I flew over suffering and death on Wednesday . . . literally. My Los Angeles to Atlanta "redeye" flight just happened to be in the air at just the time that dozens of tornadoes were setting down in Arkansas, Tennessee, Alabama and a number of other states. The pilot announced that there was a bit of weather off to our southeast and that we shouldn't be too concerned. He advised us to return to our seats and fasten our seat belts. It was a bit of inconvenience--but most of us complied.
I didn't pay much attention until I noticed lightning flashes outside the window. This got my attention. As I peered out, I saw a beautiful dark sky with twinkling stars above and a thick white cloud blanket below. The lightning splayed across the cloud blanket, bursting here and there all over the place. Occasionally a burst of lightning would rise above the blanket and create a brilliant flash. Generally though, the lightning was below the cover and the clouds would light up like some weird sort of neon cotton candy.
It was one of the most beautiful, awe-inspiring sights I have ever seen. The plane sailed peacefully on without a single bump while nature put on a dramatic show. We were somehow above it all--experiencing absolutely no effects--separated from the trauma below and at an altitude where we could simply watch and wonder.
Underneath, people were dying. I discovered this much later in the day after the flight had landed and I had started home. I tried to tell my wife about the beauty of it--and she began to share with me the horror of lives destroyed, of homes absolutely devastated, of communities in terrible pain and suffering.
It occurred to me that this is how it often is with suffering. Some of us endure the pain while others sail over it without even realizing that it exists at all. Our cocoons may not be metal tubes with windows--but they are cocoons nevertheless--shielding us from what life is really like for our brothers and sisters. The media tells us what we want to hear. Materialism is its own sort of cocoon, lulling us to sleep with full stomachs and lots of gadgets to keep us busy.
And the suffering passes underneath us virtually unnoticed, not so much because we don't care, but primarily because the stars in the sky and the cloud cover keep us from knowing all that is happening on the ground.
It occurs to me that it is so much easier to sail over suffering than to enter into it.
And it makes me deeply appreciate a God who decided to do just the opposite.
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3 comments:
Damn, Dr. Nash. I hope you don't mind that everyone who reads this is going to make it into a sermon sometime during Lent. Hope you are well.
Blessings, Dr. Nash. I hope you intend for everyone who reads this to include it in a sermon during Lent....even if it's a mental addition to someone else's sermon.
Thank you Dr. Nash for sharing your thoughts and experiences from this flight. I can only agree that we are more prone to escape suffering than enter it. Thank you for reminding me that there are those around us who are indeed suffering while we relax and take in the benefits of the "good life." I hope you are doing well.
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