The Place for Pain

I have never quite understood people

who are always happy and cheerful.

It's admirable, of course,

but seems quite beyond attainment.

Yesterday in a church meeting, I asked myself,

If I had to be cheerful all the time,

would I still be me?

I'm not sure I would.

I spend a lot of my life

thinking and writing about beauty

and what it means to be human--

two things that can only be understood

in the context of pain.

How is possible that these cheerful people,

I often quip,

don't feel the pain of the world around them?

And how do I become like them?

I beat myself down,

without an answer to these questions.

But a few minutes later,

in that same meeting,

the speaker quoted C.S. Lewis' The Problem of Pain,

which compares kindness with love.

We often think of God as Kindness,

the type of kindness whose only end

is to see others happy.

This kindness says,

"What does it matter so long as they are contented?"

There is no concern for whether people become good or bad,

"provided only that [they] escape suffering."

This kindness is like the cheerfulness I have described--

an end unto itself,

naively misapplying its own virtues.

However,

"If God is Love, He is, by definition,

something more than mere kindness.

And it appears, from all the records,

that though He has often rebuked us

and condemned us,

He has never regarded us with contempt.

He has paid us the intolerable compliment

of loving us,

in the deepest, most tragic,

most inexorable sense."

God's love for us means that it's okay if we suffer.

He was willing to suffer for us so that we don't have to,

but He knows we will.

He has more in mind for us than just our escaping suffering.

He wants us to become like Him.

So there is a place for pain.

If cheerfulness is like the kindness Lewis describes,

then I think real happiness is like the love he describes.

Happiness is possible,

and men exist to have joy,

but it requires a price.

It is a joy because of pain,

not one in spite of it.

And I sure am glad.

I wrote down in my book,

"A world with only cheerfulness and no pain

would have no room for me in it."

My life is a movie.

In 2010, I had a silly crush on a guy in one of my classes.

I didn't know him at all.

.

.

A bit more than a year later,

I wrote this.

.

.

And last night, I went on a date with him.

Crazy, right?

He correctly identified the pattern of his shirt

as gingham.

At the planetarium,

we learned that constellations are kind of dumb.

And we ate hipster food.

I wanted to order the Jack Kerouac burger,

just because.

But I got the Chubby Checker.

Isn't life funny?

Something old, something new.

Today, I crossed campus at early dusk.

I was in the southeast corner,

where the science buildings are,

where I never go.

But it was so beautiful that I murmured out loud,

I love this place.

I was on my way to the Brimhall Building,

the only building left on the main campus

that I had never been inside.

Part of me didn't want to go in,

to maintain some sense of mystery.

A couple of years ago,

there were tons of buildings 
that were still mysteries to me,

but slowly I've explored most of them.

At length, I decided I'd do it.

What else is your last semester of school for,

if not to do things you've never done?

Immediately, I loved it.

It's charmingly old,
and you know how I feel about old things.

The floor tiles that reminded me of my elementary school,
the wooden banisters,
the inconvenient layout.

I think I loved it,
because it was new.

A little treasure.

A little pocket of something I loved,
held back for me
to make me happy
right at the end.

Wanderlust.

I used to have this thing against California & Florida.

I thought of them as glorified vacation spots.

You can't live year round in a place with palm trees!

Obviously, I had a change of heart.

.

.

.

I actually went to California.

Right now I'm in Orlando for a conference.

This is our hotel!

And it's lush

and warm

and I love it.

And I said to myself,

I need to spend at least part of my life 

living in a place with palm trees.

Ignoring what this humidity does to my hair, of course.

Let's not talk about that.

But then I went to a conference session

given by a sweet man from Alabama.

And I decided,

I need to spend at least part of my life in the South.

I need to live in a town called Possum Trot.

The next session was led by a women from Rhode Island.

Then, of course,

I need to spend at least part of my life in New England.

I want to be brash and intelligent.

And maybe live near Walden Pond.

And I want to be a hipster in the Pacific Northwest.

And a farmer in the Midwest.

And a Delaware mom who vacations at the beach

and has a smoker voice.

Not to mention how terrifying it is to think of life

without the Rockies.

Healing.

This is one of my favorite religious paintings.

"Healing at the Pool of Bethesda," 1883

Carl Bloch

The sick and infirm sat here 

waiting for a chance to be healed.

Then came Jesus.

...

We have this painting hanging in the art museum at BYU.

It's huge,

and it's nice to sit in front of it.

I don't look at Jesus

or the man being healed,

but the one next to them.

The one in the cap, hugging his knees.

I am drawn to the sharpness 

with which Bloch has painted his face.

...

Off to the right,

there are those who don't notice Him.

To the left,

they are watching, marveling,

maybe doubting.

But I think that man is hoping.

He's stealing a hesitant glance.

He sees what Christ can do,

and he knows it.

But he may not believe that it could work for him.

After all, he is so lowly and common.

Will He come to me next?

Am I good enough to be healed?

...

Of everyone in that painting,

I think we are that man,

trying to remember that the answer to those questions

is yes.

Then we can talk about life.

Yesterday,

we spent a moment at church meeting new people

by talking about who our perfect fictional love interests 

would be.

I said Gilbert Blythe.

But today, I realized

.

.

.

there's someone else.

Fyedka from Fiddler on the Roof.

Usually, I'm the first person to gag

during cheesy romantic parts of movies.

Just ask me how I feel about rose petals.

But even I have my moments.

Take a look at the first part of this.

Let's just ignore the whole bit where

he turns her away from her religion and family.

Otherwise, a Fyedka is perfect for me.

.

.

Just before the clip starts,

he tells some buddies who are teasing her 

to leave her alone.

He's willing to fight for her,

as she would be for him.

.

.

I've often noticed you at the bookseller's.

Not many girls in this village like to read.

He notices that she's smart and interesting.

.

.

Would you like to borrow this book?

It's very good.

He's smart and interesting.

.

.

Do you feel about me the way they feel about you?

I didn't think you would.

He helps her see when she's being dumb.

.

.

Let me tell you about myself.

I'm a pleasant fellow,

charming, honest, ambitious, quite bright.

And very modest.

He's funny. 

See the way he waits for her to laugh?

He's got some pizzazz.

.

.

And the kicker:

Go ahead.

Take the book.

And after you return it,

I'll ask you how you like it.

And we can talk about it for a while.

Then we can talk about life.

And how we feel about things.

That's all you need.

How to Celebrate Presidents Day.

I promise you that your life will be fuller and richer

if you begin celebrating the minor holidays.

Tomorrow is Presidents Day,

so why not start now?

Here is your how to guide.

1. Memorize the presidents in order.

There are only 44.

You can really do it.

If you memorize the presidents 

and pass it off to me within the next week,

I'll give you a prize.

2. Do a Presidents Day craft.

Yes, you'll feel like you're in elementary school.

Yes, that's the point.

3. Recite or listen to a speech by a president.

And then think about it.

Not that long ago we lived in a world

where choosing to pursue the moon

was a daring and controversial choice.

Can you imagine that?

4. Eat something special.

Like jelly beans--Reagan loved them.

Or Mamie Eisenhower's fudge recipe.

Just something special.

If it's not presidents related,

then talk about presidents while you're eating.

5. Memorize a few presidents facts and quiz your friends.

Like,

Which president had an alligator live at the White House?

This one, if you recognize him.

In general, just think about America

and be grateful.

And spend it with me,

if you can :)