Light Afflictions.

I suppose, we all do what we do for reasons only fathomable to ourselves. What is reasonable to one may sound completely illogical to another. To each his own.

Some people don’t understand why sportspeople do what they do. It is as if they are perversely attracted to pain. Medically speaking, endurance sports does cause the body to produce hormones similar to those produced when one is happy. Nonetheless, it was not only till recently I could put into words a resemblence of why I “enjoy” pain, too.

I mean, who in the right mind would want to or actually do a half Iron Man, right? A 1.9km swim, a 90km bike ride right before a 21.2km half-marathon just sounds… crazy. At the Aviva half Iron Man race supporting many of my friends who were participating in the full long-distance triathlon last week, I stood speechless.

Yet, I understood. Everyone has a different reason, but as I climbed the slopes for the biking relay under the hot, hot sun, I finally understood mine- to be stronger, not merely physically, but mentally, emotionally and spiritually as well. I want to be comfortable with pain, and learn to withstand, overcome, conquer it. A friend once shared with me, that the mission field isn’t easy, and physical training does play a part in developing endurance and perserverence. I realised, it’s true.

My fall on Faith last week was a milestone. My friends said it was the sporting equivalent of baptism, where one finally surrenders to the challenges, trials and sufferings of the sport. They used the word baptism. And it reminded me of the spiritual parallel- who said trusting and walking with God was ever easy? Do we not need to surrender to the afflictions and sufferings which come in our spiritual journeys, too?

I could never understand my grief in recollecting that period of depression and suffering in my past, especially since I know God had a purpose for it. I could never understand why I’m adverse to that sort of pain, and yet indulge in hobbies which to some, just smack of masochism- think endurance sports, and going on mission trips to developing countries.

But when I fell, when I was “baptized” into the sport, when I felt God’s peace about going for longer races in the future, I understood why.

I realised, that suffering is bearable, even desirable, when we know we have chosen it. We can grit our teeth up formidable slopes, bear the pain of burning legs, brush off battlescars when we know we have chosen this form of suffering, when we know it has a purpose to make one stronger, better, when we know it is temporal in contrast to the eternal qualities it builds in us.

In contrast, during our dark periods of depression, most of us do not understand why such suffering has befallen us. We feel helpless: God, why do you choose to inflict this pain on me? What have I done wrong? In the face of this kind of suffering, we feel we have lost control. We question God. One feels defeated, not victorious; one feels like a puppet, not a conqueror.

It then struck me, that the difference between one form of suffering and the other is simply this- our perception of being victims, and having the power to exercise choice.

I could not reconcile a good God with my suffering because I felt I did not choose this life or this depression. Have you felt that way before? Tormented and helpless, because we felt we had no part to play in our circumstance?

Pursuing dreams which cost us, which bring us pain in the process on the other hand, being a result of a choice, gives one a form of control and helps one to become a conqueror, a victor in the face of challenges. That suffering empowers, strengthens us. I learnt, that I enjoy the pain in training because it is a privilege to choose one’s suffering. Think about it- who but the blessed have the privilege to choose one’s suffering? I am not in hunger, or poverty, I am not sold to prostitution. I face difficulties and trials at work in the hospital, on the training ground, during mission trips, but I am empowered to know that I have chosen this, that it is only for a little while in the light of an eternal pilgrimage. It is like the athlete who continues to go faster even though his legs are burning, burning- because he knows that the short period of pain will go miles to improve his efficiency in the long-run.

In that choice of suffering, self-actualisation becomes a driving force, a means to build one’s character. Perhaps, hence why people pursue sports, adventure, careers, worthy causes, and dreams with such passion in spite of suffering ordeals. Great things come with great sacrifices, and we are willing to pay the price for a goal that has eternal or substantial value.

It was then that I learnt, that it is not the type of suffering that determines how we respond to it and our growth, but how we respond to our suffering that determines how much we grow.

There is a story in the bible I am fascinated by, about a man called Job (pronounced Jobe). He was a good man, but in a short time suffered great affliction-his family died, all this property was wiped out and his health was destroyed suddenly. He was a righteous man, but his agony was real and he railed against God and pleaded for justice, even as his friends rubbed salt into his wound by trying to convince him that he must have done some evil to deserve such punishment. I remember, during that period of depression years ago, I read that story over and over. I could relate to Job’s pain, his shame, his guilt, his suffering. In those circumstances, one feels like a forgotten victim.

After my fall last week, I realised, that perhaps, it is all a matter of perspective, and we can choose to be a victim or a victor in our sufferings.

To be victors, perhaps all we need is to own that choice, to acknowledge that we have chosen our sufferings, and do have control over it. We can’t control our cirmcumstances but we can control our response to it: Life is hard, but I have chosen to live, to keep living, and hence, I am a conqueror; Being mocked at for my values and belief in God is tragic, but I continue to choose believe in God because I trust Him-thus, my suffering becomes pursposeful, worthwhile; Races are tough, but I choose to keep training, and I persevere till the end, thus I am a winner, not a quitter. In this light, suffering becomes worthwhile, if not welcome, because something so transient strengthens us for an eternity.

The pain that comes along no longer becomes an enemy but a friend, a tool to sharpen and mould our characters. It is like in labour when the midwives often tell the women to make use of the contraction pangs by squeezing forcefully when the pain comes, so as to “push the pain away”. Pain becomes their friend, a tool which helps them achieve their purpose.

Can we view our sufferings that way, too?

That is what cycling and training for triathlons have been teaching me- to take ownership of my suffering, and to be less of a complaining, whiney girly girl. It honestly surprised me when so many of my guy friends hardly batted an eyelid (stark contrast to the reaction of my girlfriends) when they heard of my accident last week. Pick yourself up, it’s no big deal, was their reply. You’ve chosen this sport and it’s tough, so toughen up and move on.

Two nights ago, at the hospital interning in the Obstetric and Gynaecology department under a rigorous internship programme, we were still seeing patients past midnight. We were on call, which means we see all new patients who come in during our 36-hour shift. Yes, being on call means working from 7am through the night till 1pm the next day. The junior doctor I was shadowing was tired, dehydrated and had 5 different nurses from 3 different places located a great distance from one another calling him to attend to patients. In addition, his superior was upset with him because of a misunderstanding. As we were walking, almost running from one ward to another, I saw his suffering. Yet, he was laughing, joking about how he had needed to go to the toilet since 8pm but had held on for so long that his bladder no longer had any sensation. It was midnight when he shared that. We were roaring with laughter, and he continued to joke with the nurses, to pull my leg even after a tongue-lashing by his senior.

And then I realised, that we were enduring this pain because we chose to do medicine. We endured the pain because we know that housemanship will only be but for a year, and the suffering would teach us skills which would equip us for life as a doctor.

Toughen up and move on. Stop being such a girly girl. Finish the race.