The Refiner's Fire
It has been said on this site that suffering is simply the shadow of God. Life itself is miraculous and startling, but man needs much prodding to do what is right and to deepen his faith. Comfort is always what man settles for, thinking it the whole good. There is simply no avenue of growth and challenge in spending life by living the way of least resistance. Man inherently longs for more and to truly be the hero of his own drama. However, suffering is a part of life, and if avoiding pain and self-sacrifice is our main objective, we will ultimately be unable to do so. Suffering can be accepted for the sake of Christ and offered up for love of Him, but the experience of suffering often brings flaws to the forefront. This in turn can encourage self-knowledge and a deepening of character. If we don't persevere, we deny ourselves the chance to grow in virtue since such growth is often achieved in the school of hard knocks.
Man is tied to materiality, and he will often become distracted by his senses, falling into a passive, even slothful, existence. It takes effort to transcend the pull of materiality, but the rewards for seeking a higher purpose are immense. Living a meaningful life in pursuit of Truth is its own reward in this world and the next. This is why martyrdom is so inspiring. When one gives one's life, never counting it too much to lose for the sake of a belief (still better if one is Catholic and has the benefit of actual Truth and Faith!), it inspires others to follow a cause thought worthy of such a sacrifice. The blood of the martyrs is the seed of the Church, as Tertullian said.
Stemming from a similar indulgence and imbalance as those who live solely for material gain is a contingent who seek stability through self-mastery, divorced from any moral values (for example, eating a certain diet, running marathons, thinking/meditating in a certain manner). This gradually becomes a selfish pursuit and a source of comfort for those with no other compass in a tumultuous world, the same as overeating, scrolling on social media, or watching sports. People who follow this disciplined lifestyle tend to look only to themselves, idolizing their self-control, and making it a false god like a modern day Stoic. Marcus Aurelius said in his Meditations: "Suppose that men kill thee, cut thee in pieces, curse thee, what can these do to prevent the mind from remaining pure, wise, sober, just?" While this could sound praiseworthy, sentiments like this essentially miss the mark. The point is not to persevere in suffering for the sake of proving we can withstand anything while having peace of mind, like some kind of strength training contest, it is rather endured with the belief that Socrates stated: "No harm can come to a good man whether in this world or the next." We can believe this in the context of God rewarding the just in heaven no matter what they undergo in life; and we can also trust in God's assistance through all circumstances.
God certainly doesn't work through our strengths or self-control alone. In fact, it is often when we feel weakest that we learn most. As St. Matthew wrote, "Do not fear those who kill the body but are unable to kill the soul. Rather fear him who can destroy body and soul in hell." It is only from a place of self-surrender that we can find Christ in our sufferings, when we are empty of everything, even the will to endure, and we call on Christ. Our willingness to trust Him is what He waits for.
When a man sacrifices for a cause others can see if he truly believes in that cause, as with the martyrs to a great degree and even in avenues of daily life, like testing if a politician be trustworthy; but man still wants Christ to descend from the Cross and lead us on a road to God based solely on worldly acclaim and power. Instead, we should simply follow His enduring example through this paradox of suffering: "For if we died with Christ, we also live with him." The Cross is the culmination and consummation of Christ's life and His reason for coming into the world, saving us from our sins and opening the gates of Heaven. Paul calls us to imitate Him, "I have been crucified with Christ so it is no longer I who live but Christ who lives in me." The purpose of suffering is to accept it for the highest purpose--because we love. We prove our love by going through something difficult for the sake of something transcendent and spiritual. Suffering within love is innate since to love is to fear losing the beloved. It is like a spouse who looks at the beloved, seeing the affect of time, and knows with fresh conviction that true love is sacrificial. That's why it's romanticized to grow old with your spouse and to commit to suffering with each other, staying united through whatever may come to pass in life for the sake of love. I often struggle to see beauty in suffering, but I realize that it is precisely in that suffering that love is tried and found true, lasting, and beautiful--think of Our Lord on the Cross!
Even in art one can see the impact of being bound by one's time while transcending it and offering an element of self for the sake of creativity. The art of the Renaissance is creative and imitates reality while adding to it and interpreting creation through the lens of the artist. The artist creates subjectively and in imitation of God in his place in time, like a servant of the Holy Spirit. Conversely, the realist religious art often seen today is so close to reality that it leaves no room for the artist to be creative or to add their touch, while Modern Art is like an experiment in gratuitous suffering, making one suffer and grovel in it without any hope of the Creator or representing reality faithfully. Like Modern art, blind suffering is the fate of modern man when divorced from God.
Mass of the Ages, Episode 3, includes a perfect example of the suffering Artist, God Himself, who sees how His Church is marred by those who do not morn the loss of a Catholic past: near the beginning of the episode, clips of repurposed churches are shown, as well as churches on fire, statues of Jesus, the Blessed Mother, and the saints are destroyed throughout the U.S. and the world. Suddenly and gently one hears the song "Lulla, Lully, Lullay" by Philip Stopford. It is a relatively new piece based on the Coventry Carol. The context of the lyrics is a mother singing to her child during the slaughter of the Holy Innocents. It pierces to the heart by means of lullaby. How God must weep for His children, especially in our day, who know not what they do...
We must put on the armor of God, fearless in the face of loss of self, which is true bravery. Every day we ought to ask ourselves these startling questions, "Am I ready to die today, to go before God? Can I die to myself today? Can I offer my sufferings to Him?" I used to be incredulous when hearing the stories of saints: how can they have offered so much, and how can I ever hope to offer my life like that? Well, it simply is what we owe God to right the scales of our own time and what people from the beginning of time have owed God. In our own disgusting society we need to be motivated by faith, hope, and love. Love covers a multitude of sins. It makes small things great. When we love God, we don't count costs, or if we cannot help but see them, they're in their proper place. It is a joyful thing to give Him something Who gave all of Himself for us. We must trust Him to take our self-offering and perfect it in His love. We will find our feeble efforts have an unexpectedly impactful outcome at times when all we can do is thank God for finding us in our brokenness. Seeing how He stoops to our lowliness can only humble us the more since we know all our suffering is not only worth it but has immense rewards. Life's aim is to try, simply and wholly, to offer Christ our all, every moment and every breath. Yes, there truly is a shadow of Divine Love in our daily encounter with sufferings, which in themselves can often feel too heavy to bear. I recall a priest saying in a homily once that the words "His yoke is easy and His burden is light" are often misinterpreted, but the meaning behind them is profound: Our Lord's yoke is perfectly suited to our abilities and capacity. If we ask Him to aid us in bearing it He will never forsake us. In daily life, endurance is key, as well as bearing down and getting through it for the sake of Christ.
Chesterton in his "The Man Who Was Thursday" shows how the characters suffer, not understanding why, while trying to uncover a ring of anarchists. They have been deceived by appearances. When the cause is revealed, it is as if it were all a prank; and yet the affair is seen for what it is: confusing, painful, mysterious, wonderful, and the characters know perhaps a little better the reason behind their adventure. Such will our experience be, I suspect, when the shadows fall away, and we see Christ's beloved Face.