You've Got to Face the Pain

A few days ago on my way home from work, I received a call from our son that Audi, our beloved beagle, had been hit by a car. There was no surviving this one as Audi faced her fate head on at the mercy of the bumper of a Mercedes-Benz. As I arrived a few minutes later, Audi was being buried by the guilt-ridden hands of our oldest, who blames himself for his puppy's untimely demise. We sat our girls down (now 4 years old) to unravel the story and explain the reason why Audi was no longer in our midst. They both looked at me plainly and began asking questions: "So Audi won't eat anymore? Not even dog food? Is she sleeping? If we die can we go see her?" Thankfully, they are well versed in canine fatalities as we processed the death of our neighbour's dog only months before. They casually got up and walked into the kitchen asking if they could put socks on their hands to climb the walls like a gecko. I muffled through the existential rhetoric pulsing through my mind; have I raised emotionless robots who will shed thousands of tears over spilled milk but cannot muster an ounce of sadness at the death of our beloved Audi? Do not fret, the tears did come and they came hard. The name of our deceased canine soon become the sole lyric of the wailing that filled our home. As I sat there, holding my daughter whose tears had soaked my shirt and weighed heavy on my heart, my paternal instinct was to blurt out senseless things like "Don't cry, we can buy you another puppy! I can give you something to eat to take your mind off the pain. Do you want some candy? A Coke?"

My reflexive efforts to comfort them in their pain looked like avoiding the deep feelings that were surfacing and to superficially soothe them and put an end to the uncomfortable process. I wanted to console them, not by being present but by giving them stuff in hopes to take their minds off the pain and numb the feelings that were beginning to make me cringe. 

How often do you get the chance to see pain in the eye and scramble to distract yourself and look the other way? Are we teaching our kids to face things head on or to find cheap substitutes that we know don't last? But God is a good Father. As I get to know Him more, reading about the ways He has dealt with His children throughout the millennia, I see a Father who embraces the discomfort, faces pain and awkward head on and accompanies His kids through the most difficult situations. Where I seek to temporarily distract my children, God seeks to sustain the moment to fulfill the purpose of pain's existence. We go through pain to change us, to make us aware of our humanity, to remember that we are broken and so desperately in need of a saviour that comforts in everlasting ways. The comfort God offers will not distract us from the real issue or help us to simply look past the terrible situations, but His love surely sees us through and is not willing that our pain be the end of us. It is incredible to think that God's design for our eternal abode does not include pain, but that his perfect plan for the present is laced with pain and suffering. I am confident that for the current state of our hearts, we need it. People in pain don't need cute phrases, frappuccinos and distractions. They need the presence of the one who will never deal out cheap fixes and will never put a band aid where we what we really need is surgery. 

So, as the crying resumed today and the wailing returned, I was reminded of the eternal love of our Heavenly Father that is wise, strong, merciful and willing to sustain the pain and sadness, not sugarcoating the sorrow, but confronting the difficult and willing to sit and wait. As we sat there on the kitchen floor, both girls sobbing on my lap, I remained silent and sat with my arms tight around them. After a few moments, the tears began to stop and they started to laugh. Not a shy giggle, but a full on belly laugh. I have no idea why. I am no theologian, but perhaps the path that God mentions from sorrow to joy doesn't look like running from the situations that provoke the pain and distracting us from our discomfort, but looking them dead in the eye, being willing to sit and wait. Now, I sit in a chair thankful for my Heavenly Father who is willing to do the same with me; to be in the centre of His will does not mean to be free of pain. There is no cheap grace in His embrace.