Just last week I was looking for a sermon to listen to and one, in particular, caught my eye. The title was “Present in the Pain.” The sermon hinged upon the story of Lazarus’s death in John 11. The title caught my eye because (as you’ve probably noticed…) there’s a lot of pain right now! There is political tension, a pandemic, resulting in financial burdens, and fear covering our world. Many have lost their lives, many are mourning, and many have been laid off. For one reason or for many, there are a lot of hurting people right now.
Perhaps you’re feeling this pain first hand. Perhaps you have close friends or loved ones who are feeling it so deeply that it’s affecting you. When those close to me are feeling deep pain, I usually do one of two things.
The first is to try to figure it all out or calculate a reason why the pain is happening. Did I cause this? Can I pin it on another specific person? Is there an opposite and equal benefit I’m gaining from this? Trying to find answers is alluring in uncertain times. Answers make me feel superior to my circumstances. I feel helpful when I have answers that seem to comfort a loved one. But the biggest reason I look to find answers in the midst of pain is my desire to be in control. When I understand (or at least think I understand) a painful situation, it makes me feel more in control of it. Maybe I can’t change it, but at least (I think) I know why it’s happening, and that gives me a false sense of control.
The second habit I have is to do whatever it takes to make my loved ones feel better when they’re hurting. To be transparent, it often feels less imperative for me to actually improve their circumstance than it does for me to just make them stop being sad! I feel uncomfortable when someone I love is feeling down. So I do what’s in my power to change their feelings. It’s tempting to say things like, “Everything’s going to be ok,” or “This bad thing is going to go away,” even if I have NO IDEA if it will be ok. It’s just so they can stop being unhappy!
I realize these are not the healthiest habits, but I don’t think I’m the only one who does them. The truth is, of course, that we’re not in control! Not of this virus, not of all the money in the world or who gets it, not of how people feel or what they do. We know the one who is, though. So sometimes it can be easy to give pithy answers to those in pain, like “God is in control” or “He has a reason for all of this.”
If anyone could’ve given an answer like that, it was Jesus. Going back to John 11, we see Jesus met by Mary and a group of Jews mourning the loss of Lazarus. Yet I find it so striking that, when Jesus saw Mary and the others crying, he didn’t offer any pithy answers. Nor did he try to cheer them up or make them stop crying. He was and is omniscient. He knew everything was going to be ok. He had the power to not only change their emotions but even to change their circumstance. And he did, but before raising Lazarus from the dead, he wept with them. John 11:33b and 11:35 simply say, “He was deeply moved in his spirit and greatly troubled...Jesus wept.” Mary, Martha, and Lazarus were close friends to Jesus, and his heart broke with theirs.
I think it’s ok in these uncertain times to admit that we don’t have all the answers and that many (including ourselves sometimes) are not going to feel good. Of course, we will continue to share the hope that we have in Jesus, and if we are in a position to meet physical needs, the Bible is clear about caring for the poor. But I wonder if something simple and yet challenging we can learn to do in this painful season is simply be present with those who are hurting, just as the Lord comforts each of us with His presence in times of need.