The Poverty of Suffering

Life is painful. 

The world around us inevitably changes leaving the world within us littered with moments of grief, anxiety, and disappointment.  The people, experiences, or memories that served as anchors in the midst of stormy seas suddenly vanish and all we are left with is a deep ache within our hearts - a constant reminder that everything we hold so close can never really satisfy our soul’s longing for something...more.

Sadly, delusion is a strong drug. We cling to every lie that our self-preserving egos offer: 

You will never die.

Avoid pain at all costs.

The only god you can trust is yourself.

These lies become the framework through which our already heavy hearts try to process the frailty of love in our lives, slowly becoming untethered from reality as we aimlessly drift between experiences that do nothing but reinforce our deluded worldview.  

In the midst of that deep pain, we can be met with well-meaning people with words that offer no consolation and only serve as a reminder that something is very very wrong. 

When the stabbing pain in our chest won’t seem to go away, words - any words - can only do so much. All the while, that “God-shaped hole” within us feels like it gets bigger and bigger, and no matter how loudly we scream to the heavens, it never really seems to be filled with anything that lasts. 

At this point, I think that it can be incredibly helpful to lean into what we most often try to avoid - that is, the poverty of our own humanity. 

The daily distractions and attempts at self-medicating our pain away will always be confronted by the fundamental limitations of our own humanity. In the midst of suffering, we can acutely feel the reality that our neediness, that is, our poverty, is all that we have.  Far from being a deficiency, this poverty is exactly where we need to be to realize our greatest strength - that is, our neediness for God.  

In his book, La nuit comme le jour illumine - la nuit obscure chez Jean de la Croix, Wilfrid Stinissen writes:  

Poverty of heart is not always very “beautiful;” it is not necessarily the fruit of ascetic virtues. It can be a physical or psychological handicap. But what renders a person incompetent in the eyes of the “world” is precisely that which can give a person access to the reign of God. If we say “yes” to God, we choose the narrow path that brings us to the reign of God. Our poverty then becomes “blessed,” and we become humble servants or servants of the Lord through whom he can do great things. One thing is central to the Gospel: God became man to save the poor. Poverty and weakness are never an obstacle. He did not come for those who are well but for those who are ill. When we are ready to not repress our poverty and anxiety, but to welcome it freely, Jesus can become what his name signifies: the One who saves.

Instead of denying our present reality or rejecting it by entering into bitterness and anger, we can order all things to what is good with just one word: yes.  When we really lean into our poverty, we can find that we are leaning into salvation at the same time.  Instead of trying to work our way out of pain or to avoiding it all together, these moments that feel so ugly can become a beautiful “yes” to holiness.  

Perhaps, in the midst of great pain, “yes” is all that we can say… and, honestly, you wouldn’t be alone.  Mary’s fiat wasn’t confined to the Annunciation. Making a total “yes” of herself included feeling the pain of a heart pierced while her son was dying on a cross - this was her “yes.”  

In fact, the more we immerse ourselves in the scriptures, the more we will find men and women in a variety of settings that can only seem to utter “yes” in the midst of challenging circumstances.  Sadly, popular culture views the Bible as an unrealistic expression of life. Those mocking the scriptures (most likely, without having read them), seem to see it as a rosy-colored collection of stories that couldn’t possibly relate to the real world struggles that we experience every day. When we do take the time to read the Bible, we actually find an incredibly realistic text that can speak directly into our experiences of pain. 

We hear in Tobit 3, “Then sad at heart, I groaned and wept aloud. With sobs I began to pray…” and for what does Tobit pray? He prays for death. 

“So now, deal with me as you please; command my life breath to be taken from me, that I may depart from the face of the earth and become dust. It is better for me to die than to live, because I have listened to undeserved reproaches, and great is the grief within me.

“Lord, command that I be released from such anguish; let me go to my everlasting abode; Do not turn your face away from me, Lord. For it is better for me to die than to endure so much misery in life, and to listen to such reproaches!” (Tobit 3:6)

Within the same chapter of Tobit, we hear of Sarah’s plea for death as well…

“Blessed are you, merciful God! Blessed be your holy and honorable name forever! May all your works forever bless you.

Now to you, Lord, I have turned my face and have lifted up my eyes. Bid me to depart from the earth, never again to listen to such reproaches.

“You know, Master, that I am clean of any defilement with a man. I have never sullied my own name or my father’s name in the land of my captivity. I am my father’s only daughter, and he has no other child to be his heir, Nor does he have a kinsman or close relative whose wife I should wait to become. Seven husbands of mine have already died.

Why then should I live any longer? But if it does not please you, Lord, to take my life, look favorably upon me and have pity on me, that I may never again listen to such reproaches!” (Tobit 3:11-15)

These are words that come from suffering hearts.  The physical, emotional, and spiritual pain have reached a point where Tobit and Sarah believe it would be easier to simply not exist than to bear one more second of the pains of life.  

Psalm 88 is another example of the realism of scripture: 

LORD, the God of my salvation, I call out by day;

at night I cry aloud in your presence.

Let my prayer come before you;

incline your ear to my cry.

For my soul is filled with troubles;

my life draws near to Sheol. I am reckoned with those who go down to the pit;

I am like a warrior without strength.

My couch is among the dead,

like the slain who lie in the grave.

You remember them no more;

they are cut off from your influence.

You plunge me into the bottom of the pit,

into the darkness of the abyss.

Your wrath lies heavy upon me; all your waves crash over me.

Because of you my acquaintances shun me;

you make me loathsome to them;

Caged in, I cannot escape; my eyes grow dim from trouble.

All day I call on you, LORD;

I stretch out my hands to you.

Do you work wonders for the dead?
Do the shades arise and praise you?

Is your mercy proclaimed in the grave,

your faithfulness among those who have perished?*

Are your marvels declared in the darkness,

your righteous deeds in the land of oblivion?

But I cry out to you, LORD;

in the morning my prayer comes before you.

Why do you reject my soul, LORD,

and hide your face from me?

I have been mortally afflicted since youth;

I have borne your terrors and I am made numb.

Your wrath has swept over me;

your terrors have destroyed me.

All day they surge round like a flood;

from every side they encircle me.

Because of you friend and neighbor shun me;
my only friend is darkness. (Psalm 88:2-18)

These are words of a person who knows the hellish feeling of God’s apparent absence.  Far from a rosy-colored lens of the world, the bleakness of this psalm speaks to the very real pain of rejection and the uncertainty of whether anyone hears us in our brokenness.

When, through suffering, we find ourselves confronted with the very real poverty of our humanity, this is an opportunity to simply throw open our hands and admit that we can’t do this alone.  Rather than our poverty disgusting God, it actually draws him closer to us.  Accepting our limitations and the frailty of our existence leaves so much more room for God to work, to speak, and to heal.  

Let us cry out together, “Lord, we are poor! Lord, I am poor and I desperately need You!”

 This poor man cried, and the LORD heard him and saved him out of all his troubles. 

Psalm 34:6