The Problem Of Pain

In my collection of what I call "keeper books" I have a C.S. Lewis section, and one of the books in that section is entitled "The Problem of Pain."

Here's the problem with pain.  Pain is powerful.  Nothing in the world captures my attention like my pain does.  If I hit my thumb with a hammer it is virtually impossible to care about the cute thing my grandson said or the beauty of a bird's song.  When my thumb is throbbing, I want both of them to be quiet!

Pain demands my full devotion.  Pain commands my complete allegiance.  When I'm hurting, I can't think about anything else. 

Right now, I'm feeling some pretty powerful pain.  Right now, the pain is acute.  If I were in the doctor's office and had to rate my pain on the chart with the little faces on it, I would point to the face with the tears.  Maybe you can relate. 

Some people live with chronic pain.  If you’re one of those people I can’t begin to say I know how you feel.  My pain is not physical.  My pain comes from a different place.

In his little book on pain Lewis said, "Mental pain is less dramatic than physical pain, but it is more common and also more hard to bear.”  (My friends who live with intense physical pain may not agree with that last phrase.)  “The frequent attempt to conceal mental pain increases the burden: it is easier to say 'My tooth is aching' than to say 'My heart is broken.'" 

Heart pain is the worst!  It's virtually impossible to medicate. 

My mother lives with chronic pain for which she consumes a lot of pills, but eventually the pills lose their potency and the pain is still there.

There is no pill strong enough to take the edge off of heart pain.  Lots of people have tried. 

I think the only thing you can do with heart pain is share it.  Talk about it.  Try to convert it into words and breathe them into somebody's ear. 

I guess that's what I'm doing with this blog… regurgitating my pain.  I don't have to tell you why I'm hurting.  Right now, it's enough just to tell you that I am. 

I guess that's part of what we do when we pray.  Prayer is, in part, converting our pain into words and breathing them into the ears of God. 

I can't promise that the pain will go away, at least not immediately.  I can only tell you what I tell myself… over and over again.  The one who the prophet Isaiah claims "bore our pain and took up our sufferings," is anxious to listen.