Pain

In Star Trek V: The Final Frontier, the Enterprise crew encounters an emotional Vulcan who has the power to take away peoples' pain. The catch was that once their pain was gone, they had become loyal zombies. Finally he works his magic on Spock and Bones, and when Kirk refuses, Bones tries to get him to go along so his (Kirk's) pain could be taken away too. Kirk responded: "Damn it, Bones, you're a doctor. You know that pain and guilt can't be taken away with a wave of a magic wand. They're the things we carry with us, the things that make us who we are. If we lose them, we lose ourselves. I don't want my pain taken away! I need my pain!"

Maybe it was because the movie was so forgettable (and it is probably best that most of it is forgotten) but those words resonated with me when I first heard them, and I still ponder on them from time to time. I don't think it is just that, at my core, I am a bit of an existentialist and that words like these touch that existential soul. I think they are essentially true.

There have been many times over the years when the "pastor" in me wanted to take away the pain that people were going through. But ironically, if I could take away their pain, that would probably be the worst thing I could do for them. A chicken hatching from an egg works and labors and suffers through the experience. Often observers feel sorry for the young chick, and try to help it emerge from the egg. What we have learned is that chicks who are assisted in their hatching die -- a chick has to work its way out of its egg itself. Nobody can hatch for that chick; the chick has to hatch on its own.

Pain is like that. It is something we have to do on our own. Nobody can do our pain for us. Nobody can take it away. But to the faithful, that pain becomes a tool, and ceases to be a hindrance. And frankly, a lot of the time -- not always -- the reason why I want to take away someone's pain is because their pain makes me feel uncomfortable, so it is not an act of compassion, but an act of selfishness.

I have lived through many things and experienced a lot of pain -- some of it I caused myself, some of it was generously provided for me. Although it is hard to see any benefit of pain when I am going through it, at some point, someone I encounter will be going through what I have just been through, and I can talk to that person, and be there with that person, and understand that person. I cannot take away the pain, but I can make sure that person is not alone during the pain, and I can let that person know that someone understands.

Pain hurts, but it is more than that. I am aware of the pain, and I am aware that I am aware of it, and that compounds the hurt. Then I am aware that nobody seems to understand the pain I am going through, and that my pain makes them uncomfortable, so they just want to ignore my pain, or take it away, or move on, but I am stuck in the pain. I am stuck in the awareness that I am hurt and alone and nobody gets it, and nobody seems to want to get it, and all that makes that unbearable pain beyond being unbearable. But because I have experienced so much pain, I can be there for those who experience the same kind of pain -- and even though I cannot take it away, I may be able to help make it more bearable.

Compassion means "to suffer with"; it is not empathy, but a genuine sharing of circumstances. For Christians, Jesus Christ is God's compassion. God did not just stand aloof and empathize with us, God jumped into our circumstances and lived as us, with us -- that is compassion. I am able to be compassionate to alcoholics because I know their pain because I went through it myself. So, the question becomes for us: "Where is our pain and what have we suffered and endured?" because we can best help others who are going through what we went through. God does not take away our pain. God transforms our pain. Our pain ceases to be a wound or a limp, and it becomes a tool.

Someone once told me a long time ago, in a dismissive manner, that God is just a crutch. I guess I was supposed to be offended or argue with that, but instead I agreed. "You're right, God is a crutch, but when you're crippled, a crutch is a good thing to have -- and for years I was crippled, but because of my crutch, now I can walk."