Pain

I hate being in pain.  Candidly, I do not know many people who like the experience.  I walked out the front door of my apartment to stumble into the path of a man shuffling along in dirty scrubs.  He was clearly in pain.  His matted hair, dirty ill fitting clothes, and gait spoke of a hardship I could not even begin to appreciate.  As I stood in that brief instant side by side, I wonder if the angst and gap could be any greater than it was.  I was overwhelmed with a sense of not being able to do anything relevant to the events in his life.  I had no idea of the particulars.  Any response would have been insufficient, yet I felt I should do something.  In that moment in time, I looked away and rushed towards the subway, work, and an escape.
 
I wish I could say that in that moment I acted differently.  I wish I had, even in hindsight, an answer to the conundrum of responding to an overwhelming situation.  I wish I could change or even eliminate the pain in at least one life. 
 
I have no profound answers.  I do know that I have found myself going to God, raising an old question, asking and demanding answers.  To date, the conversation continues.  In the midst of unanswered questions, “God also says: ‘When the time's ripe, I answer you.  When victory's due, I help you.  I form you and use you to reconnect the people with me, to put the land in order, to resettle families on the ruined properties.”  (Isaiah 49.8) 
 
I find myself living with a pain that God has not chosen to take away, at least for now.  Death is a part of living.  Pain is a part of our existence.  Fear is a companion we know well.  For many it ends here.  Yet for others, because of you and me, they know compassion.  They understand mercy.  They find themselves part of a community.  We may not be able to erase pain, but we can make a difference.