Word of Wisdom: Suffering

“A man who fears suffering is already suffering from what he fears.”
Michel de Montaigne

“To live is to suffer” may be attributed to Nietzsche, but it has been the lived experience of every human who has walked the earth. There has not been, nor will there be, a life lived in this age of the world that does not suffer injury, illness, loss, and death.

Suffering, sadly, is a fact of life—even in fiction.

At the end of The Lord of the Rings saga, two faithful friends lie huddled on the scorched terrain of Mount Doom, wounded, dehydrated, and starving after having been hunted, betrayed, attacked, and left for dead in the midst of a war that swept them out of all that was comfortable and safe. Moreover, Frodo bears the One Ring, and the full weight of its evil—a burden none of his compatriots can fully understand.

Samwise, his devoted companion, would take the burden from him if he could, but knowing he can’t, he does the one thing he can: “I can’t carry it for you…but I can carry you! C’mon!” With that, he lifts his friend’s exhausted body over his shoulder and begins to carry him up the mountain, toward their goal…and almost certain death.

It’s an inspiring cinematic moment, and calls to mind other scenes depicting heroic suffering in combat, like Private Doss carrying wounded soldiers in Hacksaw Ridge, or Forrest carrying Bubba out of an ambush, or Trip carrying the flag up the embankments of Fort Wagner.

In all of them, severe suffering, and the act of carrying or being carried.

It’s an odd juxtaposition—suffering and carrying—because in our experience of suffering as embodied, mortal beings, the primary sensation when we suffer is isolation—separation, aloneness, confinement apart from community. We sense that we alone have this pain, this predicament, this problem that is producing agony and anguish.

And yet, there is a carrying. This strange response to pain that meets the apparent helplessness of suffering with the hope-inducing act of lifting and bearing.

Let’s look to the word itself for understanding.

Our English word suffer comes to us from the Old French sofrir, meaning “to bear, endure, tolerate or allow”. Already, something emerges: while we often think of suffering as the passive position of simply experiencing pain or anguish, its essence is not passive but active—the bearing, enduring, even tolerating of pain and discomfort.

In other words, to suffer is a decision, not a debilitating dilemma. Indeed, the word’s development in English was entwined with the Passion of the Christ and later tales of martyrs—those who bravely endured pain because of the joy and purpose set before them.

Digging deeper, we discover more. The French sofrir came from the Latin sufferre, “to undergo, endure, carry”, from sub- (“up, under”) and ferre (“to carry"). This from an ancient root word meaning “to carry” and even “to bear children”.

Suffering, it seems, is inherent to sonship and fatherhood. And this understanding leads us more fully into the freedom of the Son and Father.

When we conceptualize suffering as an opportunity to endure rather than an occurrence to avoid, we move from being a passive victim of circumstances to living as an active agent in the divine drama playing out all around us. When we understand suffering as a process of carrying and being carried rather than a cruel coincidence or karmic calamity, we can begin to both receive from others and turn outward from ourselves to lift and carry the one next to us, bearing them toward safety and healing.

In short, we begin living like a son and leading like a father; more precisely, we live more like the Son and lead more like the Father.

We exhibit more fully the traits of this Abba, who has compassion for (literally “suffers with”) his sons and daughters and carries them in his arms not only when they are young, but through every season of their lives, and never fails to love them by speaking softly over them and generously guiding them.

And like the Son, we begin to experience less fear, less self-concerned sensitivities, more pleasure in proximity to our Provider and Protector. We begin to cast the pain and anxieties we carry onto him, so that we in turn can carry those around us—not fixing their failures, but bearing their burdens. Not out of dry duty and obligation, but out of divine delight and affection, knowing that we ourselves are being carried by a community, whether seen or unseen.

And that is an encouraging thought.

“Do not fear what you are about to suffer.” Revelation 2:10a