Mtr Mary Trainor
God is faithful, and he will not let you be tested beyond your strength…
Dear friend,
At times, I have fallen into a pastoral trap. Perhaps you have, also. It’s actually more of a conundrum than it is a trap. Finding ourselves so desperately wanting to comfort someone, we resort to words we’ve heard others use. And we use them without examination.
One of the more frequently offered sayings in times of loss and tragedy is this: God never gives you more than you can handle. By the way, I have learned that saying that rarely comforts. Rather, it adds to someone’s pain by suggesting that God was actually the giver of the pain.
I suspect this is a distortion of Paul’s words from his first letter to the church in Corinth (1 Corinthians 10:1-13.) It contains the words used at the top of this reflection. Here’s the rest of that same paragraph: No testing has overtaken you that is not common to everyone... but with the testing [God] will also provide the way out so that you may be able to endure it.
Horrific things happen to us in life. My “horrific” things are not greater or lesser than yours. And vice versa. Deaths, illnesses, losses, defeats, betrayals, disappointments, danger, sorrow, depression, addiction, abuse--and so many more. Paul says these horrific things are part of the human experience. I also hear Paul say God will provide the direction.
That’s the comforting piece. God provides a way through and out, so that we can endure whatever horrific thing comes our way.
We’re in the middle of a horrific thing right now. An enemy that we cannot see coming. In response, we do the 21st century version of “circling the wagons:” social distancing. We hunker in. We wash our hands. Gloves. Wipes. Masks. We live in virtual hermetically sealed homes.
As necessary as these responses are, they can lead to isolation, despair, loneliness, deprivation of resources, worry, fear.
... but with the testing [God] will also provide the way out so that you may be able to endure it.
In the early hours of Tuesday, February 9,1971, the 6.5 Sylmar earthquake shook Southern California, with numerous casualties.
I was at my parents’ house, some fifty miles from the epicenter. We ran outside to see what was going on. It was frightening. In an earthquake you’re not sure where to be. Inside where you can be crushed by falling things, or outside where you can be crushed by falling things. We opted for outside. A lighter in hand, my mother turned and asked, “Did you bring any cigarettes?” No. And neither had she. I dashed in quickly and returned. Grabbing the pack, she ripped it open and evenly distributed the contents. As she handed me my ten, she caught my eye, cracked a sly smile, and said, “In case we end up in separate fissures.”
I miss her in times such as these, her way of using humor to lighten a bad moment, or week, or year.
I will always believe she was one of the ways God provided so that I might be able to endure.
Mtr. Mary