Faking The Pain – (Part 4 of 4)

Sometimes, we pretend like the more spiritually “mature” we are, the less pain we feel.  Granted, we use over-spiritualized language and make those around us feel foolish – even sinful – for walking in pain.  See if this sounds familiar.

“If you are really following God, you won’t base your happiness on circumstances.  If you start putting your hope in God alone, he will take away your pain.”

Really?

And where does God promise to “take away” our pain if we just have enough faith?

Don’t get me wrong, I believe that God is a healer and a comforter. I believe that He takes great delight in meeting us right where we are.  I just start getting nervous when Christians start claiming that you just need to have more “faith” and the pain will go away.

Sometimes, it doesn’t work that way. 

Did the Apostle Paul feel “happy” about the thorn in his side?  Did he lack “faith” when he begged God to take it away?

Did Jesus dismiss the excruciating pain as he hung on the cross?  Would the pain have gone away if he just had more “faith”?

I think not! 

For reasons I will never understand this side of heaven, God purposes to use pain.  In fact, sometimes it appears that pain alone can produce the kind of enduring strength that most of us long for.

So why do we think we are entitled to a “pain free” existence?  

Could it be that pain is for the strong?

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[For those of you who have followed the "Faking the Pain" series, many thanks.  Thanks especially for your private notes and emails.  No more faking the pain around here, ok?]

Sure Cure For The Rat Race

Are you tired of the rat race?  Here’s my suggestion.

Get away.  Take a week (or two) and leave the race completely.  It puts things in perspective. 

I just spent part of my family vacation off the grid.  Which is how I met Rick and Jenni. 

Rick and Jenni decided to get out of the race.  Permanently. After tiring of their fast-paced lives in Chicago, they left their careers and purchased a small group of cottages on Michigan’s far western shores of Lake Superior.  Now, they spend their summers renting lodging to families (like mine) who are trying to get away.

No mobile coverage.  No stores.  No hospitals.  No restaurants.  No people.  No Starbucks. 

It was novel at first (except the Starbucks part).

After a couple of days, I tried to imagine my family in Rick and Jenni’s shoes.  In the mountains.  In a town of several hundred people.  We could have our own rental lodge and reside right on property to save money. My husband would be in charge of maintenance (which I guess would put me in charge of cleaning and laundry).  Our kids could learn about wildlife firsthand – spending their summers on kayaks and winters on snowmobiles.  I could spend my days writing (in between cleaning toilets) and I’d just have to buy an espresso machine and appropriate supplies.

But then my vision turned sour.  I could see high-maintenance city folk knocking on my door at midnight because of a leaky toilet.  After cooking the 40th meal in a row and scrubbing the 140th toilet I’d be screaming, “Where are the restaurants!” and “Where is my cleaning lady?”  I’d be driving my kids 50 miles for play dates and 120 miles to the nearest movie theater.  And what would we do without our cell phones?

Maybe getting off the grid isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.  I’m a city girl.  I actually like people.  And truth be told, I even like the rat race.  I just need to get away every once in awhile to help remember. 

When's the last time you got off the grid?

Faking The Pain (Part 3 of 4)

I was having coffee with a friend who is struggling in her marriage.  I mean really struggling.  Yet she’s figured out how to get by. 

What’s her secret?  She’s given up all expectations in the relationship. 

“Marriage is about managing expectations.  If I expect nothing from him, at least I’m not disappointed.  I am so tired of opening myself up, only to be hurt again.”

I wonder, is she faking the pain?

While I don’t want to discount her pain – and I know firsthand that unrealistic expectations (or even reasonable expectations) can cause more hurt and pain when people disappoint us – I’m just not ready to subscribe to the theory that one can “manage” pain by giving up hope.

Numb the pain?  Maybe.

Ok, I realize there are seasons when we’re in survival mode – when numbing the pain is the best we can do.  But hear me out.  Have we missed the boat on this whole “pain management” theory?

We say things like, “People are always going to disappoint me.  I only need God to make me happy.”  We marginalize our relationships with other people so the pain doesn’t hurt as much.  We put up walls.  We pretend it doesn’t hurt.  Then, we tell ourselves we are spiritually mature for “managing expectations.”

Is this the best we can do?  Doesn’t God have something better in mind?  And hasn’t he put us in relationship with other people – people who will give us joy, hope, and even pain?

While expectations can kill, life without hope is sterile.  Lifeless.  Sure, I’ve heard it said, “Hope is in God.  Expectations are in other people.”  But in practical terms, the lines are a bit gray.  Which is why I’m constantly struggling to balance these two seemingly competing sisters:  Hope and Expectation. 

How do you reconcile the two?

The Power Of Unplugging

I’m officially unplugged.  For the next two weeks!

Am I already going through withdrawal? You bet.

Mind you, I had every intention of keeping up my blogging through August – even while I’m camping in remote places like the Porcupine Mountains.  After all, I’m a modern day multi-taskaholic.  Who says I can’t blog and camp at the same time?  Besides, I’m the middle of a “Faking The Pain” series that I want to continue.  Badly.  And I’m part of a writing group that just launched the WordServe Water Cooler.  I don’t want to take time off!

But wait.  I hear my children calling:

“Mom, why are you working during vacation?”

And I hear my husband calling:

“Suz, get off of that @&#% laptop!”

I’m pretty stubborn, so I’m still not convinced. 

Then I hear God calling:

“Be still.  Slow down.  Stop talking and listen.”

Ok, I get it. 

{See you in two weeks when I pick up with Faking The Pain, Part 3 of 4.}