There are wounds that never heal, at least not completely. These wounds linger and act up when we are least expecting them. No one wants these wounds – physical, spiritual, emotional, or mental – to affect their behavior, but they do. Sometimes those effects are without the knowledge of the sufferer. Subtle things that others may notice. A small silence or longing look when a particular topic comes up.

Most of the unhealed wounds inside of people come unheeded and unexpected. Triggered by situations that cannot be anticipated. Often the wounds are so unique to the individual that no one else can truly understand the pain the sufferer is feeling. There are many such wounds:

• Death of a child;
• Cancer;
• Infertility;
• Diagnosis of self or loved one with a rare incurable disease;
• Side-effects of a disease;
• Loss of a beloved job; and,
• many, many more that I can’t even begin to list.

So many of those around us can’t relate to these things at all. We feel abandoned and alone. People give us unwelcome advice or approach with unwelcome questions. No one seems to be able to respond appropriately to us. There is a disconnect. Perhaps the disconnect is a defense mechanism. Often, those suffering from these wounds lash out at first and wish they could undo that because, maybe, just maybe, that person would be a worthwhile friend – but the hurt and abandonment when the novelty wears off for that person is like ripping away at that wound over and over again. This may be a way to shield ourselves from feeling all of that pain. Empathy is very, very hard for the majority of us when we have no frame of reference. But, there is someone who does empathize and know our pain.

Imagine taking on all the pain and mistakes of the world. That is what Christ did for all of us when He took up the Cross. He did choose the path He took. He even doubted the wisdom of His choice in Gethsemane. Who wouldn’t? He prayed that “this cup pass from me.” (Mat 26:39). We all want to avoid the pain. But our salvation would not have been bought without His choice to continue.

We don’t always choose our paths. Sometimes our paths choose us. The best explanation I am aware of is one I read in one of Madeleine L’Engle’s books. She described life as a type of poem – a sonnet – within which we get to write whatever we want provided we follow the structural rules. This is how free will and destiny are entwined. Just as Jonah could not escape the whale, and Isaiah had to prophesy, we are called to do what we must. We can choose to make the journey harder than it has to be, or we can choose to try and have faith. And, of course, there is the story of Job who suffered to prove that man could remain faithful in the direst of circumstances. (Yes, I know he ultimately did rail against God, but Job never stopped believing in God.)

Now, do not mistake my saying “have faith” for forgetting the pain of all of the unhealed wounds. It isn’t like that. Faith sometimes is nothing more than knowing God knows your pain, and cries with you because you are His child and He loves you. Just as any parent knows that you cannot protect a child from all the pain in this world, God knows that for us to grow we may have to experience things that He would rather we didn’t – but without the suffering we would learn nothing.

These are not words I particularly want to hear. I suffer from maladies that are painful on a soul level and can be very isolating. There are days I can do little more than move forward. Most people around me never know this. They never see the pain of the restrictions surrounding my life due to circumstances beyond my control that only a tiny percentage of the population deal with. I just keep moving forward knowing life, no matter how hard, is worth living. Sometimes that is a very difficult thing to say or believe.

Some issues I have dealt with since I can remember – whether I was diagnosed or not. Some of them were diagnosed or came later. Diagnosis didn’t always make it better or easier, but it often provided some comfort that there was a path to take. Some wounds are new and very raw. Each of them can cause me to pity myself. Really, really pity myself. Then, I pick up the story of Job or even the Gospel. How can I even compare my problems with that of Job or Jesus? For that matter, for the suffering of many in either the Old or New Testament.

I also know I have a lot to be thankful for. A wonderful husband, home, and dog. Loving family that truly care what happens to me. A tolerable, convenient job – even if it isn’t too exciting or stimulating. I know too many people without even this. I have a wonderful group of friends who stood by me in some very dark times. Times when I was accused of losing my faith by those who don’t understand how complex faith really is. They mistook yelling, “Why me?” – or reacting in prayer as an adolescent acts towards a parent – as loss of faith. It is anything but that.

I know there are many who disagree with me about the idea that our faith must be constantly reexamined and that it is perfectly ok to yell at God in prayer as we are His children. (I have never met a healthy adolescent that always thought his or her parents were right! I know I certainly wasn’t, and I was considered not very rebellious.) It is ok to rail against your circumstances and ask God “why me?”

Often, the better question is “why not me?” Why should I be spared the pain that another is feeling. How is it that I am lucky enough to be living in a reasonably safe environment. That I have sufficient money and resources to meet and exceed my basic needs when many do not. Yes, dealing with food allergies is very expensive, but there are those with the same needs that cannot afford a decent diet due to the expense. Why am I able to work when others cannot? These are questions we are often too afraid to explore – much to our own detriment.

Think about those around you that you have some inkling what is not right in their life, but you don’t think about it. It could be the couple you know dealing with infertility, a friend diagnosed with breast cancer, a co-worker who has a family member die of an exceedingly rare disease, the man or woman who has not been able to find a job and has fallen prey to predatory lenders. Do a Google search on that problem. Read the facts, look at the blogosphere. Do not comment on someone’s blog if you are going to offer “pat” advice or admonition! You are doing research to better understand another viewpoint!

Once you have read up on that issue. The financial burdens, the social burdens, even the spiritual burdens, put yourself in the person whose problem you selected shoes. Imagine the frustration of getting advice like “always pay yourself first” when the bank has a lien on your home. Or, “just adopt” without realizing the invasiveness, expense, and complexity of modern adoption. Or, “it was meant to be” when someone had died of a disease affecting less than 1% of the population, making a cure expensive and without profit.

Now think what it would feel like to have that unhealed wound unwittingly irritated constantly by those around you. Doesn’t feel so good, does it? Just as the sufferer must rely on faith in God, those around him or her should learn the importance of empathy, of not looking at someone else’s issues and choices as affecting one’s own.  Actually, all of us need to learn and relearn this lesson over and over again.  I know I do.

Now, really, think about the idea of how you would want to be treated in a similar circumstance. You may never understand the completeness of the wound that person is suffering, but you can learn to “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.”

This isn’t so easy or comfortable, is it?