Unfathomable

It is no secret that I work with broken, hurting people. I have the pleasure, privilege, joy, and sometimes burden of seeing people at their lowest points in life. I see them cry and beg for the hurting to stop. I hear their stories of pain and sorrow. I hurt with them, encourage them to keep going one day at a time, lend them my hope when they have none, and sometimes, I see them daily to be sure they are still making it through the storm. I offer them hope, admire their courage, and reflect on their pain. They teach me and shape me in ways that nothing else could. And, in doing all of this, I have heard horrific tales of the depravity of humanity. I have heard things that most people would not believe even if I shared. I have heard of so many and such varied atrocities that by now, sadly, nothing shocks me anymore. I have met murderers, rapists, addicts, prostitutes, abusers, orphans, widows, widowers, and survivors. And I have found one thing in common among all of them: pain. It seems that the one thing common to all individuals, whether the victimized or the perpetrator, is suffering. No one gets out of this life unscathed by the bitterness of a sinful, broken world.
And this has gotten me thinking about the pain that we experience in our lives. Recently, an acquaintance of mine got engaged. Seeing her smiling face, I couldn't help but think that 2 or 3 years from now, she will no longer be smiling innocently and excitedly but will be wondering why marriage is so hard and so painful. (Please do not misunderstand me- marriage is phenomenal and a wonderful blessing; it also happens to be painful, as all things are). I hate that I have become so cynical. I wonder if there would have been any way for me to avoid that given the nature of my work. I remember the days of innocence when I believed the best about people and thought that truly horrific things didn't really happen.
This week, I experienced two separate things that caused me to face once again the depth of suffering in the world. I heard a story of suffering that is unfathomably horrific even to me, the one who carries the tales of horror told by so many in this life. And, I watched a video about the body language of dogs in which I observed an abused dog cower in the corner, yelping, shaking, and trying to hide when a woman walked toward her, hand raised, yelling in a deep voice, "You bad dog" to assess whether this dog had been abused or not. I am finding more and more similarities in relationships with people and relationships with dogs.
Traumatized people cower in their relationships. The wrong word, action, or situation, even when entered into innocently, can cause the greatest fear. Dogs respond in the same ways. They quantify for me on a tangible basis all of the things I experience with my clients but cannot fully quantify.
Both of these experiences this week left me questioning, "How can someone do that?" How can another human knowingly and willfully abuse a child? How can an individual hit a dog? How can someone scream at a dog or continue to approach a dog in an angry way when that dog is cowering in a corner, clearly terrified? What makes these things possible. I know all of the intellectual answers to these questions: lack of education and awareness, unhealed wounds of their own, sin. Yet, even knowing these answers, I continue to struggle to comprehend and accept in my mind that these realities occur.
I have always been an extreme thinker. My closest confidantes often remind me that I am, once again, thinking in extremes and must seek the middle ground. When I hear these stories of pain and horror, I find myself so amazed at the resiliency of the beings with whom I share my world. I think in the extremes: these things are unforgivable, these people should be punished, there's no way healing can occur. And yet, then I met the perpetrators. I see the pain in their own lives. I see them suffering and sorrowful. I experience the joy of seeing people heal. I watch people survive even in the most traumatic of circumstances. I see them fight for life. I see dogs learn to trust again. I see them come to life and release the fear. And it shows me in mighty ways the courage of all of these broken beings. It reminds me of the reason why I continue to pursue the fight against the darkness. And it also reminds me of the reason that God continues to allow sin and bitterness in our world. Without the darkness, we'd never see light. I am so thankful for the light of Christ because I have seen the darkness that exists outside of Him.

I praise my God who has made me and healed me and continues to sanctify me. I praise Him that I don't have to be the one to execute justice or heal lives because He does and He will. I cannot wait for the day when we will live in His fullness. For now, I will read Psalm 73 often and praise Him for the light that shines more brightly because it is held against the darkness of our sinful world.