The Ultimate Paradox

A good movie is worth watching over and over again.  Of course, my definition of "good" might differ from other people's definition.  No matter how often I've seen it, "The Sound of Music" still inspires me to sing, to appreciate the everyday blessings of life, and to follow my dreams.  The "Lord of the Rings" trilogy draws me into the world of Middle Earth where I find myself believing once again that true friendship can withstand any test or trial, and good will eventually triumph over evil.  And tears come to my eyes every time I hear King George VI proclaim,  "I have a voice!" in the film, "The King's Speech," because it reminds me that I, too, have a voice -- and I not only have a right, but an obligation, to use it.

In much the same way, a good book is worth reading over and over again.  Every five years or so I pick up my Chronicles of Narnia books and follow the adventures of Lucy, Susan, Peter, Edmund, Mr. & Mrs. Beaver, Eustice, Prince Caspian, Polly, and all the others as they learn how to love and obey Aslan and care for Aslan's Narnia.  I love to read and re-read anything written by Henri Nouwen (I readily admit my extreme prejudice toward Nouwen!)  And recently I picked up a book that I first read when I was in college but now it seems as if I am reading it for the first time -- again.


As a shy, insecure college freshman, I found Hinds Feet on High Places (by Hannah Hurnard) a book that brought me comfort and hope.  An insightful and beautifully written allegory of the Christian life, Hinds Feet seemed as if it were written about ME, because I saw so much of myself in the main character, "Much Afraid."  I read this book and gained courage from Much Afraid's journey, as it seemed to parallel much of my own journey toward healing and wholeness.  She attained the transformation I longed for, with a new name ("Grace and Glory") and new-found courage to serve the Shepherd. 


But in my more recent reading of this book I've discovered two characters I almost overlooked in my previous readings.  Strange that I would overlook them, because now they almost jump off the pages at me.  Now I see them as absolutely essential to the story.  Maybe I just wasn't ready to see them before.  Maybe it was easier to overlook them.  But not anymore.


To aid Much Afraid on her difficult and perilous journey to the high places, the Shepherd gives her two traveling companions.  Two "friends" who will stay by her side, helping her over the difficult paths, guiding her the whole way.  When they first hold out their hands to her, Much Afraid is reluctant to embrace them.  And who could blame her?  Why would anyone embrace companions named Sorrow and Suffering?  And yet without these two, Much Afraid would never have made it to the High Places.



Could it be that sorrow and suffering are actually an essential part of true spiritual transformation?  A vital part of God's plan for all those who desire to grow deeper in their faith, closer to God's heart?  I think most of us who are on this journey of faith would say that we have grown during our times of pain, suffering and sorrow.  But embrace suffering?  Hold out our hand to sorrow?  That requires more than our reluctant acceptance of what we cannot change.  It requires our open hand to God -- our open, outstretched hand to the One Who desires to give us the best of gifts -- gifts that can never be taken away from us. It is truly a paradox -- the best gifts, the deeper growth, the most profound positive changes, come from the most difficult of circumstances in our lives.



I readily admit that I am not eager to experience more sorrow and suffering.  But I AM eager to know more of God's heart.  And I desperately want to stay in the place where I am closest to Him, where I am most dependent upon Him,  and where He has my complete and full attention.  Whether that is through my own sorrow and suffering, or as I enter into the sorrow and suffering of others, I KNOW God's Presence is there.