There has been a lot written about the why of suffering. The question of theodicy, the problem of evil, and so on. It is the question of God’s permission of suffering that finds its answer first as another question, at the end of the book of Job. Then, through the incarnation and martyrdom, we can see how the different aspects of God ultimately lead us through suffering into what becomes a true union with God.
Worth a read in its entirety, the book of Job tells the story of a righteous and successful man who was faithful to the Lord. To prove Job’s righteousness, God permits the adversary to afflict Job in all manner of ways.
[Job 1:12] Then the Lord said to Satan: Behold, all that he hath is in thy hand: only put not forth thy hand upon his person. And Satan went forth from the presence of the Lord.
And so it is that Job suffers everything to be taken from him. The death of his family, the loss of his property, the removal of every material basis he could have to praise God. At the end of his trial, reduced to the brink of despair, he still continues to worship God, but goes so far as to offer Him a critique.
[21] Thou art changed to be cruel toward me, and in the hardness of thy hand thou art against me. [22] Thou hast lifted me up, and set me as it were upon the wind, and thou hast mightily dashed me. [23] I know that thou wilt deliver me to death, where a house is appointed for every one that liveth. [24] But yet thou stretchest not forth thy hand to their consumption: and if they shall fall down thou wilt save. [25] I wept heretofore for him that was afflicted, and my soul had compassion on the poor.
Job 30
Calling upon the remark of God in genesis 4:7, “If thou do well, shalt thou not receive? but if ill, shall not sin forthwith be present at the door?” Are not the good rewarded, and are not the wicked given to sin? Then Job’s monologue asks, why as he has done well has he been given over to such ill treatment? So God answers him.
[1] And the Lord answering Job out of the whirlwind, said: [2] Gird up thy loins like a man: I will ask thee, and do thou tell me. [3] Wilt thou make void my judgment: and condemn me, that thou mayst be justified? [4] And hast thou an arm like God, and canst thou thunder with a voice like him?
Job 40
This is the essence of God’s question to the one who suffers. Will you condemn me to justify yourself? God has these vast designs, can we say that we know better? Fallen human nature provides this temptation, to turn our back on God’s design to confirm ourselves in our delusions. Even if we cannot condemn God, the suffering inherent in God’s design is something that must be wrestled with.
We can better understand God’s designs on suffering through the incarnation. The man of sorrows from Isiah born in this world to suffer and die. It is this man of such suffering who would call us His friends in the book of John.
[14] You are my friends, if you do the things that I command you. [15] I will not now call you servants: for the servant knoweth not what his lord doth. But I have called you friends: because all things whatsoever I have heard of my Father, I have made known to you.
John 15
The mark of a friend is one who shares in the life of another. Christ calls us His friends, a thing that it is a privilege to be, but to truly share in the life of Christ means sharing in all of it. Embracing the agony in the garden, and the pure suffering of the cross as moments we must share if we are to be His friend.
The suffering involved with sharing the life of Christ as His friend is too much for anyone to naturally endure. An animal that were to endure it would be left completely broken and drained. Even with the help of God it still leaves us wounded. Deep scars draining in to the ground. We take these wounds to Christ the physician. As our blood pours out in suffering, it becomes replaced with the mystical blood of God. This divine blood changes a person, transforming their soul, sometimes producing the accident of mystical experiences. These experiences come in many forms, but it can’t be a surprise that those who share so closely in the life of Christ would also share in some of the supernatural aspects.
This mystical purgation is described in the Dark Night of the Soul by John of the Cross.
Jeremias well shows how the soul is purged when it is illumined with this fire of loving wisdom (for God never grants mystical wisdom without love, since love itself infuses it), where he says: 'He hath sent fire into my bones, and hath taught me.' And David says that the wisdom of God is silver tried in fire—that is, in purgative fire of love. For this dark contemplation infuses into the soul love and wisdom jointly, to each one according to his capacity and need, enlightening the soul and purging it, in the words of the Wise Man, from its ignorances, as he said was done to himself.
Dark Night 2-12
Here John shows how in the Old Testament this purifying suffering takes the form of fire. The fire sent in to the bones, the fire purifying silver. The suffering of the soul that transmutes it in to something of greater value. A central theme of the Dark Night is how an aversion to suffering prevents the purification of the soul, as without embracing the suffering, the soul remains impure having not gone through the forge of God, and in its lingering imperfection, it remains unable to face Him. The purgative phase prepares the soul to turn to true friendship with Christ, to be illuminated by His wisdom, and to shine with His light.
We see this in the defining characteristic of the holiest people. Of the dozen whom Christ called His friends in that moment, all but one would go on to share in the violent death He would suffer. Even for those without a violent death, the great friends of God are marked by the suffering of their lives. John of the Cross’ life was marked by hunger and sickness. At one time, he was even imprisoned and tortured by his fellow Carmelites, and marked all of his pain as well worth it to share in the suffering of Christ. To too many of us this is an alien concept. It is so easy to shy away from suffering and austerity, but in doing so we miss out on God offering us this true moment of intimacy. To be in the garden with Him during the long night, in those quiet moments. To be on the cross in front of the maddened crowd. This is the flower produced through suffering, and it is a flower that only the holiest can bring to bloom.
These are the greatest friends of Christ. Those who accept all suffering so gratefully as it permits them to intimately share the deepest parts of Christ’s life. Not like Job, through reluctance and questioning, but in unflinching devotion under the harshest penalties. Exsanguinated and filled with the mystical blood, they shine like Moses through the veil, being a beacon of God’s light in the world.