Two Roads Diverged ~ Amy D. Polson

I am now entering my third week of recovery. I would like to say my heart and soul are healing as quickly as my incision. While I do not uphold the theological idea of dichotomizing the body and the spirit, grief is one of those seasons when faith and suffering seem to diverge. My physical body and my grief feel like enemies to my faith. There is no delicate way to say this . . . I am experiencing menopause and all the fruits that come with it – hot flashes, mood swings, uncontrollable crying, irritability, etc. This in itself is difficult to accept at the age of only thirty-seven. But the grief, ah the grief. It’s the road we would all like to avoid, and none would willingly choose. We can grieve so many things – loss of love, loss of employment, loss of friendship, loss of a treasured possession, loss of a hope or dream, loss of a loved one, and even loss of self. It is this last loss that devours me from the inside out. It is fixed in my mind – I am not the same person. Parts of me have been cut away; parts we (as a society) have often used to define a person. Today I reached a point of hating my body and, in doing so, found another broken place inside of me. And I asked myself, “What do I do with this?” As I meditated on this, or rather wallowed in it, I remembered reading James A. Harnish’s book Strength for the Broken Places. There is a chapter on suffering. The ‘two roads diverged’ represent how Jesus faced suffering as opposed to how our human flesh faces suffering. If we look closely at the gospels, particularly the book of Mark, it is plain to see the difference. Jesus embraced His suffering; He chose it, even giving thanks for His broken body and spilt blood. It is so contrary a reaction to suffering, that Peter rebukes Jesus! Peter’s mind, like our own, was set on earthly things. My mind is set on earthly things, filled with all my earthly hopes and dreams for ME. I am Peter. I am looking for God to remove the suffering, unable to recognize that God has already redeemed all human suffering by sharing in it. Harnish puts it this way, “The way of the cross makes sense when we discover that when we try to save our life - when we put all our energy into protecting our own prerogatives, defending our own self-interest, denying our brokenness and pain – we lose it. It’s only when we lose out lives in something larger than our own self-interest, when we throw our lives into something like the life of Christ, when we open ourselves to our own suffering and the suffering of others, that we find life, life than can never be put to death.” Is it easy? Am I already there? No. Am I willing to open myself to the life Christ has planned for me? Am I willing to acknowledge my need to embrace this suffering, and the redemption that it will bring? I’d like to say, “Yes!” I’d like to find the strength in Christ to choose the road less traveled. We are told to take up our cross daily and follow him. Do I feel like? No. Do I want to be obedient to God? Yes. Mother Teresa said, “Before crosses used to frighten me – I used to get goosebumps at the thought of sufferings – but now I embrace suffering even before it actually comes, and like this Jesus and I live in love.”