Without Pain There Cannot be Compassion...

It’s been a rough, long past 2 years… Something that has circled through my mind again and again, is “why God? Why are you letting bad things happen to good people?”

Usually I hear this from others, when there’s a terrible natural disaster on the news, or some gruesome and terrible thing befalls people who are close to me. I hear this comment and see it almost every day… I know at one point or another we’ve all said it, at least once in our lives…

In my life lately I’ve said it so much, I never want to say it again. I’ve always tried to do the right thing… I’ve always tried to be the better person, the one who is there, the one that when it’s all said and done people will say, she was a good person. Sometimes, I get it right… and sometimes, I fail. Not just an “Oops, my bad” fail… but these past few years, I’ve failed at so many thing, and gotten it so disastrously wrong so many times, there’s nothing left to screw up other than to take the shattered pieces of my life and throw them in the gutter…

So, I’ve been contemplating this… during the dark watches of the nights, alone, or driving to and from my daily destinations, wishing I could just keep on going to where no one knows me anymore… “Why God? Why are all these bad things happening to me? Why am I being put through all this?”
It’s been a long road of recovery, and I’m nowhere near ready to say I’m there… but to this particular question. I might have an answer.

Because without pain, there cannot be compassion.
Yep. I’m afraid, it’s just that simple.

Thomas Merton once wrote… “The whole idea of compassion is based in a keen awareness of the interdependence of all the living beings, which are all part of one another, and all involved in one another.”

It may be a pretty big concept to grasp for some… so let’s start small. Have you ever seen anyone stub their toe, really hard?? As they are dancing around, crying in pain… what is your first thought? “Oh my gosh, I know how bad that hurts!! Are you ok??” Ever sympathized with someone who has a paper cut? Or got something in their eyes? You feel for them, you ach for them cause you’ve been there, you know it’s out of their control, (it’s not like they did it on purpose!) and you know how much that stings. And there it is. Compassion ~ kindergarten style.


To that person that watch someone die, or lost them suddenly in a tragic way. I know this pain, and will hold you closer in my heart. To that single mother who cant pay the bills but doesn't give up; I now have compassion and respect. To that person (and oh, there are so many of us!) who is dealing with lost love, I can say, I know how you feel, and mean it with all my heart, not just that sympathy thing people say. With respect, and compassion, I can share their pain, and hopefully help them deal with it and start to heal. Total burnout at work? Yep… I know that one too… Learning to live again after someone’s abuse and alcoholic ways. anxiety attacks, depression, feelings of complete worthlessness, suicide, loneliness, frustration and loss of faith… come sit next to me. We can bleed and cry, and heal together… and yet, we can still hold our heads up and look each other in the eyes… because there is respect and understanding. Not sympathy, not pity. MY pain has given me compassion for THEM.
　
I think all these thing I’ve been going through, struggling with, suffering from, are yet another lesson for me. I’ve always believed, even when my faith was at (and is) it’s lowest, that to everything, everyday, God has a lesson for me… It’s just up to me to listen and find it.

Even though I’ve felt for people and have tried to do the right thing, there’s always been an underlying element there that perhaps I missed. The humility and true compassion for the situation. I admit, pride is one of my biggest sins. I’ve always believed, I’ve had it under control, that I could do it on my own, that I didn‘t need anyone. Especially when sometimes (more often than not) it creates more hassle than help… and for the most part, I have. But these last few years, I’ve had to take great lessons in humility because when everything is in little tiny pieces you cannot pick them up alone.

When you see someone in a situation or with a problem, sometimes we think, “how’d they let themselves get into that situation?” or “why would they let this happen to them? I would never let that happen.” Your still willing to help, and you’re still there, but in the quiet of your mind, those little thoughts are sometimes there. I have been guilty of that more than I care to admit. That is a form of pride that makes compassion suffer.

“Sometimes compassion also carries a sense of pity. This is wrong--any love or compassion which entails looking down on the other is not genuine compassion. To be genuine, compassion must be based on respect for the other, and on the realization that others have the right to be happy and overcome suffering just as much as you.”
The Dalai Lama

1 Peter 3:8 “finally all of you, live in harmony with one another. Be sympathetic, love as brothers, be compassionate and humble”

Compassion can not exist with out humility. To the lucky ones, they were born with natural humility. To the rest of us hard headed stubborn souls, we’ve had to learn it. The hard way, over and over again… Life has knocked me down so many times, that I wasn’t able to get up. Thank God his strength is made perfect in my weakness. He’s been the one to lift me up, drag me on, and with the help of other he’s blessed me with in my life, thankfully, I’m still here…

This road of recovery and rediscovering myself is going to be long. It‘s been painful, hurtful and embarrassing…But at least I’m finally on the road. And after all of it, I’ve also found a new sense of pride. Not the pride from before that said I can do it, or that wont happen to me… This is the good kind. The kind that says I've been there, I’m surviving, and I’m able to help you, to understand you… The kind that when I find people who are where I was, I look at them new ~ completely, humbly, respectfully and compassionately.

In Memory of Pastor Terry Key...

We once knew a man… This man baptized my son. On a dark night of violence, he came and snatched my two little boys while a knife fight was going on in my home… he was quick with a smile and a handshake, he was calm, caring, a humble man of God, quick with a song, and the fastest person to pull you into a genuine hug. And Christmas Eve, he passed away…
My battles in my life, and with my faith distanced me from this man in the end, much to my regret… but his touch on my life will not be forgotten. When I first started attending his little church, I would sit quietly, in the back, head down, eyes down, fearful and torn, feeling I didn‘t belong in such a holy place. I was a lost and fallen away Christian. I had to many sins to deserve to be there… and his words would heal and comfort me… I remember several of my first few visits finding myself in tears because I felt he was speaking directly to me…
A story he told often… And one that touched me and always made me think… I may not get it right verbatim, but I know what he was trying to say to me, and this story sticks with me, even today…

“There was an elderly man that attended church for most of his life. Then one Sunday he didn’t come. No one really thought much of it at first… after several Sundays had passed and the man still hadn’t come, the Preacher decided it was time to go and talk with the elderly man…
The preacher came in to see the man sitting in front of a dying fire. The heat of the embers warming the room, glowing red in the fireplace.
“I know why you’re here, Preacher.” said the man before he could speak. “I’m just tired of it all. If I don’t want to go to church anymore and I shouldn’t have to.” The Preacher sat down next to the man in front of the fire, as the man continued the many reasons why he didn’t need church…
After a long silence, the Preacher, who still hadn’t spoken, took the fireplace poker and started to stir the embers… pretty soon, he pulled a large glowing red on fire ember out of the pile… he placed the ember on the edge of the cold stones of the fireplace.
As the two men sat there, in silence, they watched the ember… slowly fade, growing cold and dying out…
With a tear in the old man’s eye, he said. “I hear you Preacher. I’ll be there next Sunday.”

Rest in Peace Terry Key. You were an amazing man of faith in this life. Your work here was done, your rewards wait. You’ll see the peace and comfort in the face of God and welcome us who follow after you, because of your teaching, and sharing of faith. I know my family will miss you, but I cant be sad that your gone, because I know you in the one place you were meant to be in…