Of cliches and pat answers

As I leaf through the pages of my journal of quotes that have struck me, I realize that I am attracted to the words of people who have suffered. People who have suffered deeply do not offer cliche answers -- because they know there are none. And a reading of the Old Testament Book of Job reveals that religion doesn't offer pat answers either.

"Pain is pain and sorrow is sorrow," writes Margaret Clarkson in Grace Grows Best in Winter. "It hurts. It limits. It impoverishes. It isolates. It restrains. It works devastation deep within the personality. It circumscribes us in a thousand bitter ways. There is nothing good about it."

How true that is. And when you have suffered deep pain, there is something false in even the best cliches. We know that for some people, joy does NOTcome in the morning. For some, the pain does NOT make us stronger. It weakens us and works devastation deep within.

And yet.

And yet. "But the gifts God can give with it are the richest the human spirit can know," Clarkson writes.

There is always an "and yet" with God.

"When we learn to rest our souls in God's mighty truths, our suffering takes on eternal dimensions. Our pain may not grow less, our loss may not be restored, or griefs may still be ours, but their power to harm us is broken," Clarkson says.

Let us be careful of the easy cliches and pat answers we offer people. Yes, in Job, God restored his health, his home, his riches and even 10 new children for the 10 who died. But that doesn't mean God will do the same thing for me.

Marie Balter knows deep suffering as well. She became mentally ill at age 17 and spent 20 years in various institutions. She gradually emerged from the terror of the back wards, graduated with a Master's Degree from Harvard and became a champion for the mentally ill.

"People always ask me, 'Do you regret the years you lost in the mental hospital? Are you angry at the unnecessary pain you suffered? I guess my perspecive is different. I try not to dwell on blame or regret. And I really believe that the suffering in my life occurs for a higher purpose, giving me strength and understanding to help others who might be in a similar situation. Those years in [the hospital] weren't lost nor were they wasted. They were years of preparation, years of learning. They were years which enabled hope to grow from the desolate world of loneliness."

Marie doesn't know why she suffered, but she knows that God will redeem it. Sometimes that is all we can hope for. As Marie writes:

"I will build an altar unto You, O God, of the broken pieces of my heart."

Sometimes there are no answers. Sometimes all that can be redeemed is an altar. And somehow that's enough.