Life Is Good(aside from all the crap)

Life Is Good(aside from all the crap)

Theodicy is the discipline that seeks to understand why there is so much suffering in the world. To say that human life is often tragic—filled with loss, pain, and mourning—is so obvious that it hardly needs saying. Yet countless pages have been written trying to explain it.

There are some fortunate people for whom life is good in their younger years. But even for them, there comes a point when life begins to take its toll—when “things” start to happen.

When going through suffering, answers don’t mean much. In those moments, all that can be done is to take the next breath, do the next task, and somehow make it through the day. This tragic side of life is what fills the news. If it is not a natural disaster, it is one human being harming another. As the old saying goes, man is often a wolf to man.

Our lives can turn on a dime. This becomes more evident as the years pass and many of us discover how easily illness can come.

In 2011, I had a pacemaker put in. On Monday I was fine. By Tuesday, I was getting winded walking down the hallway, unable to manage stairs. I tried to ignore it—denial comes easily. I’ve been told men are especially prone to it. Whether that is true or not, I certainly gave it a good try. It didn’t work.

By Thursday, I was in the Veterans ER. Just like that, my heart began to fail me. In earlier times, many men died in their early sixties from what I had—conditions that are now treated with a pacemaker. I learned then how easily one can become sick—and how easily one might die. Had I waited a few more days, I might not be here.

The doctor showed some frustration when I told her how long it had been going on. Stupid, perhaps—but also understandable. Who really believes, deep down, that they might be dying?

Me? Nah. No way. That’s for other people.

And yet, life is good.

There is joy. There is peace, love, and friendship. Getting older even has its advantages—though the growing awareness of my mortality is not one of them. My inner life has changed over the years. My heart is different now, though I often wish I were further along.

My head and my heart still feel miles apart. Writing offers me a narrow path—a kind of one-lane entrance—into that inner country which remains, in many ways, a mystery. The softness of being that we are capable of still feels distant to me, and I cannot control this. I cannot force it.

All I can do is stay open and try to embrace life as it comes.

I carry many doubts—about almost everything. At times, existence can feel absurd, even meaningless. Yet long ago I made a decision: to deepen my faith. To follow those longings of the heart, however faint or obscure, that continue to draw me forward.

Often this search feels like walking through a desert. Still, something persists—something that urges me deeper. I believe this is grace, active in all of us, whether we recognize it or not.

There is no closure in faith. I cannot say, “This is it—I have arrived.” There is always more to face, more to wrestle with. Life has a way of bringing experiences—often not pleasant—that strip away illusions and leave the heart raw.

I still repress at times, though not as skillfully as I once did. Perhaps that is because I no longer want to hide.

In the midst of struggle, pain, seeking—and the occasional moments of joy—something shifts. Depression, for me, becomes harder to hold onto when I am fully engaged with the process. Not gone, but loosened.

I wish there were less pain and more joy. But perhaps I am given just enough joy to awaken a deeper thirst—one that nothing in this world can fully satisfy.

And yet, that joy does come.

It comes in small things:
in smiles,
in friendship (which is not a small thing at all),
in a gentle breeze,in cold water when thirsty,in the quiet goodness of ordinary people—the salt of the earth.

These small things matter.

Perhaps it is these moments that truly heal us. Not grand solutions or final answers, but brief, unbidden gifts—little havens scattered throughout the day. When they touch us, they do so beyond our control.

They come in the present moment—not in our worries about the future, nor in our regrets about the past.

And in those moments, quietly and without explanation, something in us is restored. -Br.MD

 

Very true and a beautiful reflection on growing older. Denial is always the reaction to feeling the effect of growing older. Maybe that's a good thing. My 13th grandchild is due to see the light of day in the next few weeks P. G..
I need to pretend to myself that I'm much younger as it will be hands on with helping out. My daughter and her family will be with us for a few more months as their house is not ready yet.

 

Your reflection hits home for me. Life is fragile and it can change in an instant. But in end it does not define me. Yes, suffering can be a desert. But God let the Hebrews roam the desert for 40 years after he rescued them from slavery. Of course they grumbled and even wanted to go back to slavery. For me my accident was a gift that God allowed- like the Hebrews He led me to the desert. Not to punish but to give me time to reflect on where my heart is. Is it in the Lord or trust in myself. I think I'm slowly learning in this desert. It is a place that helps me despite the doubts and pains. It us a place of love from the Lord. I pray I resist Him less and come to full trust.

I too find writing helps me ... something I wrote recently:


God wastes nothing.
Not your pain.
Not your tears.
Not your fear.
Not your questions.
Not your brokenness.

He can take what was meant to destroy you and turn it into a place of encounter, a place of healing, a place of transformation.

Peace.

 

Read this today...

 

I love this reflection. Your title reminded me that when I was a teenager and struggling terribly in my home life, I would rise each morning and say to myself my own personal motto: "Life is hard, but it's good." Sometimes I would say that several times a day. Suffering feels like it's followed me from the cradle, but I suspect that is the case for everyone, in some shape or fashion. My husband always said he had an easy childhood relatively free from suffering, but his parents didn't teach him his faith and he had no real relationship with God until his upper teens. I wouldn't trade the suffering of my childhood with his carefree one if it meant losing the very precious, up close and personal relationship I forged with Jesus, Mary and my guardian angel from my toddlerhood. To this day, my husband has trouble relating to God on a deep level. I suspect suffering is the vehicle for that. But then again, we are not all called to the same depths. God loves the oak tree whose roots stretch deep beneath the earth, but He also loves the wildflowers whose roots are shallow but whose faces are sunny and content.

 

Beautiful thread
Very inspiring

 

Oooh

 

Truth!

 

I remember reading an article on time about the Crucifix in Christian Art. They said that Christ Crucified was never portrayed in art for the first two or three centuries. Why? Because it was the most shameful kind of death anyone could ever think of. Naked and tortured on a couple of pieces of wood , the Early Christians could not get their heads round such a thing, so no paintings of it. They simply could not come to terms with it.

A months or so my car engine appeared to start overheating like crazy and alarms went of. But actually it was not the engine at all that was hot, It was the heat sensor, The little arrow showed in the red but there was nothing at all wrong with the water, the oil or the engine. It just seemed like there was.

We are like this with suffering. Where the arrow should point to for us is to the Cross. We should be suffering in the natural course of things. But the real suffering is when our suffering appears meaningless, with no point to it. This is the real agony of suffering. If the sensor the little inner needle in our spiritual dashboard were working we would know the engine was fine. But God permits us to undergo the agony of the sensor not working. This is to make our suffering greater so that we would be more closely united.

We are meant to feel lost. We are meant to feel like it is all crap. Our inner sensor is supposed not to work from time to time..

But from time to time too the clouds are allowed to clear. Our Sensor starts working again and we know it is not really all crap at all. The suffering may not go away. But it takes on meaning and that is everything.

 

So true. What gets to me the most is feeling like my suffering is useless and God doesn't hear me. But I try to remember how awful God the Father must have felt when He had to let Jesus feel abandoned and hear Him cry out, "Abba, Father, why have you abandoned me?" Only the most profound Love and purpose would have compelled Him to endure such a thing.

 

Great posts! “Come unto Me all you who
labor and are heavy-laden, and I will refresh you……My yoke is easy and My burden light.”

 

Yes we must drink the cup unto the lees,

if we knew all about the reason and purpose of our sufferings we would be like actors on a stage. Only pretending to suffer. It is the fact that we are lost in our sufferings that make them real.

 

Totally agree

 

I agree with HH. This is a beautiful thread with beautiful reflections from Mark Dohle, Miker, Padraig and PF, true voices from hearts that have known suffering. Anyone making a compilation of reflections on suffering would benefit greatly from including the ones here and even elsewhere on the forum. When dark days come, these are some of the crutches we need to get back to our feet.

 

We have to die to self. To me, the only way I can do that is by the grace from Jesus.
And thankfully, I have found that He is a gentle Savior. He knows when I can’t take any more, and He lightens up my burdens.
That was one of the first Scriptures that attracted me when I was young. It is a promise that He will refresh us. I have a terrible time with my emotions. I am always happy when my burdens are lightened, even if it is just for a little while.
My DIL says there is a reason for everything, and we might not know it. But we will find out in Heaven.
For years, I couldn’t cry. Now I can.

 

Yes, I think from reading the lives of the saints the depth and types of sufferings vary greatly from person to person. But I have found in my own life that it is a bit like the Irish weather it comes and goes. Or I suppose you could describe it as God giving us a break. During these rest periods we can see the point and meaning of our sufferings and it is a source of great joy and peace. Or again we could describe it as like climbing a mountain through a mist but now again the mist clears and we can see where we are.

I don't know if suffering is like this for everyone . Some people don't seem to get these breaks but I do.

 

Agree

 

These are posts are "Awe" and deeply true. Thank you Brother Mark for sharing and for those who added their reflections.

 

I think too we are at the Evening tide of Faith. The Great Apostasy. As Pope St John Paul2 said the final Spiritual Battle between good and evil. As Malachi Martin said grace is draining for the World. What this means that for the rest of us is we have to take up the Spiritual Slack for our Sisters and brothers who have chosen the road to hell. Taking up the slack means to bear a much heavier Cross to compensate.

Just as the hymn says.