Jul 7 2019 Romans 5: 1-11

[W]e also boast in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us.
Again with the suffering. It’s interesting. I think we see or gravitate to the portions of scripture that resonate where we are when we read it The psalm today talked about God’s might and power, about our righteous fear of God, of worship, gratitude and praise. The Gospel is a pithy parable of the wedding banquet. On another day, any one of those themes would have bene where I gravitate, but this morning, it’s suffering.

There is a lot of suffering in my world now. As I sit in Manhattan, for the first time away in years, there’s a little distance between me and my personal drama; my biggest challenge is to finish this up in time to get off to Trinity for church. So maybe I’ve moved on to the endurance. Distance from suffering, either time or space, helps me realize that I can truly endure. In fact, what’s the option?

But while I have a little distance, my sick love one doesn’t. They have distance from us, as they’re visiting family. But the family doesn’t believe they’re sick The first night away, our loved one texted us that it was horrible but they’d stay. That was hard for us, since we hadn’t actually left. Our loved one also called at midnight, and didn’t leave a message. Did we need to do something about that?

With their current ability to communicate cogently, I’ve no idea what really was at issue. Maybe nothing more than fear of the unfamiliar. Or for as testy as they’ve been at our home, it wasn’t so bad. Or maybe… Again, we have no idea. Our hope is that they’re reconnecting with family, their family is developing a greater sense of their challenges, and we’re all developing a wider network of care.

But regardless of the long-term benefit of this visit, it’s absolutely safe to say the suffering remains with our loved one. They cannot escape their own thoughts and senses, which have betrayed them. And with an incredible lack of insight, cannot even see that there’s any illness at all. It’s impossible to name, and impossible to escape. All they know is that something’s not the same, and nothing seems to make it better.

This morning, I will relish in my distance from suffering. I will be grateful for that distance that produces a sense of endurance. I will try to turn the corner on character. I will try to figure out how to hold on to that understanding when I physically return to my loved one, who continues to suffer. Finally, I will try to remember that while I have the luxury of escape, they do not. For as hard as this is for me, it’s harder for them and ever-present. I will try to be kind and patient, because this has to absolutely suck for them.

And me? I went to a store that sold nothing but dozens of kinds of rice pudding last night. Paul should have added something about rice pudding in his list. Suffering produces a desire for distance. Suffering creates the urgency for a vacation. Vacation gives you rice pudding.