We are coming near the end of Great Lent. Soon, we will once again liturgically place ourselves into the passion of Christ. We will find ourselves rejoicing in his glory as he enters into Jerusalem, and then we will mourn his painful and shameful death. It is in his powerlessness he showed his love. And it is in this powerlessness we are to find ourselves. For it is in this weakness, the weakness of the flesh, great things come about. In our weakness, we learn more about ourselves. In our weakness, if we embrace it, we learn about others. In our weakness, we are able to be made strong as we open ourselves up — to become poor in spirit so that the kingdom of God can be ours. What begins in weakness, begins in sorrow, even what begins in suffering, if properly embraced, opens us up to the revelation of love. It is in this light we can understand many of the words of Scripture:
More than that, we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us. (Romans 5:3-5 RSV).
Share in suffering as a good soldier of Christ Jesus. (2Timothy 2:3 RSV).
As an example of suffering and patience, brethren, take the prophets who spoke in the name of the Lord. (James 5:10 RSV).
So is it with the resurrection of the dead. What is sown is perishable, what is raised is imperishable. It is sown in dishonor, it is raised in glory. It is sown in weakness, it is raised in power. (1Corinthians 15:42-44 RSV).
If I must boast, I will boast of the things that show my weakness. (2Corinthians 11:30 RSV).
And to keep me from being too elated by the abundance of revelations, a thorn was given me in the flesh, a messenger of Satan, to harass me, to keep me from being too elated. Three times I besought the Lord about this, that it should leave me; but he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” I will all the more gladly boast of my weaknesses, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities; for when I am weak, then I am strong. (2Corinthians 12:7 -10 RSV).
We all have our pains, our sorrows. What do we do with them? Sure, we want to be rid of them. It’s human. But what else do we do with them? Do we learn from them? How so? Do we use them to open up our hearts? Do we, through our own suffering, just stick to ourselves and complain (it is so easy to do because it is so natural), or do we also look to it, see it through, and look to how it can make us better? Do we grow in compassion or do we grow in self-pity? Those seem to be the two different directions it can take us.
What exactly are the things which trouble you the most in your life? What brings you your great pain? What exactly are the things which make you weak? Do you let them shape you and make you better?
As I write this, I am currently suffering from my chronic fatigue. My head is in one of its normal brain fog moments. I know I am weak. My thought processes are not at their best. I have to struggle to work, to get things done. My plan here is to write with a stream of consciousness, and any mistakes I have, not to edit it this time. Let them be. Let me be as I am. Let the fatigue do what it can, while I will push on. And yes, it is a pain to do so. I really, really do not like what chronic fatigue does to me, how it makes me feel. But on the other hand, I realize — it is something I do suffer, and it is something I can use to open myself up, to truly let myself enter the poverty of the spirit. To feel the pain of life, and to feel try compassion for everyone else in their own suffering. It’s not easy. While I get a sense of this at times, at others time, all too many other times, I am also going deep into myself, and just suffer and suffer in a way which does lead me also to the self-pitty. I would rather I did not suffer this, I would rather I felt fine. It’s hard to push on. It’s very hard. The pain can be very very strong, when the fatigue, the headache, the body ache, the brain fog all come together. I want to get some thing done, I must press on. Even if I fail. Even if I am imperfect. I have to realize, I am imperfect and this is another way to indicate the need for compassion — for myself, and for others. To realize once again we all suffer, we are have things which limit us. But what do we do with those limits, how do we see them. That is the question.
It’s not just my fatigue which limits me. It is my loneliness. I can understand some of the sorrow of Christ in his own loneliness and sorrow. It brings me into union with him in a special way. We all have our way of being united with him. But again, it is not what I would like. I would like nothing more than not be lonely, but my failings, my weaknesses once again get in the way. I cannot associate with people and dialogue and engage them the same way as others; I am quite different, I see things differently, and I can get easily annoyed because of it. It’s from aspergers. Once again, I wish it was not there. It is there. It makes me who I am, both in the good and bad. But once again, I have to be reminded of Paul. We have thorns in our flesh. What will we do with them? How do we engage them? What do we do? Even if it turns out we can engage them, and make something good of them — something I think we are called to do, they still make us who we are, and they will always be with us. They are to remind us, however difficult it seems for us to accept, that we cannot do things all by ourselves. We must accept grace — it is sufficient. It’s not what others think of us. It’s not what we do that we think is great. It’s our weakness, if embraced as a vehicle for grace, which makes us great. Can we do it? It’s not easy. But we must find a way.
What are your thorns? What is it you suffer? How do you deal with it? How does it make you better?
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