Surprised by Suffering?

By Jason Carter, Equatorial Guinea 

In the States, we are often surprised by suffering. We think that suffering isn’t supposed to happen, and everything should turn out okay, so we think there must be solutions to our suffering. In Africa, people would be surprised if suffering didn’t occur. “Nobody is in the hospital? What's going on here?” I remember times when not one of the 1800 members of my home church in Illinois were in the hospital. That would never happen in Equatorial Guinea.

Yet here I am, still being surprised by the suffering that we and our friends face. I am surprised when 20-year-old Mateo returns from a youth retreat feeling fine and then proceeds to spend three weeks in bed, staying in a hospital where four people die in one week from the same illness he has. It is a tropical affliction. Nobody knows the cause. How can this be? His calf and foot are enlarged and the doctors have no answer as to why this sort of thing happens. It is simply called an abscess. The treatment seems, to any untrained medical mind, like something out of the medieval ages: they will slice open his leg to draw the puss out and hope that heals him.

I read in 1 Peter that we shouldn’t be surprised at the painful trials of suffering, yet I confess it is hard not to be surprised at so much suffering. I find this book counter-intuitive for me. Does the fact that suffering sneaks up on me, surprises me and catches me off guard tell me how American I really am? Does it tell me how unexposed to suffering my life has been? Yes, there are definitely Americans who have seen plenty of suffering, folks with whom I wouldn’t want to change places. But it sure seems that Africans have far more suffering.

Here in Equatorial Guinea, when somebody dies, you can smell death at the funeral, and nobody says the deceased looks beautiful. No way! The deceased person actually looks . . . well, dead. There is no attempt to cover up the fact by make-up or an expensive coffin. The family usually has to dig the grave. It’s the family who probably nailed some boards together to make the coffin. At the funeral you see the finality and hear the sound of dirt being piled upon the wooden box. Africans aren’t surprised by suffering. It doesn’t sneak up on them. It’s their traveling companion in the journey of life.

This attitude should actually teach me a great deal, if it’s a lesson I am willing to learn. But it’s a lot easier to visit the hospital as a pastor-missionary than to live with uncertainty in my own life. As my wife, Lisa, and I ponder our return to the States and hope to identify what is causing her health issues, it’s a difficult time. Not knowing is tough. To live in the information age without adequate information is exasperating. And yet Peter says “Do not be surprised at the painful trial you are suffering . . . but rejoice.” That is, for lack of a better term, just plain weird. Sometimes it seems that the Bible is speaking Fang (my African language) to me. I can barely make out what is going on, and pretty soon I find myself not really trying, or wanting, to understand.

Suffering is never part of the plan. Or rather, it is never part of our plan. Yet Exodus 20:21 says “Moses approached the thick darkness where God was. I don’t like the fact that God sometimes resides in thick darkness. Just as a passenger would rather have a storm-tested sailor leading a voyage on the rough seas, I’m trusting that God is using the difficulties and testings of Africa to deepen my own spiritual anchors. Although it is easier said than done, I want to lean into these experiences so I have a more “storm-tested” life. I want to navigate from the stern of the ship with more perspective and depth. That’s the destination and my prayer. One day I hope to get there.

> Times of Trouble