A wise person once wrote the following lyrics in a song called Suffer: “All that you suffer is all that you are.” Now, while this statement may not be entirely true – as we are also defined by experiences of happiness, joy and peace – I’m sure we can all agree that going through some kind of suffering is an inevitability for all of us as humans, and that what we suffer does in fact shape us profoundly. Physically, we feel pain, as our body is designed to protect itself and provide us with signals of potential or actual danger. Through trial and error, we become aware of the limits of our existence. We learn that touching things that are hot or sharp can hurt us, so that we’ll hopefully be less apt to make the same mistake again in the future. At other times, our bodies feel pain to let us know that we’re sick or that something within us demands our attention – like a warning system to let us know something’s wrong or that we should consider modifying our routine behaviour. We also feel emotional pain, which is often related to social interaction. At times, we hurt because we are intentionally or inadvertently excluded or insulted by someone else’s actions or words. Other times, we suffer because we are temporarily or indefinitely separated from a person or people who are important to us. Whatever the case, our experience of physical and emotional pain is universal, and has a direct impact on our personal identities, how we view and relate to others, and how we process and deal with spiritual things. Ultimately, what we suffer personally and collectively influences our understanding of God.

C. S. Lewis, in his book “The Problem of Pain”, wrote this:

If God were good, He would wish to make His creatures perfectly happy, and if God were almighty He would be able to do what He wished. But the creatures are not happy. Therefore God lacks either goodness, or power, or both. This is the problem of pain, in its simplest form.

Obviously this wasn’t his conclusion on the matter. In this statement, he was merely pointing out that the human experience of pain coupled with a belief in an all-powerful, loving God is problematic. You’ve probably asked this question yourself: why do bad things happen to good people? This question of suffering – the “why” of human pain – is in many ways mysterious and unanswerable – beyond our understanding.

Last year, I was fortunate enough to attend a tour that featured one of my favourite speakers and authors Rob Bell. For those of you who don’t know, Rob Bell is the founder of Mars Hill Bible Church in Grand Rapids, Michigan, the author of the book Velvet Elvis, and the person behind the NOOMA video series. Needless to say, I was really excited to meet him. But what’s more, what he shared at the presentation itself was very helpful and insightful to me. At that particular time in my life, I was struggling a lot with the problem of pain, and this is what he said:

When we try to resolve things too quickly…or offer hollow, superficial explanations…it’s not honest and it’s not right and it’s not real. It’s not how life is. I’ve heard people trying to be helpful in the midst of a tragedy or accident or death by saying, ‘That’s just how God planned it,’ while I’m thinking, ‘The god who planned THAT is not a god I want anything to do with.’ Others with far more wisdom and experience than me have tackled the ‘why’ questions of suffering. [But] I’m interested in another question…not ‘Why this?’ but ‘What now?’

So – instead of focusing on and becoming discouraged by the elusive answer to the question of WHY, the encouragement was to shift one’s perspective to consider WHAT to do with that suffering. Instead of desperately trying to make the pieces fit, accepting that sometimes there is no WHY. Sometimes life just happens and you deal with it. But how? HOW should one respond in the midst of suffering, especially during those times when it’s not we ourselves who are in pain, but those around us who are in distress? HOW should we react when there’s trouble in the world that doesn’t affect us directly, or when someone we know is going through a particularly difficult time? To help answer this question, let’s consider together the experience of Job.

From chapters one and two of Job, we learn about the great suffering he endured. At one time he had seven sons, three daughters, seven thousand sheep, three thousand camels, five hundred yoke of oxen, five hundred donkeys and a large number of servants (Job 1:2-3); but he lost them all. Raiders from the surrounding region attacked and killed Job’s servants, carrying away his oxen and donkeys (1:14-15). Fire fell from the sky and consumed Job’s sheep and the shepherds (1:16). Another raiding party later attacked and killed the rest of Job’s hired hands and stole all the camels (1:17). A violent wind struck and collapsed the house where all of Job’s children were gathered, leaving none of them alive (1:18-19). And if this wasn’t enough, after all this emotional suffering, he faced extreme physical pain as his entire body was then found to be covered with agonizing sores (2:7).

Personally, I can hardly fathom what it would have been like to be in a similar situation. Some of us have gone through tremendous suffering, but relatively few – if any – of us have faced the degree or scope of pain faced by Job.

Job’s initial reaction to his suffering is found in verse 21 of chapter one:

Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked I will depart. The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; may the name of the Lord be praised.

I say initial reaction, because as Job continues to process his situation, he confronts the problem of pain head-on, voicing his trouble and confusion out loud. Consider some of these phrases from chapter seven:

My body is clothed with worms and scabs, my skin is broken and festering. “My days… come to an end without hope… Therefore I will not keep silent; I will speak out in the anguish of my spirit, I will complain in the bitterness of my soul… When I think my bed will comfort me and my couch will ease my complaint, even then you frighten me with dreams and terrify me with visions, so that I prefer strangling and death, rather than this body of mine. I despise my life; I would not live forever. Let me alone; my days have no meaning… If I have sinned, what have I done to you… Why have you made me your target? Have I become a burden to you? Why do you not pardon my offenses and forgive my sins?

I’m sure his words probably don’t sit very well with you. Either because you yourself are going through a comparatively difficult time, and there didn’t seem to be very much hope in Job’s words. Or because you didn’t think Job should be so honest with his suffering and had an urge to share words of your own to help Job understand his situation. Words like: “Everything happens for a reason,” “God has a plan,” “it could be worse,” or “you shouldn’t complain.”

When we see and hear that someone is suffering, we are often tempted to either: (1) Fix our eyes on something else, thereby ignoring the existence of a problem; or (2) We try to fix the problem so that suffering is alleviated. Clearly, the latter approach is preferable – that is, trying to help someone in need. But HOW we do so is crucial. Because sometimes we think we’re helping someone, when in fact we are causing even more damage. Sometimes we incorrectly assume that we have the answers to some of life’s greatest questions and feel compelled to share this with others. Like when Job’s friends gave him what they thought was wise advice. So – let’s consider together a few examples of how those closest to Job dealt with the problem of pain, and why the Lord himself later said that they did not speak what was right (42:7). Hopefully then, when we encounter suffering in the world and in the lives of those around us, we can learn from their mistakes, and then in my opinion, do the one thing they did right.

After so much loss, the few people that remained in Job’s life gathered around him to give him counsel regarding his unfortunate situation. In particular, there were five main people who offered their insight into WHY he was suffering and WHAT he should do about it.

First, there was Job’s wife, who offered this advice to her husband: “Give up.” In her own words from chapter 2, verse 9: “Are you still holding on to your integrity? Curse God and die!” Job himself responded: “You speak foolishly”(2:10). Life is made up of good moments and bad moments, and though we don’t always know why the bad happens, is the solution give up on life itself? When trying to cope with severe emotional or physical pain, as the one who is suffering, it might be tempting for us to conclude that death is a preferable option to agony and affliction. This is essentially what Job claimed in chapter 7. But if you were Job in that moment, would you really want someone to say to you: “Yeah, you’re right…what are you waiting around here for? Die already!” This is not helpful in the least.

Second, we have Job’s friend Eliphaz, who’s advice could be paraphrased as: “Bad things won’t happen to good people like you…at least not for very long.” Perhaps in an ideal world, but as you and I both know, this is wishful thinking at best. The fact that someone is good or godly doesn’t preclude them from suffering. It’s clear from the opening chapter of Job that he was, “blameless and upright…feared God and shunned evil”(1:1), and yet, his suffering was awful. Bad things happen both to supposedly good and allegedly bad people alike. There is no direct, fixed correspondence between the two. Some people suffer for years regardless of their obedience to God. Perhaps eschatologically-speaking, the faithful will experience ultimate peace and relief from their pain in heaven. But again, how is that helpful advice in the moment of one’s anguish or grief that may persist indefinitely? In that case, you might as well offer the advice given by Job’s wife, which we already heard was foolish.

Third, we need to consider the instruction given by Job’s other friend Bildad. His assessment was essentially this: “You’ve done wrong and have brought this on yourself.” According to him, Job must have sinned and is therefore responsible for his own suffering, and shouldn’t complain. Once more, the fault with this line of reasoning is that there is not always exact correspondence between one’s actions and destiny. Granted, this may be the case sometimes, as we often do face negative consequences for mistakes that we make. But is saying “I told you so” or pointing out the obvious really that constructive? Is making someone feel guilty for their own pain helpful, especially if there’s also a chance or likelihood that they aren’t to blame at all? I don’t think so.

Fourth, there’s Job’s friend Zophar, who essentially says: “If you don’t sin and have more faith, everything will be alright.” This view links suffering with sin and faith with triumphing over suffering; basically, combining the advice of Eliphaz and Bildad. That being the case, it remains problematic and unhelpful. Case in point: if you have ever been in a situation where you were really struggling with your faith – no matter how well meaning a person is trying to be – you know that the suggestion to have “more faith” is anything but encouraging. The implication of Zophar’s position is that more faith equals less pain, which just isn’t true.

Fifth, and last to offer Job advice is a young man named Elihu, who eagerly and passionately shared this so-called wisdom: “Suffering is always for a reason, and its purpose is to bring you back to God.” The message here, as proposed by Elihu, is that pain in life is meant to teach us a lesson. That all human suffering is intended to draw us back into fellowship with God. That agony, anguish, sorrow and grief are restorative and have a specific purpose. But would you honestly – with integrity – say something like this to someone going through tremendous affliction? Did God “plan” each and every natural disaster? Did the Lord have a “purpose” for the holocausts at Auschwitz, Treblinka and the other death camps of World War II? We must be very careful if ever we feel compelled to link meaning with personal circumstances or world events. Who are we to infer or deduce the WHY of human suffering? After Elihu spoke, the first words we hear the Lord say before questioning Job are these: “Who is this that darkens my counsel with words without knowledge”(38:2)? As I said a couple weeks ago when we were considering Jeremiah 27 and 28, if we’re not absolutely sure something is from God, sometimes it’s better to keep our mouths shut. And even if we are 100 percent convinced that we’re speaking the truth, we might be wrong. How, then, is what we say going to help someone in need? Sometimes it’s better to say nothing at all, and let our actions do the speaking.

To be fair, Job’s friends didn’t get it all wrong. Consider what it says at the end of chapter 2:

When Job’s three friends.. heard about all the troubles that had come upon him, they set out from their homes and met together by agreement to go and sympathize with him and comfort him. When they saw him from a distance, they could hardly recognize him; they began to weep aloud, and they tore their robes and sprinkled dust on their heads. Then they sat on the ground with him for seven days and seven nights. No one said a word to him, because they saw how great his suffering was.

Sitting on the ground in silence. Coming down to the level of the one in pain. Being present. Not offering platitudes. Not presenting unsolicited advice. Willing oneself to leave the comfort of one’s own health, security and preconceived ideas to join the other in suffering. During times of grief and mourning, our Jewish brothers and sisters have a practice called “sitting shiva,” where those closest relatives to the deceased gather together in a home for seven days and sit on chairs that are low to the ground or on the floor itself. Mourners tear their garments, aren’t supposed to shave or bathe, and don’t even open the Bible…unless it’s a passage that specifically deals with lament, like the book of Lamentations or Job. And though this time of sitting on the ground together may not necessarily be altogether silent, mere presence can be more beneficial than a thousand words. I’m convinced that we can learn a lot from this, that there was much wisdom in what Job’s friends did first, and that we can and should do the same (or something similar).

Conclusion

When others around us are suffering, let’s do what we can to be there for them, to stand beside or sit with those in pain. As best as you can, be Incarnational – there, “in the flesh.” One of the greatest comforts of the Christian life is knowing that God himself can relate to our struggles in the person of Jesus Christ. He too lost close friends and family, experiencing tremendous emotional pain. And he was no stranger to physical suffering either. But what’s more, he suffers still, and deeply. Jesus, though raised from the dead, was raised wounded (see John 20), and to this day bears the heartache and hurt of humankind – continuing to suffer with those in pain. Accordingly, as a follower of Jesus, one is similarly called to “bear each other’s burdens”(Galatians 6:2). To be willing to suffer alongside those in need. Like Job’s friends did for seven days before they spoke. Now – plainly, this isn’t to say that you shouldn’t speak to someone who’s going through a difficult trial. By all means, pay a visit, pick up your phone, write a message. You don’t want silence to come across as avoidance or indifference. But think before you speak. Choose your words wisely. And if you don’t know what to say, that may be just as well. “Let your words be few”(Ecclesiastes 5:2), “be quick to listen and slow to speak”(Galatians 1:19). Do however much is at your disposal to be present with those who are suffering. And though the problem of pain may remain to us a mystery, we can all be assured and provide assurance by our presence with others that none of us face the challenges of life alone.

As always your thoughts and comments are welcome.

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