PR for Pain

I’m staring at the corner of my wall thinking about a four-letter word: pain. I’ve experienced a lot of it. Something even past it that the definition of the word can’t quite capture its true depth. Over the years, I’ve learned to embrace it. But not before I had to learn to brace myself for it. Almost like a roller coaster ride that you know is getting ready to flip you upside down and inside out, except no part of you finds any thrill in this. And the only similarities are that you’re ready to get off this ride when you reach the end. Yet somehow, you march yourself back to that starting line to do it again… whether sooner or later. Hello Pain.

Pain has a bad reputation amongst the majority of us. But today, I want to step in as its PR director and briefly tell you about the good in pain, sharing both perspective and results. Because there is good if you select the right lens through which to view such an unfortunate thing. And that good I’ll describe here can be summed up in three words: gifts, glory, and gentleness.

Gifts. I woke up after a rough night of intermittent sleep, somehow still determined to make it to my destinations on time: preschool and work. My final task before heading out the door was getting my small child ready. I felt bad for him because I knew he had had little sleep (the main reason I had had little sleep). As I turned him about in his bed, I felt every parent’s dreaded temperature – hot. Sure enough, it measured over 100 degrees. I guess we were staying home.

By the next morning his internal state had returned to normal; however, he wasn’t in the clear for school. It happened to be the day of our holiday party at work. I didn’t want to miss it and was pleased it now seemed I wouldn't have to. We had many gifts to exchange, and my CEO decided she didn’t want Josh to be left out. A coworker was assigned the task of shopping for him that morning, in which she found much delight. And every gift was something he would enjoy: fidget toys that kept him entertained in between bowling sets, sticky stars to add to his wall over his newly decorated rocket comforter set, a rotating snowflake ball to light up his room at night, and his own gem mining kit fit with dirt to go digging.

What I saw in all this is that though it rerouted my day some, made us both tired, and had him not feeling so well that first day, the inconvenience of pain brought about the joy of gifts he would not have received without it. His gifts were tangible, and perhaps pain could bring about the same for you. But let’s not overlook the intangible rewards to be gained. Perhaps, it is a mindset shift that was needed or a character trait now instilled. When you consider your pain, what wrapped gifts were you pleasantly surprised with on the other side?

Glory. I had never heard anyone speak with such enthusiasm about pain. And yet here I was on the other side of the phone with a dropped jaw in excitement too. My spiritual mom spoke nearly 73 ½ miles per hour about what God had done and was doing through her pain. And she was glad. Did you hear me? And she was glad. A lot of people on the other end of that conversation would not have found such glee in the circumstances she described: in and out of hospitals and doctor offices with the medical bills to match, over a month of missed work at a fairly new job, a long cycle of the same that had gone on for years now, and a litany of pains for which there seemed to be no cause or cure. And yet there was a cause.

What she described could have only been a work of God. For she said that she had endured it all for His glory. And she would gladly embrace the pain again that she may suffer well for Him. Now I’ve gone through some things. And I could profess that at times I did it for the Lord, but I was never that ecstatic about it. Scrolling through my mental rolodex just to make sure. Nope, not ever that much exuberance in all my life. Yet her perspective and willingness to suffer strengthened, encouraged, and even challenged my faith. Don’t get me wrong – I still don’t want pain. But it made me want to walk through pain when I would inevitably have to again like she was – gracefully and joyously.

I’m reminded of the story when the disciples asked who sinned such that the man on the side of the road would be born blind. Him? His parents? Inquisitive minds needed to know how he ended up with such an ill fate. And do you know how Jesus replied? No one. Not him. Not his parents. Not even the past sins of his generational line had caused this. Instead, Jesus’ response was that his blindness was now an opportunity to point to the glory of God (John 9:1-3). This isn’t always the case for us. Sometimes our pain is caused by our sin and misdeeds. At other times, it's caused by others. And we try to find some body to which to point our finger. But what if we need to point up instead? What if, no matter how this pain came about, it is an opportunity that the God of heaven may be glorified?

Gentleness. My last nugget on pain is one for which I am quite acquainted, though still obviously need some work on. I’m pretty sure we’re supposed to stop putting our toes in our mouths at about the age of one, yet here I was still struggling to get my whole foot out of mine. And if I’m honest, I think the Lord is still using pain to do it. I certainly see growth. As I look back over just the past several years of my life, there’s much evidence of how I needed pain to shred my sharp edges. My tongue has often been a razor with no guard. And it has nicked and cut the least expectant.

The beauty of my pain is that it taught me gentleness. It was not a straight road to become a well-versed student (in fact, I’m still in class). For I first had to suffer. And in suffering I could now empathize with sufferers in a way in which I could not before. This suffering humbled me. And this humility made me so utter words that were gentle and kind. I remember an ex telling me that I never acknowledged my faults or apologized. Pain helped me see past their faults and finally see my own. Even though I’m not deliberate in my aim to harm anymore, I still find myself hitting a target.

I don’t hesitate and wrestle with an internal argument in haughtiness quite as long as before though. Perhaps the persistence of God does not allow me. Perhaps my earnestness to remove the heaviness for which I feel propels me. Or perhaps my desire to relieve the pain I know I’ve caused another pricks my heart. Maybe all three work in tandem to move me to allay the wounds of ill-spoken words and supply compassion and tenderness instead. For all of it, I’m grateful.

I’ve learned many other things from pain. Like the fact that pain is sometimes the only thing that will make us want to talk to God. And on the flipside, sometimes pain is the only way we’ll listen to what He has to say in return. Dear reader, if you’re still reading, I hope you see there’s much to be gained from this necessary burden of life. I hope your reflection will lead you to where mine has staring at the corner of my wall – that perhaps pain isn’t such an unfortunate thing after all.