One of the greatest joys I have is comforting my children when they hurt. Just to be able to give them a hug, an encouraging word or some quality attention so that they can dust themselves off and reenter the battle of dump trucks, Angry Birds and wooden blocks is an expression of love that comes quite naturally to me, not unlike most parents. The other day my daughter Abigail was climbing the stairs. As she gently, but very intentionally, put her knee up onto the next step she used the metal railing as leverage to lug the rest of her body onto the step with her. What she didn't know was that every time she attempted to pull the rest of her body up onto the step that her head would hit the railing. This followed with loud wails. My wife and I tried to redirect her to the middle of the stairs and be the "momentum" she needed to get her body onto the next step. As to say, "I can do this by myself," she scooted her little body back to the railing. Knee on step, lug body with metal rail, hit head on metal rail, loud screams, repeat. I guess some things in life our kids just have to learn on their own through the experience of pain. In fact, it's that grace-injected drive to push through the pain in order to achieve something greater that catalyzes our physical, spiritual, emotional and relational development. Yet most of us avoid pain like a toddler avoids spinach - we run, kick, scream and fight against allowing ourselves to experience it.
We don't want our kids to experience pain. Just watch parents' reactions when they find out their child has been bullied or unfairly criticized or demeaned by a teacher, coach or friend. That is the kind of pain that many of us meticulously attempt to control to make sure that our kids don't experience it. That's an easy one, though, because it's emotionally charged and injustice is written all over it. How about the pain of our kids not being able to have their typical comforts - video games, comfort foods, television? What about the pain of having our children dress themselves, brush their own teeth, pick-up their toys, fold their own laundry? What about the discomfort our kids might experience when serving at a soup kitchen, a homeless shelter or the local food bank? Aren't these the kind experiences that provide the distress, discomfort and internal wrestlings that shape our kids into something greater than themselves; namely, Christ. Jesus said some crazy words about these holy inconveniences that we, and our children, labor through:
- "I am sending you out as sheep among wolves" (Matt 10:16)
- "All men will hate you because of me" (Matt 10:22)
- "If anyone would come after me he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me" (Mark 8:34)
- "Blessed are you when men hate you, when they exclude you and insult and reject your name as evil, because of the Son of Man" (Luke 6:22)
Not exactly trite sayings for billboard advertising; yet, this is the surrender of our lives, and our children's lives, that Christ calls us to. Dying hurts. The road to death is filled with tears, blood, fluctuating emotions and sacrificing the very things that we find our pleasure and fulfillment in. It's a road that Jesus said is ridiculously "narrow" and that only a few will choose to travel. But for those precious few there is a greater reward on the other side of the pain. Jesus begged God to take away the "cup," the pain of carrying God's anger against sin to the cross, where he would be killed. He was sweating blood, literally. He was in distress, in great inner turmoil. Like us, Jesus pleaded that if there was any other way to accomplish the greater thing, any other way at all, that he would take that path. Yet, like Jesus, for us there is only one way to the greater thing and that is the way of death. Because God knows that on the other side of death is resurrection life unspeakable, joy unimaginable, peace not otherwise attainable. A flower dies - a sad sight, to be sure - only to exponentially spread seeds of life all over fertile ground. A follower of Christ dies to a damaging desire or behavior and replaces that with Christ's desires and actions. This results in what can only be experienced by death - the exponentiation of peace, joy, purpose, significance, life, resurrection.
We know, we know: no pain, no gain. We know the pain, even though it hurts like hell, is for something better. The feelings are so contrary to what we know is true, though. And I think this is why we find it so difficult for ourselves to accept pain as a gift for both us and our children. As a caveat, there are unnecessary pains that are unacceptable for children to experience by their primary caregivers: verbal, emotional, and physical abuse or neglect, to name just a couple. This is not the kind of distress that is being discussed. The opposite, in fact, is true. In order for our kids to come out of their comfort zone in order to experience the pain that is necessary for maturity, they need to have a comfort zone to come out of! This is a good tension: providing an oasis for our children and contextualized experiences of discomfort. In that tension, the messiest of all tensions, we say to our kids two things: you are safe, loved and worth more than you can imagine AND your identity will be, needs to be, tested in the incubator of pain.
This sounds so un-American, and it is. It sounds so different from the way "everybody" else lives. It is different. It's the narrow road. The road that leads to the greatest of all joys. It's a road worth traveling down for both ourselves and our children, for it is the only road that leads to what we are really looking for. We become alive when we embrace pain as the path to the greatest desire that God has injected into our bloodlines. The desire of being reconciled to him, to humanity, and to ourselves.
What does this look like in real life?
- Chat with a trusted mentor about what barriers hold you back from experiencing necessary pain? Fear, pride, control, etc.
- Pick one way that you can model before you child the acceptance of pain as the way to maturity ( for example, use your "spending money" to meet someone else's needs).
- Provide age-appropriate experiences for your child to experience necessary distress. Let them brush their teeth, bath themselves, take out the garbage, serve at a soup kitchen, use their allowance money to fill a box full of toys to give to a child who wouldn't otherwise have gifts for Christmas.
- Make a regular habit of serving together as a family at the local nursing home, soup kitchen, food bank, or charity.
- Do all of this in community with others. Not only is it encouraging, it makes these "habits" stick.
Your slowly dying-to-self friend,
Josh
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