We each have a thirst for meaning, for the transcendent. We want to know that what we do matters, or that it can. We have an ingrained desire to be a part of something that is bigger than us. We want better for our children than we have had ourselves. We despair over the wars of the world. We question and doubt when tragedy is near to us. But we don't want to believe that this is the final say. We don't want to believe that it ends here. In our darkest parts, we ache for renewal, for rebirth. If a desire for good wasn't woven into the fabric of who we are, we could call all as dark and give up. But something nags at us, something tugs at the strings of our heart and soul, saying, "Just hang in there a little bit longer, trust me." This is why suffering can be one of our greatest teachers. Suffering takes all of our previous schemas and wrecks them, but if we are willing to see it this way, takes us beyond them. In suffering, we cry out for deliverance, we seek answers beyond what we know. We don't desire suffering, nor should we, but we must learn to not dismiss it. We must learn to not cover it up or deny it. What is my suffering trying to say to me right now? Where is my current way of viewing things or current goals falling short?
Being open to learning from suffering is a grace. And when I've suffered, and then felt the renewal, my eyes are opened to a new life around me. I see with new lenses. Suffering paired with grace has worked its mystery in me. And now I can even seek the learning, the new life, before the suffering. My defenses towards grace have lessened.
Whether it's disenchantment with the world at large, or exhaustion at the battles of our own hearts and minds, we can become downtrodden and burdened. But our failures, our hardships, can become our greatest teachers. We don't need to fear the dark parts of ourselves, they are but gateways to deeper grace. They open us up towards the transcendent, to a stance more dependent on grace, on mystery.
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