I begin to understand the role of suffering

The two most prominent accusations I've heard against the Christian faith are these: Christians are hypocrites, and how could a loving God allow suffering. We already addressed the hypocrisy allegation. I agree: Christians are hypocrites, likely even more so than others because we measure ourselves and are measured by others against complete perfection—God. We can only fall short in that comparison. On top of that, we not only fail to jump that unreachable hurdle but many reachable ones as well. 

I also completely understand the suffering accusation, but I think I have an answer (at least one that satisfies me). This answer allows me as a Christian to view—and to experience—suffering as something difficult, but at the same time as something that is consistent with the God I believe in and which does not diminish his love for me and for you.

Christians believe that in the metaphysical realm of God there is no suffering. Or, more specifically, there is no death. Death is the ultimate reminder of suffering in the Christian world view. I think almost everyone would agree with that. From the moment we're born, we're moving toward the day we die. Most fortunately, as newborns we're not aware of this, and somehow miraculously our parents aren't either (if they were, there would be a lot fewer children. . . ).

Biologically speaking, of course, the process of decay doesn't start until a little later. People reach their athletic peak somewhere in their twenties or early thirties. And while it's true that overachieving "athletic" abilities don't really mean much for the majority of people, it shows that the "aging" of our bodies starts long before it becomes noticeable for most of us. 

It's hard to say with any certainty, but we humans are likely alone in this anticipation of the end of our lives, or—as Christians and followers of many other religions would say—our earthly lives. I'm not sure animals are surprised by their weakening bodies as they age, but I doubt they expect it. I also doubt they consider that it will eventually lead to death—until maybe the inevitable is the only possible form of reality. We are different. Although humans are living longer than ever before in many parts of the world, the fear of dying is not diminished. In fact, it actually might be increasing, at least in the form of worry about material, mental, and physical well-being in old age.

But regardless, from the moment we are born, a clock starts ticking. This clock might run for just a few hours or a few years, but it will likely continue for 70 or 80 years. The closer we get to the clock running out, the less enabled we'll become—at least physically, probably in the form of disease. From any perspective, this is an outline of suffering. And while we as a species have become very good at battling the many life-threatening diseases that occur between the time we were born and the time we die, we always eventually fail.

There is also death brought on suddenly through accident or violence, but it is still suffering, certainly for those who are left behind. This, in fact, may cause a more profound and deep suffering.

Can all suffering in life be traced back to the fact that we eventually die?

To answer that, let's look at why Christians believe humans die. We believe there was at one point a state that was devoid of decay—no aging, and certainly no death. In the Christian understanding, this state is what we'll return to after death, where there will be no more death and no more suffering. 

According to Christian belief, the reason for the loss of this first state of non-decay is, essentially, a willful break from the union between humans and God. This is what Christians call "sin"—or more precisely, "original sin": a turning away from a union between the maker and his creation (humans and the environment they lived in) by the creation's lack of trust in the creator's good intentions. This event, described in the Bible story of the Garden of Eden (Christians differ on whether this description is metaphorical or literal), set everything else into motion: disease, death, birth (wonderful but also painful), and laborious survival. God offered a return to the state of non-decay to anyone who was able to consistently maintain that original union based on complete trust and obedience to a set of ethical and religious rules, but according to the Bible and also to common sense, no one was able to succeed in the midst of a life filled with suffering and brokenness. Instead, Jesus—God in human form—publicly and demonstrably took on suffering by allowing himself to be tortured to death and then return to life a few days later, promising anyone who would put their trust in him a return into the family of God. This represents a radical turning point: Because the power of death was broken by Jesus' coming back to life, the power of suffering has symbolically—and actually in the life after death that Christians believe in—been broken. This in turn makes forgiveness (love) stronger than failure (sin). So while the old system of displaying trust in God was by not failing to obey rules, now it is open to forgiveness and a slate that is continuously being wiped clean. This in turn makes it possible to live in an eternal union with God.

Phew!

You may have been confused, amused, or simply frustrated when you read this. I feel it's important to tell you all this, though, to show you how much the concept of suffering really is at the center of the Christian faith. It's not the ultimate answer. In fact, it's not an answer at all, but it is a reality. The ultimate expression of suffering is death and the path toward it. Other forms of suffering that are not immediately related to death in the Christian understanding are related to it in the sense that they have the same root cause: a willful and continued turning away from union with God. To put it in a more commonly used term: selfishness, which in turn underlies virtually every kind of conflict. This holds true for the original separation from God, the moment that disease and death was introduced, as well as ongoing acts of selfishness that might victimize others.

All this being said, the charge that widespread suffering negates a loving God is all too real and understandable. And rather than hitting people who are suffering with a barrage of the religious-philosophical framework above, there are two primary responses that Christians have to suffering: love and trust in God.

This may not sound too profound, but in practice it's very powerful. Elsewhere we talked about the church. Not the church that is solely represented by its spiritual leader, the pastor or priest, but the church that is made up of its members. If there are specific responses to suffering, such as those that can be alleviated with material help, they'll generously help. If they don't have specific answers—as no one does—when a family member of someone inside or outside the church suffers, they often say nothing and instead bring food, go shopping, mow the lawn, walk the dog, or simply sit with the person who is in emotional or physical pain. Most Christians believe there is no specific answer to the question "Why me?" (as asked by the ones who are suffering), so they don't try to answer it, responding instead with love and service. (In case your experience in that category is different, please let me just say this again, with a request for forgiveness: Christians are far from perfect!)

The second primary response, "trust in God," might not necessarily be wise to share with a person who is directly in the midst of great suffering. Still, as Christians we believe it's true: While God is not responsible for suffering, he's able to turn the suffering into something good. 

Let me explain this with a personal example: I have multiple sclerosis (MS), a degenerative neurological condition with no cure. I've had it for many years, and though I'm still mobile and able to work, there are plenty of things that make me suffer: periodic loss of vision and taste, numbness in certain parts of my body and aches and pains in others parts (or sometimes and weirdly the same parts), incontinence, irritability, extreme fatigue, brain fog, and much more. I don't list these things to ask for sympathy, but to make you understand how I'm able to see my disease as something that has enriched my life in many other areas. The most important of these is a compassion toward other people who are suffering. I would not want to live my life without this hard-won compassion, and I would not have this without MS. Does this mean I welcome being sick? I don't really know how to answer that, especially since it's a very theoretical question. But I celebrate what it has done to me in a positive sense.

This clearly is a unique story because it specifically relates to me, but it's representative because this is what Christians believe God is doing through and because of suffering. This is how we trust God in relation to suffering.