Suffering is inevitable; our response to it isn’t

In May of this year, a young Dutch woman, Zoraya ter Beek, was allowed medical supervision to end her life. Medically assisted suicide is hardly a new thing. What’s garnered the attention in this case is that at 29 years old, Miss ter Beek was physically healthy, attractive and fit. She desired suicide as an end to her years’ long struggle with autism, depression and a personality disorder. 

Listening a few months ago to the riveting reporting on this story, to say my blood boiled would be an overstatement – but it definitely entertained a healthy simmer. I’ve struggled personally with very serious mental illness in the past, even at times requiring hospitalisation. Thinking back on my therapist-patient relationships, the idea that a young person, wrestling in a pit of despair, would be met not with a compassionate, hopeful attitude toward progress, but with a defeatist, agreeable consent to the best course of treatment being death, is unfathomable. I consider now how blessed I am, that the prevailing winds of society weren’t then blowing in this present nihilistic breeze. 

Taking the easy way out

This got me pondering the precarious relationship Western society has developed with suffering. Take the ‘wonder drug’ Ozempic, for instance, or any of its differently named but similarly abled counterparts. Celebrities left and right are showing up seemingly overnight gaunt, svelte, skin slightly sagging, due to drastic weight loss from the fast-acting, insulin-affecting drug. Forget counting carbs, managing calories and working up bench presses. You too can rock Kim Kardashian’s bracelet-sized waistline with only the push of a syringe! 

People who like to exercise live by the timeless mantra, “no pain, no gain”. It takes work…discipline. When I wake up a few days into a week of early morning walks and athletic workouts, my muscles are clearly suffering. The apostle Paul himself spoke highly of the body’s physical training. Life is like a contact sport; inherent are hard times and challenges. Is it possible to reap lasting benefits by taking the easy way out?

For the 80th anniversary of the Second World War’s D-Day, my kids and I watched old, colourised footage of troops descending onto the beaches of Normandy. Troops trained for months to plunge into what was quite possibly certain death to win back the freedom of Western Europe and the world. It still gives me chills to think the average age of those soldiers was 19! How willing would the current generation of young people, some living thousands of miles from Hitler’s threat, be to suffer certain death for a seemingly far removed good? Yet, for this, we call them ‘The Greatest Generation’. I’m sure we’d all agree, our grandparents and great-grandparents were just made differently. Suffering was much more of an accepted part of society. The average life span was shorter; people succumbed more quickly to illness and disease. Going back further through history: wars, famines, pestilence, poverty, maternal and infant mortality rates would have meant most people had a much more relatable proximity to suffering.

Who are we suffering for?

Today it’s almost as if the tables are turned. While our proximity to unavoidable, catastrophic suffering is further away, I wonder if our willingness to accept more avoidable measures of suffering has grown nearer. How likely are we to put up with the pain and discomfort that comes with hangovers after nights out clubbing, or further-off consequences from poor health practices, like cirrhosis and lung cancer? How many do we know who engage in unhealthy sexual relationships, enduring the suffering of heartbreak, emotional instability or potential STIs in exchange for the fleeting fix of feeling wanted or satisfied sexual desire? Has our society grown to believe the seemingly ‘small’ amount of suffering a baby in the womb might experience by abortion might be preferable to the lifelong self-sacrificial aspect of child rearing into the future for women? The Greatest Generation was willing to suffer for others. Today, if we are willing to suffer for anyone, more than likely it’s for the benefit of ourselves, quite possibly to others’ detriment. 

Life is like a contact sport; inherent are hard times and challenges. Is it possible to reap lasting benefits by taking the easy way out?

Zoraya ter Beek felt that she could not endure suffering and mental anguish any longer, and in her secularised Dutch world, lacking in Christian faith and the sanctity of life purely for the obedience of living’s sake, the medical professionals agreed. In our Christian lives, are we more like them or the soldiers of D-Day, who chose to embrace the aspect of life that is inherent suffering, seen through to its crushing end? Will we be like Jesus, who for the joy set before him, endured the cross (Hebrews 12:2)? Will endurance, perseverance, personal sacrifice, strength of character, allowing our own struggles to comfort and uplift others in their guaranteed experience of suffering to come, colour our lives? 

Recently I had one of those moments when a portion of scripture jumped out at me that I hadn’t noticed before. Paul says in Colossians 1:24 “I am glad when I suffer for you in my body, for I am participating in the sufferings of Christ that continue for his body, the church” (NLT). Reading it, I asked myself this question: How could God be good and sin be true if the fallen world did not include suffering? What would Jesus have come to redeem us from if all was right with the world and why would he need to return? Not only does God allow human suffering, in Christ-like fashion, he set aside the greatest portion of it for himself. Jesus willingly endured the ultimate suffering for us. When we suffer as believers, just maybe, we are invited into a more intimate experience of fellowship with him.