I’ve heard it said that suffering is good for the soul, though I think some people take this idea to the extreme, incorporating it into their belief system that they then unleash on others. They point to great people in history like Winston Churchill, for instance, who once said, “We shall draw from the heart of suffering itself the means of inspiration and survival.” Does this mean we should wallow in pain? I don’t think so.
Common sense suggests that those suffering want relief, as Winston Churchill recognized when he also said, “If you’re going through hell, keep going.” I could not agree more. In many cases the first step to salvation is taking a moment to honestly consider whether the suffering is really as bad as it seems and then asking why. Once you know the why you can start thinking about how to fix it.
I’ve always believed suffering should be a temporary condition, but sometimes getting out is not as easy as it sounds. Churchill was at war with Germany. Not him personally but as the leader of Britain. He knew the way out of that particular hell was to defeat Germany, but as is always the case, the devil is in the details. Churchill didn’t do it alone – he had the people, outstanding strategists, determined soldiers, and the limitless industrial machine of the United States at his disposal. Personal hells are usually fought with slightly smaller arsenals.
There are times I feel I’ve waded into an ice-cold fast-flowing river. I’ve never crossed this river before but I’ve read as much as there is about wading rivers, I know exactly where I need to be on the other shore, and I’m an excellent swimmer. Besides, I see others crossing near me and many others who’ve already reached the other side.
The river soon seems much wider than I thought, but I’m determined. I feel like I’m doing things right, and I’m making good progress. But then my feet slip out from under me. The current catches me. I start pumping my legs and arms as fast and strong as I can, trying desperately to keep control. I hear someone on the far shore say, “Use whatever works for you,” and as I struggle to keep my head above water all I can think of at that moment is now would be a good time to throw me a rope.
The water tosses me like I’m nothing. Breathe! I remind myself, but just as I do, the rapids flip me over and I inhale water. I twist and come up coughing and gasping for air. “Help!” I scream.
Someone near me says, “Take my hand.” Though the grip is tentative, it’s enough to right me and, at last, I’m able to stand up and catch my breath. After all my floundering I’ve moved only a few feet towards my goal, but at least I’m safe for the moment though if I stay where I’m at I’ll either starve to death or succumb to the elements. I must move forward. If you’re in hell, keep going.
While I ponder the question of how, I see several other aspiring crossers swept away and I start to laugh not because it’s funny but because suddenly I can imagine pulling myself out on the far shore with my last ounce of strength only to have someone say, “You picked a bad to place to cross.”
I shake off the thought. I learned while writing my memoir, The Troubles, how destructive it is to presume what others are thinking. I was reminded, too, that while the right words can be helpful, actions are what count the most, and the most powerful actions are those that help people help themselves. Now that I’ve had a taste of what the river is like, I feel my confidence grow and I’m ready to plunge back into the rapids, mindful of the difference a simple but tangible act can make. I have no rope, but if someone else is helplessly caught in the current, I will offer my hand. It’s not much, but it may just be enough.
