Suffering, Recycled
Someone sent me this delightful video just as I was reading a book that explores the word redeem. Slum children creating music out of garbage stands as a perfect metaphor for a word usually encountered in theology texts.
Some twenty years ago Jerry Sittser, a religion professor at Whitworth College, was involved in a horrific auto accident. A drunk driver hit the vehicle he was driving, killing Jerry’s mother, wife, and four-year-old daughter—three generations at once. Jerry survived, along with three other children who had significant injuries. Not long afterward he published the book A Grace Disguised giving his reflections on the tragedy and its effect on his faith.
Last year he published a follow-up book, A Grace Revealed, describing what has happened since, including a re-marriage and the challenges of a blended family. That book has a passage on “redemption,” for Jerry asks what good has come out of the difficult times he lived through.
Most English words that begin with the prefix re-, he notes, look backwards: we re-visit a thought, re-hab an old house, re-sume a school semester after the holidays. The word re-deem points ahead, to God’s promise to re-store creation to its original design. Sittser adds a further insight, that redemption always involves a cost. To redeem a slave, someone must pay—or, in the case of the U.S. civil war, an entire nation must pay. To redeem the world, Someone must die.
I would suggest one further aspect of redemption: though looking to the future, redemption does not erase the past. A ransomed slave still bears the scars and memories 
of his time of bondage. Creation “groans as in the pains of childbirth,” the apostle Paul says of the redemption process of planet Earth. Jerry Sittser, the victims of war and persecution, the community of Newtown, Connecticut—they may find ways to endure suffering, even redeem it, but the painful memories will never disappear, nor should they. Even Jesus’ resurrected body retained scars.
Indeed, this notion of redeemed suffering may be the distinctive Christian contribution to the problem of suffering. Governments respond to suffering by attempting to remove it. The U.S. invades Iraq—oops, there’s Afghanistan! We help freedom fighters in Libya, but along come Egypt and Syria. Where does it stop? Medicine conquers smallpox and polio (almost), but what about malaria, AIDS, MRSA, and of course cancer? Columbine, Virginia Tech, Aurora, Newtown—can we ever stop these tragedies? No matter how well-intentioned and admirable, our attempts to remove suffering most often end up resembling the carnival game Whack-a-mole.
Each major religion has its own slant on the universal problem of suffering. Islam says we should submit and accept all that happens as God’s will. Doctors in Muslim countries tell me that parents rarely protest when their baby dies—grieve, yes, but not protest. Hinduism goes further, teaching that the suffering we bear is deserved, the result of sins we committed in a previous life. Buddhism frankly admits, “Life is suffering,” and teaches how to embrace it.
The Christian faith encourages protest, even to the extent of including the very words we can use in books like Job, Psalms, Lamentations, Jeremiah. We pray along with Jesus that God’s will “be done on earth as it is in heaven,” and vigorously oppose the evil and suffering that keeps the prayer from being answered.
Despite what some prosperity-gospel teachers claim, we have no promise that suffering will be removed, only that it will be redeemed—or, to use a more modern word, recycled. I take used and crushed aluminum cans to a redemption center in hopes that someone will make something useful out of them. I drop off an outdated computer knowing that someone will remove the gold and rare earths and “redeem” them in new and better ways.
The apostle Paul likened his worldly accomplishments to a pile of dung; yet even that can be recycled, as fertilizer. The sufferings of Martin Luther King Jr., of Nelson Mandela, of Gandhi, of Solzhenitsyn, were all redeemed in ways the persons themselves could not have imagined at the time. And the hallmark crime of history, the execution of God’s own Son, we remember as Good Friday, not Dark or Tragic Friday. Jesus said he could have called on legions of angels to prevent the crucifixion. He did not. The Christian way is not around pain, but through it.
In the movie Shadowlands, based on the life of C. S. Lewis, his wife Joy Davidman experiences a brief remission from her excruciating bout with cancer. The two have a romantic interlude in Greece, a moment of exquisite grace. Looking ahead to what awaits her once the cancer flares up again, Joy says, “The pain I’ll feel then is part of the happiness I feel now. That’s the deal.”
Joy dies. And in one of the final scenes C. S. Lewis tries to comfort her son David Gresham. Lewis clung to belief in Heaven as a drowning man clings to a life-preserver, or perhaps as a starving man dreams of food. He makes a subtle change in Joy’s words: “The pain I feel now is part of the happiness I’ll feel then. That’s the deal.”
Oh, yes, and while thinking such forward-looking lofty thoughts, don’t forget to watch the present-day, very down-to-earth video above…
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14 responses to “Suffering, Recycled”
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About Philip Yancey
For Yancey, reading offered a window to a different world. So, he devoured books that opened his mind, challenged his upbringing, and went against what he had been taught. A sense of betrayal engulfed him.
These two citations from Salvifici Doloris already help us to hold in tension the dynamic truths that underlie Mary’s compassion or cooperation in the redemption. On the one hand “The sufferings of Christ created the good of the world’s redemption. This good in itself is inexhaustible and infinite. No man can add anything to it.” On the other hand “Mary’s suffering [on Calvary], beside the suffering of Jesus, reached an intensity which can hardly be imagined from a human point of view but which was mysteriously and supernaturally fruitful for the Redemption of the world.” Thus the Pope strikes once again that careful balance which is always a hallmark of Catholic truth: he upholds the principle that the sufferings of Christ were all-sufficient for the salvation of the world, while maintaining that Mary’s co-suffering “was mysteriously and supernaturally fruitful for the Redemption of the world.” This is an axiom that may be discovered in the lives of the saints of every era of the Church’s history from the days of the apostles to our own.
Hello Mr. Yancey. I have no comments about this particular entry but I was actually wondering about your thoughts on Brennan Manning’s passing. I know there’s so much already written on the internet about his death but I also know you were friends with him and that you wrote the foreward to his last book. I thought perhaps you would have a blog entry on him. But then again, you summed up everything pretty well at the beginning of All Is Grace. Anyway, thank you for sharing your wonderful gift of writing and also this blog.
Hi Philip, have a question not related to your latest blog. I once read a story, I believe in one of your books, about a former Nazi German Officer falling ill only to find a Jewish couple offering to take him in and take care of him. In the end, he accepts offer because he couldn’t resist their love. I may have some details wrong. Is that story in one of your books? I though it was in What’s So Amazing About Grace but was unable to find it. I want to retell the story in my blog and credit you or the right author.
Dear Mr. Yancey —
Thank you for your wonderful books and other writings. I had not been aware of you until you came and spoke at my church last month (in Los Angeles). Now I am reading lots of your writings, devouring them really, plus being directed through your writings and website to other great writers / persons / histories / ideas. It seems to me that you must be constantly reading on many topics, in a very wide range, because you then combine the information in original ways and draw new conclusions from it, ideas that I hadn’t seen elsewhere. You put it all together beautifully and persuade well. I know your words are making me see things I hadn’t seen. (And I myself read a lot.)
When you were at our church you mentioned briefly piano tuning versus piano performance. I believe piano performance studies in universities and conservatories are mostly pyramid schemes. A piano tuner, on the other hand, is a very useful person. Tuning is an art — it lives on in the satisfying practice and performance for family and friends a musician makes on that instrument every day. Tuning involves lots of tough artistic decision making, compromise really, finding a way to make the sound as beautiful as possible within the limits of equal temperament tuning. I am a pianist (the pianist / organist at the church you spoke at in LA), and I know how special great tuners are. My point is, tuners may be “performing” more through their tunings than highly trained / talented pianists are. There is almost no work in live performance in music — university / conservatory music departments are pretty much pyramid schemes involving teaching people to perform (who in turn don’t actually become performers but teach others to perform who actually teach…).
Also, I’m wondering if you know of the radical music theory book “Harmonic Experience.” With your love of music and nature, I thought I should mention this book to you if you haven’t already heard of it. It is a mind blowing experience, reading and experiencing the ideas in it. Life changing, really.
I look forward to all the new creations you will continue to make. You are a great writer.
Sincerely,
Nancy Ruczynski,
Bel Air Pres (LA)
Oh, in relation to my last post, I meant that “if my own prodding into my various analyses was even well-founded.” I only meant to question whether or not I, myself, was on a noteworthy track.
I just thought I should clarify, because the way I wrote that sounded like I was referring to your (Mr. Yancey’s) prodding. Which was not the case (as your insight I hold in high esteem)!
Okay, enough said.
Philip, I have most all your works and am deeply grateful for the gift you’ve been given and the honesty and vulnerability in which you explore topics. Your work has made a deep impact in my life and walk and I have bought many copies of What’s So Amazing for my friends.
I’m attaching a link of a video that best brings grace to life for me: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7EJt5T4pZSQ
I had the fortune of watching this musical in London called “Whistle Down The Wind” based on an old film starring Hayley Mills. The musical was written by Andrew Lloyd Webber and Jim Steinman (Meat Loaf writer). There is a small deep-south town waiting for a revival. An escaped criminal is wounded and hides out in a barn. When 3 kids find him they ask him who he is…he awakes, startled, and curses out “Jesus Christ”. The story goes from there as they kids protect and treat this hardened criminal with love that he’s never experienced while parents are out looking vigilantly to apprehend this criminal to “protect” their children (as I would). The song in the video still makes me cry as you see the effect of treating someone who doesn’t deserve it with grace while the world does what it thinks is natural in seeking justice.
Dear Mr. Yancey,
reading the precious Word of God and reading your books helps me to grow in faith.
Helen Keller, who knew about suffering, said: “We could never learn to be brave and courageous, if there was only joy in our life.”
Thank you for sharing the “Landfillharmonic”.
Greetings and best regards from Austria.
Soy de Paraguay (el lugar donde tiene lugar la historia del video) y sólo quiero mencionar que la perspectiva del artículo a partir del reciclaje y la redención fue brillante. Ver a mis compatriotas y a mi escritor preferido unidos en una historia me emocionó casi hasta las lágrimas. Le doy gracias a Dios por tu vida, Philip. Tus libros y tus preguntas son lo más inspirador y revelador que leí en mucho tiempo.
I did have the opportunity to look into some of the work by Miroslav Volf, namely, his work: “The End of Memory.” While I could not find a direct view of the Sandy Hook incident you mention, I still found this mentioned work quite interesting. Huebner (2008) who wrote the discussion of the mentioned work by Volf, mentions that at a certain point Volf suggests that “instead of a generic . . . duty to remember . . . we should speak instead of ‘remembering truthfully.'” Further, “this reference to truthfulness is meant to capture both a desire for justice and a commitment to reconciliation.” However, the desire for justice seems to be eclipsed by the power of forgiveness wrought. As it is, Huebner mentions that (for Volf) “the forgiver has known the offense–and forgiveness presupposes knowledge of the offense as offense.” Thus, memory must be approached in a light that, in reality, forgets the negative nature of things past. This concept captured my attention in terms of both the nature of forgiveness and the nature of memory. I suppose what I wonder is if this type of forgetful (of the offensive nature of a memory) memory is only possible for the Christian mind? As Bonhoeffer (1995) stated, “complete truthfulness is only possible where sin has been uncovered, and forgiven by Jesus.” Thus, without a relationship with the One who instructs us as to how we should forgive (as God himself removes the offensive nature of our offenses), would this type of mentality even be feasible apart from God?
Thank you for your continued input Mr. Yancey! I truly appreciate intellectual prodding (that is, if it is even close to well-founded).
Phillip, your blog reminded me that my struggle with suffering was partially based on an error in assumption. I presumed that life was our default position and from birth we were owed it. But it’s helped me to realize that death is the default, not life. “Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death…” Once I accepted death as the starting place, it made sense to look upward and forward to Christ for redemption from the pull of darkness. This has helped me in dealing with guilt, my current limitations and the tempation to blame God for this messed up world. So, as suffering continues to haunt, I’m learning that somehow it propels us closer to life.
“Perceived injustice, and unfair suffering.” What you wrote honestly made me wonder as to how one could possibly forgive God (especially when He engenders such a concept). This wondering, in turn, guided me to an article that addresses this idea somewhat indirectly. In this article, written by William O’Malley (2008), the idea of suffering being unfair is approached from a perspective that thinks of blaming God as something that God himself anticipates from his creation. Directly, the author states that, as per an old Jewish belief “when we use our God-given wits to dispute with him, God dances for joy!” He also comes to cite the story of Job as a prime example, where Job is finally rewarded, near the end of the book, for his perseverance. I am sure that God knew Job’s character even better than Job himself, however did God not anticipate each of Job’s subsequent actions according to God’s own foreknowledge? Perhaps that question in itself sounds Calvinistic (though that was not the direct intent). Anyways, I guess I wonder if blaming God for what we humans perceive as injustice is simply a natural act? However, I would also submit that any human audacious enough to blame God for anything must also be humble enough to recognize the supremacy of God’s intent towards humanity. Just as was the case with Job when he was hit broadside with God’s questioning him as to where he (Job) was when the foundations of the earth were laid. Regardless, with these precepts first accomplished (questioning God with God-given wits, and also being genuinely ready for His assured sovereignty in the process), could this be even a Biblical recommendation as to the management of suffering? Is this correct to assume as a viable method for arriving at the knowledge that “each crisis in physical growth is a natural invitation to broader and deeper participation in being human[?]”
Hello again,
So I did also want to comment on this blog as well. I really appreciated where you mentioned that the Christian way is “not around suffering, but through it.” As it happens, that was a theme that I addressed in the previously mentioned paper. Though, in that case, working through the suffering pertained more to the effort inherent to forgiveness. Directly, I would tend to approach the theme of suffering in terms of the task of pardoning a wrong that has been wrought against you by another. Such a feat also requires, I would say, a dedication to approaching suffering in a way that looks forward to the ultimate joy that will hopefully result from such a process. However, this type of mentality must be one that is given constant attention for, just as you had mentioned, “long after the wound is forgiven; the memory of it lives on.” Memory, as it were, can certainly possess certain nuances that are often difficult to navigate (especially when one often feels a pull towards the lure of scorn which, by human terms, might appear more than justifiable).
Hello Mr. Yancey. I did not really know where to comment with what I wanted to say (as it does not relate directly to this blog). However, I had just finished your book “What’s so amazing about grace?” and found myself deeply affected. I was so moved that, in fact, I actually used your work as the basis of a paper I recently wrote with hopes of obtaining a scholastic scholarship. It is a bit of a stretch to think that you might actually respond to this (I suppose), but I was just wondering if I could get your feedback? Rest assured, the paper itself is on the shorter side.
Thank you sir!
We resist suffering and pain but develop our finest character traits through them. An easy life does little for the inner person. This is a beautiful and insightful essay on the spiritual dilemma of suffering.