The joy that comes out of sorrow

If you haven't figured it out yet (see last post), I am Mormon, or a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. We believe in the Book of Mormon as another set of scriptures (hence the nick-name Mormons). There are many things we believe differently than other Christian religions, which is why there is a debate about whether we're Christian or not. But personally, I think it's simple. We believe in Jesus Christ as the Savior of the world and the Redeemer of mankind. We strive to follow His precepts. Therefore we're Christian.

In 1 Corinthians 12:26 it says"And whether one member suffer, all the members suffer with it; or one member be honoured, all the members rejoice with it." Here Paul was discussing how the church, as a body, functions; what roles members of the church needed to play.

The Book of Mormon shares a similar idea. Alma, a prophet, was talking to a group who wished to come closer to God. He invited them to be baptized and become members of the church and to do those things which Christ did. He said in Mosiah 18:25-26: "And now, as ye are desirous to come into the fold of God, and to be called his people, and are willing to bear one another’s burdens, that they may be light; Yea, and are willing to mourn with those that mourn; yea, and comfort those that stand in need of comfort, and to stand as witnesses of God at all times and in all things, and in all places that ye may be in..."

Of course it's not only within a religion or a church that these rules are supposed to be applied. Regardless or race, religion, culture or background Christians are to bear one another's burdens, mourn with those who mourn, and comfort those who need comfort. Truly, if one person suffers, doesn't the entire world suffer?

These are concepts I believed in but did not really understand until yesterday. Yesterday I discovered what it really means to mourn with those who mourn. Yesterday, I learned a little bit more how to be a Christian.

It wasn't a grand event. It was actually rather simple. Yesterday I had a massage appointment. It was both the most powerful and the most difficult massage I've ever given.

It started normal. The woman called on the phone. She found our coupon on the calander and wanted a massage. She'd hurt her back and wanted relief. When she walked through the door I noticed some things. She had tangled hair and her clothes didn't fit very well. Plus she seemed a little slow in her responses to my questions. In another minute her husband and daughter walked in the door. Her husband was dressed alright, but nothing especially sharp. Her daughter's hair was a mess and it was obvious she was in hand me down clothes. I also detected a slight odor. If I can smell someone before we start the massage, I can normally smell them 2 or 3 times as much during the massage. I grew up poor. I can understand the ill fitting clothes, but couldn't she come clean?

I gave her the paperwork to fill out and continued with my preparations. After only a minute she called me over and tried to hand me the clipboard. I noticed she hadn't even signed it. This annoyed me as well. Filling out the paperwork is pointless if she doesn't sign the bottom. Before I could say anything she pointed the the question which asks what's you're stress level on a scale of one to 10. She'd written 10. I also noticed she hadn't filled out anything below it. She apologetically explained that her son had died at the end of January and that's why she wrote down 10. All my impatience dropped away. My entire demeanor changed. I kindly asked her to sign her name at the bottom and told her how sorry I was to hear that her son had died. She signed her name but didn't fill out anything else. I didn't push her. I simply led the way to the massage room and made sure she was comfortable.

I was really hoping she'd be one of those quiet clients who just lays there. She wasn't. She was carrying around a burden and she had found a sympathetic ear. She told me all about her current problems. Her husband had lost her job. Her oldest boy was devastated that his little brother wasn't around anymore. The more she talked, the sadder I felt. My mom died just last August. My heart was heavy with my own grief as I listened to her.

I could have cried then and there, but I found myself playing another role. I wasn't just mourning my mother. I was mourning with her--mourning her precious baby boy who would never grow up. I felt her sorrow as she tried to live a normal life, to be a pillar of strength for her family but inside she was being eaten up. She said at one point that she didn't know herself anymore. Those are sentiments I expressed shortly after my mom died.

As I was finishing the massage, I found myself comforting her. I found myself bearing her burdens. I was the one giving her strength. As she left, I could see tears of gratitude in her eyes, not because I gave her an amazing massage, but because I had carried her burdens with her, if only for an hour. I had truly mourned with her. I had comforted her. By the time she walked through the door to leave, it didn't matter that she had tangled hair and clothes that didn't fit. It didn't even matter that she didn't smell the best. All I saw was another child of God who was suffering.

After she left, I thought about the experience. I wanted to cry. I was sad for myself and I was sad for her. Yet somehow I had more strength to carry my own burdens because I took the time to carry hers. My heart was lighter, despite my grief. Just as it says in Corinthians, if one member suffers, all suffer. I suffered with her. And if one member is honored, all members are honored. If one person is comforted, it eases the souls of all. By comforting her, I comforted myself. I hadn't thought about making myself feel better but somehow that's exactly what happened.

Some people say that God can't be real because if He was, He wouldn't let us suffer. Or if He is real, He doesn't love us. If He loved us, He would take away all our sorrows. I disagree with both of those ideas. In the Book of Mormon it says "Men are that they might have joy." (2 Nephi 2:25). God created us to have joy. If there was no pain, how could we ever understand joy? It is from my struggles and trials, things like my mother's death, that I discover what Joy really means. God lets us suffer because He loves us and He wants us to grow, to learn, and to find Joy.

Yesterday I learned that my own weaknesses, my sorrows and pains, can be turned into strengths and give me compassion and empathy. By carrying others burdens, mourning with those who mourn and comforting those who need comfort--in other words, by trying to live as Christ lived--I find peace to my soul and discover joy in a place I thought I'd never find it. In my darkest place I now have light. Only through helping another did I find this joy and I couldn't have helped her the way I did if I had never mourned with her. Truly, joy can come out of sorrow.