My counselor and I had been talking about a difficult relationship and the healthy boundaries I could, redemptively, establish to protect myself. “But also, we need to talk about the things you do to distract yourself from the pain.”
These weren’t his exact words, but they express his point — some of my coping mechanisms weren’t the best. In fact, they became my sinful response to sin done against me.
I wasn’t turning to God but using my faith as a screen so I could try to ignore the pain. “Those habits give you some relief, but only for a while.” What did he want me to do, feel the feelings? Actually, yes, but with a redemptive catch.
A Sinful Screen
Anything we use to shut out the experience of pain instead of walking through it can be a sinful distraction or screen — it can become objects of idolatry. We’re not talking about heroin here, although some people go down that road.
Actually, the most common ways we avoid dealing with suffering are often ordinary activities like socializing, exercising, or reading. How do you know when these things have become sinful distractions?
That can be tough, especially with benign examples, but over time and with the Holy Spirit’s discernment (if you ask for it), God will show you a connection if there is one.
For instance, someone might point out that you’ve been very busy lately — always in the gym, or you must watch this or that series on TV, or you’ve got to clean tonight (again).
A good friend asks kindly Is something wrong? It’s almost like you’re running away from something. At first, you dismiss these comments, but on reflection, you decide to examine yourself. Tim Keller said idolatry “means turning a good thing into an ultimate thing.”
Sure enough, as you grab your bucket, gloves, and scrub brush, you remember that 15 minutes ago, you had no desire to clean the bathroom (again), and then you got an email from your children saying they weren’t coming home for Christmas, and you also remember the feelings you cut off as they started bubbling up.
You were going to cry because they also didn’t come for Thanksgiving or your birthday, or Easter; in fact, they have stayed away for about a year now, and your feelings are deeply hurt. Instead of letting yourself experience the wreckage of your emotions, you decided to kill germs.
Cleaning your house is fine, but do you talk to God while you clean? Does cleaning help you shut out the world so you can hear from God? So, you can talk to him more freely?
Or is cleaning (or eating, or smoking, or running) becoming “an ultimate thing” to which you automatically turn in order to avoid strong emotions? Is it now a form of worship that compels you? Is it an emotional screen?
God’s Word on Distraction
Luke 10 shows a very busy Martha “distracted by much serving” (v. 40), but Jesus confronted her. I wonder what happened next?
Did she protest? Jesus spoke directly to her — “Martha, Martha, you are anxious and troubled about many things, but one thing is necessary. Mary has chosen the good portion, which will not be taken away from her” (vv.41-42).
Imagine — Jesus was right there, and she didn’t pause to listen to him.
Why did she shut him out? And before we’re too critical of her, why do we? Like Martha, we “protect ourselves” from Jesus’ truth-telling sometimes, maybe often.
Why was Martha so restless? Why didn’t she feel able to rest and listen to Jesus speak the words of life?
Now that I see her through this particular lens when Jesus addresses her by name (three times no less!), I hear him telling Martha that he sees her, sees her struggle, whatever it is.
Her smoke screen of busyness isn’t fooling him. We can distract and put up blinders, but God still sees us.
I wonder if she felt shame about something and was afraid that Jesus’ teaching would hit too close to home or feared that his mercy and love weren’t meant for her, the way so many of us do.
Christ comes to us and, by his presence, says, on the contrary. Instead of hearing this message, we’re like school kids who hear our names called over the PA system: Candice to the office.
However, the truth about Jesus got through to Martha. When Lazarus died, she rebuked Jesus, saying, “Lord, if only you had been here, my brother would not have died” (John 11:21).
She knew who he was, but something was missing from her knowledge; perhaps a greater understanding that Jesus did not come to stop us from suffering.
His ultimate plan goes further — he raises dead bones to life. He wants us to face our pain, but he never abandons us to do it alone, even if the pain is of our own making.
God In Our Suffering
How does God respond to us when we suffer, and how does he want us to engage the pain we are feeling?
Marshall Segal wrote, “Real joy doesn’t have to be put-together and smiley [...]. It is just as often tear-stained and worn out, crawling after God with whatever strength and longing we can muster. Our joy will prove strong and durable, even invincible, because God will keep us, but it will run low and feel fragile along the way.”
His article hones in on the way David praised God when he suffered, just as he did when he experienced rest from suffering: “Great is the LORD and most worthy of praise; his greatness no one can fathom” (Psalm 145:3).
He also told God how he felt about life’s trials. “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Psalm 22:1).
His lament was directed to the only one who could save him, and this cry was also taken up by the sinless Savior as he hung on the cross; a genuine cry of anguish that says, “My soul is open and naked and I trust you, Lord, to see it and still love me.”
The point is that David stayed close to the Lord and saw that the Lord was always with him in a very real way. God is the One he turned to when the world seemed to be against him. The Lord doesn’t expect us to shape up and put a good face on things.
He wants us to know the heaviness of what we face so we can also see the infinite, resurrecting power of Jesus Christ. We have to feel the feelings or else when God shows up, we won’t even realize the comfort of his presence or the depth of our need for him.
And even while the conflict is close and hurtful, if we rest in Christ, there can still be joy. “For his sake, I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ” (Philippians 3:8). We must recognize despair so we can recognize the source of our hope.
There is plenty of suffering in the Bible. Suffering isn’t necessarily discipline, and it is definitely never a sign of God’s disinterest.
We aren’t always being taught a lesson (although we inevitably learn along the way). We can’t taint or stain or fray his goodness, his glory, by asking him to get involved. He is involved; he is our Lord. Our lives are in his hands.
Face Pain Fruitfully
We do damage to ourselves when we act like the firestorm in our lives isn’t really happening. There are no gold stars on a celestial chart somewhere for enduring pain needlessly.
We don’t look better to God and others when we let the flames lick and ravage and scar us when there is actually a way out, so long as escape doesn’t require us to deny Christ.
Jesus expects us to behave wisely, to seek protection from unnecessary suffering for our own sakes, but also in order to demonstrate to a watching world that gospel-believing, Christ-focused Christians aren’t part of a cult that cuts off the rest of the world. We also aren’t a bunch of Pollyannas who refuse to see what’s going on around us.
We’re real people with a real answer to the real suffering in our own lives and of those closest to us: Jesus Christ, our Savior. “And there is salvation in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given among men by which we must be saved” (Acts 4:12).
For further reading:
What Was the Purpose of Claiming Sanctuary in the Church?
Can We Cast All of Our Cares Upon the Lord?
What Does 'God Is Love' Look Like Today?
Photo Credit: ©iStock/Getty Images Plus/kitzcorner
