My wife and I have just had a daughter at the end of January. We are overjoyed with the event and all that it will entail for our lives. On the other hand, we have also been dealing with a few challenges that seem at least to us to go beyond our abilities. Georgia Lynn pretty consistently goes through long spells of inconsolable crying. Even when she can be consoled, she often requires constant holding (and bouncing) for hours on end despite the fact that she is warm (not too warm), has plenty to eat and is changed every five minutes or so. At the same time, we have been dealing with various random but significant plumbing problems and car troubles along with their attendant bills. I don't intend to complain overly of these problems (I often don't even bear the brunt of them the way my wife does!). I also know that many others have dealt with far worse. And yet, in all honesty I have not handled things very well. I must admit that I have occasionally wondered with varying levels of seriousness why God would not just intervene and deliver us from the burden of my daughter's cries in some miraculous cure for the colic. I even give myself the fleeting satisfaction of believing I might deserve such a thing. I am, after all, doing what He wants, right? (If she would be a little more manageable, I would be freed up to write more in my profoundly important humility blog, after all!)
Obviously in my rational moments I realize that my level of frustration (the level, not the existence) is rooted once again in my personal pride. I seem almost incapable of remembering how much I have to be thankful for in the midst of any amount of suffering because somewhere in my heart I think I deserve better than other people.
All of this has come to a sharp focus for me recently when I heard the story of one of our students. This young woman was a mother of four when she was diagnosed with cancer. She then found out she was pregnant with her fifth. The doctors suggested that she abort the child, but she (heroically) chose to ignore this advice. The child is healthy, but recently the cancer has spread to her brain. Please offer a prayer for her and her family as she prepares for her next surgery.
My own troubles fade to nothing, of course, in the face of these events. The mind recoils from the possibility that such a thing could happen to me. But this sort of thing is happening all the time somewhere in the world. If I can't deal with the little inconveniences of my own comfortable life, what would become of me in those circumstances? Can I really afford to lack so much Christian character that I have no confidence I could deal with something like that? I find myself in a classic catch 22: I have it too bad to be content with my situation, and I have it too good to deserve to feel bad.
Rather than give in to discouragement and frustration with myself over my limitations, I think it best to turn back to that principle of lived humility that drives the reflections in this space: to humble oneself is the way one lives out the call of Christ. I can only become a stronger Christian by going through this little desert because it is a desert for me. If I were not pushed to my limits I would not be able to expand those limits in order to become the person God created me to be. These are the but the early labor pains which will bring forth my own new life.
If anything, the stress I experience and will ultimately endure will be a means for me to give something back to God for the gift of such a beautiful daughter. That is an encouraging thought for me to hold on to this Lent.
...I would say more, but I think Georgia may be about to cry...
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