Pottery from Seagrove, NC
One thing I love about North Carolina is the tiny town of Seagrove, home to more than 100 potters, some of whom still use native clay to create their hand-thrown pots, mugs, vases, and other works of art. The piece above was given to me last week by a thoughtful parishioner, a gift that conveyed grace at a time when I most needed it. It is a lovely and fragile piece of art formed from the dust and clay of the earth in much the same way that God the Divine Potter shaped each of us from the ground.
In my last post, I talked about some things that made last week so difficult on an emotional/spiritual level, but I didn't mention the toll that stress takes on me physically. Like many other people, I suffer from constant pain, mostly in my back, although it does strike elsewhere at times. Chronic pain is an unwelcome reminder that I am, as a hymn not written by Charles Wesley says, one of the "frail children of dust and feeble as frail."
John Wesley lived to be almost 88 years of age, and he suffered throughout his life from various common ailments, and as mentioned earlier, he was concerned with people's physical as well as spiritual health. Not surprisingly, he believed that pain and suffering are part of the fallen order of the world, not part of God's good, original plan for creation. In his sermon called "On the Fall of Man," he muses about the effects of aging upon the body, pointing out that even from our birth, we are traveling towards death, reminding us that we are dust and to dust we shall return.
Wrinkles show the proportion of the fluids to be lessened, as does also the dryness of the skin, through a diminution of the blood and juices, which before moistened and kept it smooth and soft. The extremities of the body grow cold, not only as they are remote from the centre of motion, but as the smaller vessels are filled up, and can no longer admit the circulating fluid...; in consequence of which, death naturally ensues. Thus are the seeds of death sown in our very nature! Thus from the very hour when we first appear on the stage of life, we are travelling toward death: We are preparing, whether we will or no, to return to the dust from whence we came!
In the 21st century, we hold youth up as an ideal and celebrate the vigor of the healthy, decrying the appearance of wrinkles and the inevitable slowing down of our bodies that comes with age. When confronted by pain, especially chronic pain, we often handle it poorly because we want to alleviate it and are frustrated when this isn't possible. This makes us uncomfortable when talking to someone who isn't going to "get well" and sometimes doesn't seem to even get much better at all. There are times, like right now, that I can barely stand to be touched because my nerve endings are on high alert, and the slightest movement sends another urgent and unwelcome message to my muscles, which immediately tighten and even begin to go into spasms. Maybe I should get a copy of Wesley's electrical device for use on my back and arm, after all!
In my last post, I talked about some things that made last week so difficult on an emotional/spiritual level, but I didn't mention the toll that stress takes on me physically. Like many other people, I suffer from constant pain, mostly in my back, although it does strike elsewhere at times. Chronic pain is an unwelcome reminder that I am, as a hymn not written by Charles Wesley says, one of the "frail children of dust and feeble as frail."
John Wesley lived to be almost 88 years of age, and he suffered throughout his life from various common ailments, and as mentioned earlier, he was concerned with people's physical as well as spiritual health. Not surprisingly, he believed that pain and suffering are part of the fallen order of the world, not part of God's good, original plan for creation. In his sermon called "On the Fall of Man," he muses about the effects of aging upon the body, pointing out that even from our birth, we are traveling towards death, reminding us that we are dust and to dust we shall return.
Wrinkles show the proportion of the fluids to be lessened, as does also the dryness of the skin, through a diminution of the blood and juices, which before moistened and kept it smooth and soft. The extremities of the body grow cold, not only as they are remote from the centre of motion, but as the smaller vessels are filled up, and can no longer admit the circulating fluid...; in consequence of which, death naturally ensues. Thus are the seeds of death sown in our very nature! Thus from the very hour when we first appear on the stage of life, we are travelling toward death: We are preparing, whether we will or no, to return to the dust from whence we came!
In the 21st century, we hold youth up as an ideal and celebrate the vigor of the healthy, decrying the appearance of wrinkles and the inevitable slowing down of our bodies that comes with age. When confronted by pain, especially chronic pain, we often handle it poorly because we want to alleviate it and are frustrated when this isn't possible. This makes us uncomfortable when talking to someone who isn't going to "get well" and sometimes doesn't seem to even get much better at all. There are times, like right now, that I can barely stand to be touched because my nerve endings are on high alert, and the slightest movement sends another urgent and unwelcome message to my muscles, which immediately tighten and even begin to go into spasms. Maybe I should get a copy of Wesley's electrical device for use on my back and arm, after all!
I tell you this, not because I'm looking for sympathy but to promote conversation and understanding about how to be present with another person in her/his pain without feeling that you have to try to fix it but also without ignoring or glossing over it. Saying that you are sorry and offering to help conveys concern, and there is a time and place for gentle humor, but please don't ever tell anyone that they are too young to be sick or in pain. That minimizes the very real agony that can flare up without warning in a body prone to certain conditions and belittles the all-too-real experience that cares nothing for your age or circumstance.
On behalf of myself and others with chronic pain, we need you to understand that there are times when the pain is so all-consuming that it literally hurts to breathe, let alone hug or shake hands, and please don't ever punch me or anyone else in the shoulder or on the back. I don't try to make a big deal out of my condition, but I need you to respect that I have good reason for putting up an invisible fence between me and you, and I need you to help by honoring that and not taking it as a personal affront if I'm not doling out hugs.
Will I die from the various pains and problems I am enduring? Unlikely, but neither am I going to escape them. Given that reality, can I somehow use the experience of discomfort and persistent aches to draw me closer to God and to others? Certainly. Suffering is part of the human experience in the time that lies between life lived in the Garden of Eden and the life yet to come, and I believe that the empathy gained from my own is a gift to be poured out as I serve other people who are dealing with their own sickness and ill health. I do not believe that God is in the business of handing out cancer or diabetes or fibromyalgia or migraines or any other debilitating condition, but I do know that God can work in and through all the circumstances of life. And as John Wesley said at least twice as he lay dying, "The best of all is, God is with us," even, maybe especially, when we are at our weakest and most vulnerable.
But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. (2 Corinthians 12: 9)
No comments:
Post a Comment