The last couple of weeks have been a walk through the thickets for me. It’s been like walking on an uncharted bush trail, deep in the heart of nowhere, armed with nothing but bare feet and a desire to keep walking. I have collapsed in exhaustion at the end of the day, only to wake up in the wee hours of the morning and pick up where I left. My body has been pushed beyond its limits. My heart has given up, given in then picked up the pieces at the brink of despair, with hope as its only sustenance. The journey of one thousand miles continues. The course is no longer the unfamiliar territory I thought it was but on some days, I do not know where I am or where I am heading.
In those quiet moments I manage to spare some time to meditate and pray, I have found myself wondering about clichés that I have easily quoted to those who are going through difficult times. You know them by now. They fly easily in the face of despair, loss, intense struggle and pain. Sometimes, it is all we can offer when we are staring at the difficulties that are our friends or loved ones are going through. They sound true, perhaps, even inspiring. Repeating them beats the silence that often clouds the heavy moments when loss, frustration, hopelessness hung heavily over a room.
“God has a reason for everything,” we say. As good as this sounds, it reduces life to a simple equation in which everything adds up. The chips are somehow meant to align themselves to reveal the cosmic reason behind sickness, death, loss of a job or the end of a relationship that looked good. We easily refer to the story of Job, his suffering and the ultimate redemption of the years of suffering. A closer examination of the book of Job reveals that God did not reveal the “reason” behind Job’s misfortunes. He did not attempt to minimize his suffering by giving him the “five major and minor reasons” why his children died or his wealth disappeared like a leaf in the wind.
Saying that God has a reason for everything reduces difficult times into cosmic lessons being dished out by a harsh, distant Father for this own selfish reasons. It ignores the fact that Jesus did not promise a trouble free life. He promised his presence would be us in the thick of things. Jesus did not attempt to explain why his friend Lazarus had died. He refused to be drawn into debates as to whether the blind man in John 9 was blind because of his own sins or the sins of his parents. Instead, he had compassion on the blind man and he healed him.
“All things work out for good,” we add whenever we cannot account for the “reasons” behind suffering. I wish life was that neat but it is not. In reality, good people go through terrible times on this side of eternity. Sometimes, there is a good ending. Sometimes, the end is far from good. It is difficult to accept this and acknowledge that some endings will hurt for the rest of our lives. The cynic would be quick to point out that suffering in the world is proof that God does not exist. A close look at the Psalms reveals that there is nothing new about this thought. The Psalmists lamented and cried out to God in anguish. They wondered where God was when good people were suffering while wicked people were having a good time. What makes Jesus stand out among other gods is the fact that he suffered and did not attempt to hide it. The cross may simply have been reduced to a piece of jewellery over the years but it is a reminder that Jesus is well acquainted with suffering. He wept over it, prayed that it would be over and faced the humiliation and pain that came with it.
Lastly, we like telling those who are going through tough times that “they are stronger than they think.” It is often meant to make us draw from hitherto unknown reserves of inner strength as one battles the vicissitudes of life. To be honest, I admire those who can confidently say that they are stronger because of what they have gone through. I cannot, in all honesty, say that I am stronger than I think. I cannot even claim that the difficult times made me stronger. I find myself asking myself the following questions:
Am I stronger than the person who is staring at the ruins along the same course and wondering where to start?
Am I stronger than a younger, more naïve version of myself? Who is measuring my strength and what are the units?
You get my drift. I do not say that to belittle anyone’s experience or lessons from their difficult times. I get it. We all have varying degrees of resilience. Some of us will walk out of the fire unscathed, with shoulders held high. Some of us will crawl out of the fire with bruises. Some of us will take days to regroup, others will take a lifetime. In all things and in all seasons, grace will abound. I look at this season and the others before and I see myself for what I really am: frail, afraid and in constant need of help. That realization is hard to accept but I keep going back to it when my heart is broken and I cannot find the pieces. I remember that on the days I cannot muster the strength to get out of bed. I do not belittle or try to boost my strength on those days, I accept for what it is: a gift granted through grace.
Corazon Achieng 