No Pain But Mine

Several years ago, we had a car accident that wrote off our car. While we profited from it financially through no fault of our own (we had bought the car that got wrecked at such a bargain price that its insured value was significantly higher than what we actually paid for it), this was the catalyst for such a tumultuous and dark period of our lives that I thought of it as The Accident for a long time. It was one of those events that you expect to define the rest of your life.

Outwardly, many would wonder how this could have been such a devastating event. Our children emerged unscathed, apart from a seemingly irrational fear of "tipping over" (even five years on) when we take a corner a little fast while driving. Our injuries were trivial. But within our emotional lives the cascade of conseqences was far-reaching - to the point of being almost unbearable at times.

To someone who had suffered a "real" trial, such as the death of a child or spouse, I'm sure my pain at the time must have seemed ridiculous. I could hardly have complained about my puny injuries to someone suffering from chronic illness. And yet, as irrational as it may have seemed from the outside, my soul was in agony.

Apart from the personal growth that can come from suffering, there is something else to be gained from pain. The Apostle Paul wrote:

³ Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, ⁴ who comforts us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort those who are in any trouble, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. ⁵ For as the sufferings of Christ abound in us, so our consolation also abounds through Christ.

In other words, God provides comfort in our times of suffering that enables and teaches us to comfort others in their suffering.

Unfortunately, in our weakness, we can develop an attitude of no pain but mine. No pain but mine is worthy of sympathy. In our deepest hearts, especially in the midst of a "big" trial, we can look down our noses at the "little" trials of others. No pain but mine is real pain. Without even realising it, we can despise our brothers and sisters for struggling to deal with what may seem to be small issues.

Clearly this incredibly destructive attitude is not what God has in mind when He comforts us in our grief. Certainly those suffering "little"trials need to be sensitive about what they say to those dragging their way through "big" trials... but the reverse is true as well.

There is no place in a true community for the no pain but mine attitude. Believe me, I've been guilty of it - I guess many of us have at some time or other, but we need to recognise where it comes from, and that's certainly not from God. After all, Jesus Christ doesn't turn up His nose in disgust when we cry out to Him - and He suffered more than any other man (or woman, or child).

I know some beautiful people who have suffered the kind of pain that makes me imagine having my heart ripped out of my chest and trampled on. What I love and admire about these people is that they have the love and compassion to see beyond their own pain to the suffering of others - however apparently trivial - and to be genuinely sympathetic, despite their own trials. This is what I aspire to as God softens my hard-heartedness and hard-headedness.

So often, because we only see the surface, we fail to understand how deeply and lastingly "small" things can hurt our brothers and sisters. We can also get so wrapped up in our own inner worlds that we become oblivious to what is really going on around us on the outside.

Jesus Christ, of course, is the ultimate example to which I aspire. I pray for the compassion and patience to understand that all pain is like mine. Perhaps not in degree (in many cases it is greater than mine, not less - whether I can see it or not) or outward appearance, but a hurting heart doesn't heal by being told that it shouldn't hurt. It heals by being heard.