudes and clichés that ultimately do more harm than good.  So, in an effort to deal with tragedy in the concrete, I wrestled out loud with a very specific and concrete situation – why was our son born with Down syndrome?

I received a variety of responses from that post.  Some people thanked me while others got upset with me.  Some people questioned me while others agreed with me.  But out of all the responses, two themes emerged. 

Theme 1 = I can totally relate to what you are going through. 

Over the last several weeks, I’ve received many emails and had many conversations with those who have been on the receiving end of well intentioned but hurtful comments while enduring painful hardship.  One woman, who struggled for years with infertility, shared how one friend tried to help by saying, God won’t let someone as good as you not be able to have kids.  She said she spent years struggling with why she wasn’t good enough for God.  Another woman shared, with tears in her eyes, how someone challenged the depth of her faith in light of her daughter’s autism.  If your faith were stronger, God would heal your daughter.  She spent years blaming herself and praying for more faith.  Another friend told me about how a family lost their child in a tragic accident and how at the funeral a woman stood up and compared this loss to having to put their dog down a week earlier.  These kinds of comments, unfortunately, are all too common.  Someone dies.  Our loss is heaven’s gain.  Someone is overwhelmed.  God never gives you more than you can handle.  Someone experiences relational betrayal.  What they intended for harm, God intends for good.  Life is spinning out of control.  God is still on the throne.    

One thing has become very clear to me over the past few weeks…

We Christians aren’t very good at actually comforting those in pain.

Now some want to push back here in the name of good intentions. 

These comments are well intentioned.  And it’s intention that really matters.  So grace should cover whatever hurt such statement might cause.  Let me be clear.  I agree that grace does have a role to play here.  But so does thinking past intentions.  Good intentions simply aren’t enough.  We need to think beyond mere intentions and consider the actual content of what we are communicating and how that content might actually be received and internalized by the other person.  And here’s the thing…we already do this all the time!  If you want to convince your wife to let you have a guy’s night out, you will likely think through how to present your request in a way that she will answer favorably.  You strategize on how you will present your request in terms of content, timing, tone of voice, etc.  If you are in sales, good intentions matter little if you don’t consider how the potential buyer is going to actually respond to you.  The marketing industry is built on this premise.  The same goes for evangelism.  A lot of well-intentioned people have done a lot of damage in Jesus’ name by not adequately thinking through how they will be perceived.  Should grace be extended to well-intentioned but hurtful comments?  Yes, but people also need to think past intentions.  To fail to do so places way too much weight on the person already experiencing pain.  Now the person grieving not only has to continue to work through their pain and suffering, but also has to shoulder the responsibility of insensitive comments in the name of grace.

Here’s the other theme that I am noticing… 

Theme 2 = How do we comfort people in pain?

In light of the above, many people confessed to me that they want to say helpful things to people struggling and in pain, but often don’t know what to say to be helpful.  They feel conflicted, wanting to show support and encouragement, but scared they might say the wrong thing.  I get that.  I’ve been there myself.  So here is how I try to approach people in suffering. 

I try to avoid the most common mistakes. 

The two most common mistakes I think people make when relating to people enduring pain and suffering is to minimalize their pain and or attack their pain.  Minimalization is usually at the heart of our clichés and platitudes.  While in some sense we acknowledge that pain is present, we gloss over the pain in an attempt to put a positive spin on the situation.  If you go back and read the clichés above, you’ll notice that is what each of them have in common.  They acknowledge the pain, but don’t enter into it.  They gloss over it using positive but poorly applied theology.  And because of this, such statements fail with regard to intention.  Despite any stated attempt to be helpful, such an approach fails to truly bring comfort or encouragement or support to the person in pain.  Typically when minimalization doesn’t work, people then resort to attacking the pain, or at least how the person is handling the pain.  You shouldn’t feel that way.  You just need to trust God and lean into him.  The Bible says to be content in every circumstance.   Now look, if you’ve ever made either of these mistakes, don’t beat yourself up.  Truth be told, I’ve made both of these mistakes a number of times, even when I was trying to avoid making them!  So there is no guilt here.  This is not a guilt thing, this is an awareness thing.  Let’s be aware of how minimalization and attacking pain actually increases pain.   

Enter into the pain and be present there. 

Author and blogger Amy Julia Becker, who has a daughter with Down syndrome, talks about the difference between compassion and pity in her book A Good and Perfect Gift.  With both compassion and pity, the person attempting to offer comfort will say, I am sorry.  But the difference between compassion and pity is what takes place after.  With pity, the statement I am sorry is followed by movement away from the person in pain.  Distance gets the final word.  With compassion, on the other hand, the words I am sorry are followed by movement toward the person in pain.  Presence gets the final word.  Entering into the pain of another and being present requires compassion—not pity.  It’s uncomfortable, to be sure.  No one likes to be around pain and suffering.  But often times our compassion, which is really just pity in disguise, is driven by our own discomfort.  We need to be willing to face our own discomfort in order to be present to people in pain.  And often times the first step to entering pain is to just be present, without saying anything.  This is what Job’s friends got right.  It’s when they opened their mouths (with good intentions, mind you) that things went down hill.  What would it look like to simply enter the pain of another without trying to fix the situation and just be present?

The interesting thing is that this posture, of just being honest and real and present to pain, is found throughout the Bible.

Read the Psalms. 

There is actually a kind of Psalm called a Lament.  At the heart of lament, is crying out to God in pain while striving for trust.  Pain and trust.  How long, Lord?  Will you forget me forever?  How long will you hide your face from me?  (Ps. 13:1)…But I will trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation (Ps. 13:5).  Laments teach us to be honest with God in our pain, not gloss over it.  The interesting thing is that if you tried to find a contemporary worship Lament, you would come up short.  We don't know how to sing this way anymore. 

Jesus never glossed over pain.  He entered in.

Jesus’ friend Lazarus died.  And when Lazarus’ sisters came to Jesus in their pain, he didn’t respond with some cutesy cliché – Heaven gained another angel today.  Don’t be upset, the Bible says to rejoice always.  Jesus didn’t do that.  It says he wept.  Jesus wept.  He entered in.  And this is what we see him consistently doing when he encounters pain and suffering. 

The other day we experienced a medical emergency with Griffin. 

He developed croup, which worsened and started to affect his lungs.  I rushed out of work to meet Josie at the doctor’s office.  While on the way, I got a text from a co-worker.  I am sorry you have to go through this.  We are here for you. 

That’s all I needed in that moment.      

Enter into the pain in relationally appropriate ways

A final item to consider is the relationship you currently have to the person experiencing pain.  There is a huge difference between an acquaintance, a casual friend, and a close friend.  Typically, the closer the relationship, the more appropriate it will be for you to both be present to the person in pain and speak to that pain when invited in to do so.  But that doesn't mean that a mere acquaintance can’t make a huge difference.  When we were told that Griffin had Down syndrome, there were countless people we didn’t know very well who sent cards, cooked us meals, and in other ways communicated support.  None of it involved theology or clichés.  Just little touches that said, We are here for you and we care about you.  Those little touches made all the difference in the world!  It’s when acquaintances and even casual friends try to speak into the pain that things often turn sour.  It’s in the context of close relationship that speaking into pain is most natural, especially when invited in to do so.

I remember visiting with my sister over Christmas and she confessed to me – Mac, I love you and am here for you.  But I sometimes don’t know what to say.   

What an honest admission.  And a true one! 

When you don’t know what to say, just say that.  I don’t know what to say. 

And often times you don’t know what to say because there is nothing to say.  So just be present.