Immanuel
What does “God with us” look like in real life?
Last week I looked my list of potential newsletter topics and chose one to develop for this week. I find it’s useful to keep an ongoing list of ideas, and I have a reminder that shows up on my calendar a week ahead so I start actively pondering. I hold these topics loosely, though, because sometimes another idea rises, or events take me in a new direction. In this week’s case it was more the latter—to the extent that I didn’t even get a letter out on Wednesday.
Usually if I don’t get a letter written for my self-imposed deadline, I let it go, and aim for my next date. Looking at this semester’s schedule, though, I think I may shift my biweekly date altogether. I realize that none of this affects any of you, but now, for better or for worse, you have one more glimpse into how the mind of Loren works ;-) .
So what events shifted me from my intended topic? A few. Last Saturday I had a twinge in my lower back that by Sunday afternoon became a significant pain. I spent Sunday night through Monday night babying it. Thankfully we had no events Monday because of MLK Day, and by Tuesday I was able to tackle things again. A good thing, because Tuesday was packed. I’m still treating my back with care, but it’s much better, and I hope I’ve gained more empathy for those who suffer chronic back pain.
It’s that concept of suffering which has knocked out my previous topic choice. I’m not going to give suffering a full treatise here, but my run-in with back pain, two interactions Tuesday, and a conversation Wednesday got me thinking about it more. In my Wednesday conversation, a friend who’s dealing with an aging father and insurance headaches admitted she wished there was a shortcut for it all. Wouldn’t it be lovely if we could get past the bother to the solution? To the end? But the more we talked about it, we realized how the process of pain and navigating with people is part of the purpose.
What purpose?
I don’t often chooses a word for the year, but since the beginning of January the concept of Immanuel, God with us, has pressed into my consciousness again and again. So many times in life we can’t see why we’re dealing with what we are dealing with. We can’t see how in the world it’s a good thing, or at all beneficial. At this point we have options. We can respond in despair: The world is a tragedy, there is no God, and the best we can do is struggle along and hope for sunny days. Things might improve if we have just the right technology, or a person to love (but really, can you trust anyone?). Another response is a fairly typical spiritual one: There is a God, yes, but the world is fallen and sinful, and so there’s suffering. We just have to live with it, and look forward to heaven, or God’s judgment of evil, and his restoration with the new heaven and new earth. While this is a more accurate view of the future than despair, it doesn’t really help with the now factor.
Does God care about us in the now?
That’s where Immanuel steps in. Jesus didn’t come to earth, do his work, and then leave. God sent his Comforter, the Spirit, to continue on with us. When inevitable suffering occurs, I can choose to ignore God or recognize that God is in the midst of it all with me.
I admit it’s more easy to mentally acknowledge God’s presence with us in the midst of suffering that to feel it. So that still begs the question of how it really makes a difference. I don’t have a definitive answer for that. I know that when my back pain was at its worst a few days ago I wasn’t serenely dwelling on the presence of God in my life. Rather I was desperately throwing up prayers for relief and taking more ibuprofen.
I mentioned two interactions Tuesday that got me thinking more about this. Tuesday afternoon I visited a close friend facing a lot of pain right now due to advanced cancer. She mentioned with a laugh at one point that “if she were a good Christian” she’d be reading her Bible constantly and other theological tomes. The problem is, it’s impossible for her to concentrate when the pain is severe. Instead, she’s relying on the truths of scripture that she’s steeped in for years…and reading space operas where the stories sometimes remind her of truths she’s internalized. Tuesday night another good friend reached out by text to a small group of us to let us know of a new crisis in a family drama that’s gone on for years. None of us are physically close enough to be with her in person, and we reached back in the only way we could, with strong words of encouragement and prayer that she would be able to hang onto the truth of our words and that God would wrap her closely in her arms, because he was there with her.
In each of these situations, there is little one can do. In the midst of suffering, we definitely won’t be taking great life-changing or world-lifting action. We won’t be “reaching the lost” (to use a common evangelical phrase), and we won’t be reforming social and political systems. If God is with us, though, right here in the midst of it all, we can take one step forward, and then another step. We can recognize there is more in the moment than the pain. There is still beauty and hope, even if we can’t see them, and if we have any sort of community, there are others out there who care for us. When others are suffering, our presence with them helps them hang on, too. It’s a matter of being together that is so important. God is still at work in us and in the world, and we can trust him that this time of suffering is part of that greater picture. We can’t make sense of it all—we may not even have the strength or capacity to think it through—but we can rest in the truth that God is with us. Presence is the point.
Check out Daughter of Arden at Bandersnatchbooks.com, along with other great titles.
You can find links to more of my writing at A Shaft of Sun Through the Rain and my old blog, Willing, Wanting, Waiting.
Don’t forget to check out Bandersnatch Books’ podcast, including my interview in Season 1, episode 2!
Even in emotional suffering: God-with-us. Seems trivial to compare unemployment to physical trials, but I've been thinking about how Christ himself did not earn a living during his ministry years, trusting his Father to provide day by day.
Thank you for this, Loren! We have lots of chronic health challenges in my family, so your topic is one that I've thought about often: as Christians, how are we to respond to suffering? I love your answer. Perhaps we are simply to respond in faith, holding on to the truth that God is with us, even -- perhaps especially -- in those moments when we can't feel His presence.