An Introduction to Suffering – Within the Wilderness
The wilderness is a complicated place. No one really wants to go there, much less stay there. Speaking literally of a wilderness, I think of the desert or the jungle. These are brutal places that are, to say the least, hard to survive in. Within scripture, we see Moses and the Israelites wandering the desert for 40 years, facing much along the way. We also see Jesus tempted in the wilderness for 40 days. The wilderness is brutal, full of struggle, loneliness, desperation and brings a person to their breaking point. It also is a place of sacred transformation. This metaphor translates well into the experience of suffering in this life. More than once, each person will walk in the desolate land of the mind, body and spirit. They will search, fight to survive, collapse in despair, and eventually will revive to a transformed version of who they once were.
There are things in this life that stretch us beyond what our minds and bodies can bear. We read a clear scripture of reassurance and yet it does not penetrate the chaos of our mind or the trembling within our body. Jesus tells us clearly there will be hardship.
“I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”
John 16:33 NIV
Something has happened, and our world is completely different. Maybe everything looks the same but we don’t feel the same. Perhaps we are weighted with years of hurt, abuse, neglect and more that leave us feeling lost. We find ourselves unsure of how to use the very tools we are told are right before us. What happens when the symptoms of trauma block processing the emotions around grief and suffering?
This is the wilderness.
Just like the rest, I have faced experiences of challenge and hurt woven through my story. As a clinical counselor, my work is almost entirely engulfed in the human experiences of suffering and the complex science of healing. Personally, however, this exploration launched into daunting waters as I found myself in a somber and tearful delivery room. The experience of losing my son forced me to face profound grief and major trauma for the first time since beginning my deep dive into the neuroscience of suffering and the complex psychology of living. I found myself in the sacred, brutal wilderness. As a Christian, there is an ongoing struggle of living scripture and reconciling it with the very broken existence we live on Earth, while striving to remain in faith of a loving and holy God. As I’ve walked my own road, I’ve found more and more language to place around the needed and messy collision of suffering, trauma, and faith.
Within the moments of impact and the subsequent processing, where only one song played on a loop, “In the valley… oh God you’re near,” I had a piece of me I often call my “researcher” somehow stay in my forethoughts. This piece of my mind holds all I have learned and was a bridge to the reality of my suffering. It narrated what was happening in my wilderness, grounding me.
“This is a panic attack… I need ice.”
“I need to feel this in my body.”
“This is dissociation. It’s okay, it’s too much… step away for a bit.”
“Use your voice!”
In a journey where I found myself in lament Psalms, long and wordless prayers, breathing, crying, trembling, counseling; I have gained a greater passion to create space for people wrestling with hurt. Our clinical offices must have this. Our churches, living rooms, and classrooms need more of this. Whether it’s the grief of death, betrayal, abuse, sin and the many other ways life can disappoint and challenge hope, there is space for hurt and healing. I challenge my readers to approach this series of articles not seeking a prescription ‘how-to’, but with an openness to the complexity of joy and pain, suffering and trauma, the brain, faith and spaces where there are not easy answers.
It is time to step away from the avoidance of hurt, over-spiritualized responses and walking alone in the numb, agonizing dark of suffering. I believe with an understanding of trauma, we can approach scripture with curiosity and a sense of companionship. Perhaps as we learn, we can discover and share ways of healing that include our faith, science, and community.
I often reference a Japanese tradition called kintsugi. When a piece of pottery breaks, instead of throwing it away, it is pieced back together with gold. This makes the piece unique and even more beautiful than before.
I’ve even tried this myself (with clay and gold paint) when my two oldest sons were constantly breaking my cherished lamps every month or two. I now cherish my beautiful and imperfect lamps- they are evidence of the life that pulses through my home and my acceptance to work with it.
Our lives will end, by the grace of God, with gold in the many breaks.
The wilderness is real. The complexity of healing is real. And transformation in the most unexpected of ways is real.
“The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong in the broken places.”
Ernest Hemingway
A Farewell to Arms
In the coming articles, we will explore the science of the brain, emotion and suffering experiences in scripture, the varying areas of suffering we encounter in this life, and the struggles we face in healing. This is not about my story- this is the bigger picture of complex vessels living in a broken world that is deeply beloved by an omnipotent God. Join me, friends, in this exploration.
