Forgive me if this sounds like a rant, but here we go…

Last week, as I was preparing for our weekly worship gathering, I stumbled across a post on Facebook linking to an article that suggested not recognizing mothers during a service on Mother’s Day. The reason? The holiday is hard for women who aren’t mothers yet, are struggling to become mothers, will never be mothers, or for anyone who may have lost a mother.

As a side note, I’m in that last category (and also the third because, well, biology).

One of the comments kickstarted a whirlwind of thoughts that are culminating in this post. It was from a woman who simply typed, “Thank you for holding space for my pain.” More on that in a minute, but first, a necessary disclaimer…

The B99 and I are passionate about the need for emotional health, and recognizing the pain of others is a big part of being emotionally healthy. Plenty of people work on being aware of their own pain, and while that’s good, true emotional intelligence comes from being aware of another’s pain. It’s what makes empathy so powerful, and what makes it so awkward when someone isn’t able to “read the room,” so to speak.

With all that in mind, know that what I’m about to say isn’t coming from someone who is making light of the pains that all of us feel in this world. Suffering is a part of our journey here, and yet this still needs to be said.

It’s time to tear down the idol of pain.

We’re obsessed with it. We’re all about feeling it, recognizing it, sharing it, medicating it, and – as a result of that medication – profiting from it. What we can’t seem to be able to do, though, is move past it.

We “hold space” for each other’s pain, and while the motivation for doing so is most likely sincere, it appears that holding space for pain can leave us stuck in a space where pain is holding us. Before long, our pain becomes our identity, and we can’t imagine who we would be apart from it. We cling to it, and use it to explain why we do the things we do.

“I used to be a happier person, but then…”

“You should have known me before…”

This is not how God addresses our suffering. Pain is a reality for us all, but it’s not an identity for any of us. Pain isn’t our purpose, even though there is purpose in our pain.

God didn’t teach us to run from pain; He actually said He’d lead us through it (Psalm 23:4). He didn’t say to cling to pain; He actually said He’d redeem it (Hosea 2:15).

Romans 12:15 teaches us a truth that I believe holds a key that can set the body of Christ apart from a culture that refuses to celebrate anything if it might offend anybody.

Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn. (‭‭Romans‬ ‭12‬:‭15)

Too often we mix that command up, and we find ourselves mourning with those who are rejoicing, or rejoicing with those who are mourning. This happens when we haven’t healed enough to live emotionally healthy lives, and the result is that we force everyone to bow to our pain.

“Don’t celebrate (fill in the blank) because I no longer have (same word here).” Our pain doesn’t just hold us captive, but it can actually end up holding the body captive, too.

As followers of Jesus, we can feel pain without fearing pain because we know that our Savior felt pain, too, even as He paid the price for the sin in this world that causes it. We can feel joy while also feeling the grief of others, and if we don’t celebrate one’s joy because of another’s pain, we run the risk of short-circuiting the witness of living out the full gospel witness.

Being with others in their pain is a big part of that witness, but it isn’t all of it. Yes, Jesus came to us in our pain, and when we sit with others in theirs, we model His willingness to be with us in our brokenness.

But that’s only half of what He did. He came to us, yes, but now He calls us to come to Him with our pain so that He can exchange our weariness for His rest.

Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. (Matthew‬ ‭11‬:‭28, emphasis mine)

Jesus has no intention of allowing us to cling to our pain, nor does that mean He wants us to ignore it. He recognizes it by seeing that we’re weary and burdened, and then He replaces it by offering us rest in place of it.

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, emphasis mine)

Jesus knows pain, speaks truth about it, and in one statement gave us a roadmap through it. In Him, there is peace that overcomes the pain that is in this world.

It’s time to tear down the idol of pain, and in its place, build an altar of peace. As we do, we’ll find that we aren’t building alone. The Master craftsman is right there with us, pulling down the idol with us, and handing us stones for the altar that will replace it.

Photo by Road Trip with Raj on Unsplash