My Problem of Pain, by Jim Rohner

What follows is a tale of love and loss, of wooing and woe, and of the God that has yet to speak on how He fits into it all.  It is long, intimate, melodramatic and at times, rambling, written, I suppose, as a type of catharsis for myself or for any other believer who, when it comes to the topic of romantic love, finds some truth and relation in the words of C.S. Lewis when he said:

“When I lay these questions before God I get no answer. But a rather special sort of ‘No answer.’ It is not the locked door. It is more like a silent, certainly not uncompassionate, gaze. As though He shook His head not in refusal but waiving the question. Like, ‘Peace, child; you don’t understand.’”

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”
– Jeremiah 29:11

On July 6^th of this year, I was laid off from my job.  I’ll always remember that day because, contrary to the wisdom bestowed upon us by Office Space, I was let go on a Wednesday and told that my dismissal was immediate.  Without any job prospects, any real idea of what I wanted to do next, and without even an updated resume, any normal person in my situation would’ve probably been concerned with the situation.  I was now forced into facing the unenviable task of job searching without so much as the slightest inkling of career goals or a plan of attack to achieve them.

But I found myself surprisingly jovial about the entire situation.  For one thing, I really didn’t like my job, hadn’t been happy there for about 2 years, and this was just the kind of swift kick in the ass I needed to shake off the complacency that has become the modus operandi of many of the “be thankful you have a job in this economy” employees.  But what buoyed me even more than that was the invigorating thought that no matter what I did next, whether I became a garbage man or head of the teamsters union, I would be backed by the unconditional love and support of my girlfriend, who for the sake of anonymity, will from here on in be referred to only as B.

At the time of my firing, B and I had been dating for a shade under 3 months, long enough where the initial euphoria surrounding the relationship had faded, but also long enough where it was slowly being replaced by the ever more satisfying and sustaining feelings of comfort and companionship. I won’t bore you with the many mundane details about my romantic shortcomings, but suffice it to say that for an otherwise directionless 27-year old who had experienced far more friends’ weddings than girls in the past 5 years, I was pretty confident.  No matter what God had in store for me, I knew I would be facing it with B by my side.

Then on August 23^rd, two weeks after we marked 4 months together, B ended the relationship.  There was no buildup to it, no hints that something was wrong, no clues that would’ve led me to deduce that her invitation to come over and talk that day would result in leaving me a once again single and wholly directionless man.  In an instant, it became as C.S. Lewis once described: “The act of living is different all through.  Her absence is like the sky, spread over everything.”

Now, 4 and a half months may not seem like enough time to warrant a tale of woe to those of you who are currently in or have been involved a long-term relationship, but I haven’t a shred of doubt that both the strength of my commitment and the selflessness of the love I felt for her were any less developed or sincere than those of couples who have been together for years.  In B, I had found the fruition of everything I had ever wanted in a relationship, both in the traits for which I had always hoped to find and those that I never knew I wanted until taken by surprise by them.

We are told as finite, flawed human beings that we can only comprehend perfection in context rather than content.  Often times, I feel people use that mentality as validation to explain away the things that aren’t working in a relationship – “well, sure, things are a little bit rough, but nobody’s perfect” – but the only word that my meager grasp on the English language could possibly come up with to describe what B and I had was perfection.

A couple with a height discrepancy as apparent as that of our upbringings, B and I were still of one mind on practically everything, which bonded us together even closer with a playful “us vs. them” mentality where we just couldn’t comprehend how people didn’t just stop bitching about things that didn’t matter and have more fun with their lives. Everything we did together, we did with smiles on our faces, from the mundane (grocery shopping), to the sensual (use your imagination), from the casual (watching hours of “Breaking Bad” on Blu-ray) to the outgoing (a weekend camping trip to Lake George). I don’t think anyone who was privy to our relationship would’ve blamed me for gradually coming to believe in 2 revelations: that I was very much in love with her and that for one of the first times in my life, my will and the will of the Lord were in complete sync.

Anyone who wholeheartedly believes that they have received an epiphany in the truest sense of the word can attest to the sheer joy – indeed, even the sense of relief – that accompanies the assurance that, though the Lord moves in mysterious ways, there is at least one aspect of living in which He’s moving methodically enough where we can keep perfect pace with Him.  That’s what I had experienced here and while I can’t point to the exact moment these things occurred to me, I can point to a moment that typifies it.

One night after a marathon “Breaking Bad” session, I leaned over to kiss her softly as I often did.  Make no mistake – despite the fact that I was sitting in an empty house on crowded Staten Island, I was definitely in church.  B’s lips were the gospel truth being preached from the altar of her green leather couch and there, bathed in the soft glow of an idle TV, I felt the presence of the Lord.  With our eyes closed and our foreheads gently pressed together, I said a quiet prayer: “I love you, B.  I know you can’t hear me, but I love you so much.  And Lord, I thank you for this girl seated here before me.  I thank you for bringing her into my life and I thank you for choosing me as the one for her.  Help me to love her selflessly and provide me with the wisdom required to navigate a life with her by my side.  Amen.”

I paint this intimate and perhaps verbose picture in perhaps a futile attempt to accentuate the contrast between that holy night and the terse words I had for the Lord on the afternoon of August 23: “I hate you.”  For those who have been through a serious breakup, I need not rehash the sensation of drowning one feels in one’s own thoughts as the mind tries and fails to reconcile the joyous past experiences with the suddenness and gravity of the present and its implications for the future.  Half of the pain of a breakup comes not just from losing the one you love, but from also losing the world to which you’ve grown accustomed.  I wasn’t just losing B, but I was losing her neighborhood, the 45-minute drive I would take to see her, her dog that would throw up on the window sill, the pool parties with her family, the iPad games with her 5-year old nephew, her mom’s garlicy cooking.  Driving home, I was Mel Gibson during the climax of Signs; simultaneously broken and furious over feeling I had been inexplicably and unfairly robbed.  What did I do to deserve this?  Was it arrogant of me to assume that I knew the will of the Lord? Was this my Icarus moment?  Unlike Mel, the Lord did not step in immediately to placate me.

But something happened.

In the 45-minute period during the drive home, I went from barely holding myself together to confident and even excited.  I had always held the idea in the back of my mind that if B and I were to ever separate, I would be an inconsolable wreck – it could be the only logical response to losing “The One.”  And yet, here I was, not only not a wreck, but armed with a curious ease brought about by an even more mysterious confidence that, as The Killers say, everything will be alright.  I was happy to not be crying, but I was confused as to why I wasn’t, and so, unsettled by my own fortitude, I began to explore this sensation.

A dozen possible scenarios played out in my head, but at the end of the day, there was only 1 that made the least bit of sense to explain my incongruous shift in mood: her and I were meant to be together.  Ergo, this breakup would be only temporary.  Ergo, why mourn the loss of something that is ultimately to be returned?

Now, I know what you’re all thinking: self-delusion.  Were this any other relationship with any other girl, I would ledd credence to that argument.  But I’m familiar with self-delusion.  One might say that, regrettably, that I am fluent in the language of self-delusion.  But this was not that.  With self-delusion, there is always the realization, albeit microscopic and marginalized in the back of your mind, that you are deluding yourself, just choosing to ignore it.  No such thought ever crossed my mind.  The only way I can possibly describe what I was feeling was genuine conviction, the kind that no one except the Almighty and myself could ever or would ever possibly understand.  In regards to spiritual gifts, one might consider it discernment.

But in the following days, doubt, as it is wont to do, crept into my mind.  Was I really ever in sync with the will of the Lord?  Was it He who was speaking to me or was I just screaming so loud about what I wanted that I shut out any other voice trying to reach me?  As of this writing, it’s been a little bit over a week since B broke up with me, and while the pain has subsided substantially, the mystery of why this all happened still remains.  The verse quoted at the top of this page has been a comfort, I’m sure, to many Christians in times of trouble, but at this point in my life, I find myself more frustrated by said plans than comforted by them.  I’m not necessarily opposed to the idea that God could want something different for me than I want for myself, but I have big problems with how He chooses to reveal that.  There have certainly been plenty of times in my life where I have prayed for something – healing, comfort, guidance – and clearly received it, but those times seem to also be matched if not surpassed by the times where, like with B and I, I had thought I figured things out only to be shown that I knew nothing at all.  The old cosmic bait and switch, if you will.

Some Christians will say that it is not my place to question the greater plans that the Lord has for me or that I, as a finite human, could not possibly comprehend the makeup of His schematic for my life.  You know what I want to scream at those people?  “Fuck you.”  Seriously. I’ve been told by some, “if you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans,” but that doesn’t seem fair.  It’s not just that it doesn’t seem fair, but to receive such an answer to such a problem depicts, in my opinion, not a loving God whispering to me that all will be well, but instead a cruel micromanager who hopes to keep the level of trust that I have in myself so unstable that I have no choice but to rely on Him.

For the first time in my life, I know exactly what it is I want to commit myself to and it’s not a job, it’s not a place, it’s not a skill – it’s a person.  The minute I came to believe that was the minute that I felt an amazing relief, and yet, while I still want that, I can’t help but wonder if I should.  If B and I are indeed meant to be together, shouldn’t my resolve be stronger?  Shouldn’t I be the protagonist of a romantic comedy where I gladly suffer the slings and arrows of a misunderstanding world because I stand firm on the desire of my heart?  If the Lord wanted me to have this, then certainly He wouldn’t also supply me with doubt.  On the other hand, wouldn’t the Enemy want me to question the will of the Lord?  I’m finding it impossible to decipher any answers because resounding the loudest through the din of uncertainty is one question that would help answer all the others: how is it possible for me to discern what I want and what the Lord wants for me?

Still too near to the grief, of course I don’t want to meet any other girl, of course I don’t want to get over her; part of me feels like it would be unfair to her and to the effort I put into the relationship to get over her now or ever.  “There are plenty of fish in the sea” my mother says, but my mind fails so completely to comprehend how anyone could be better for me than B that whoever I end up with (if anyone) will have to be the Helen of Troy of fish.  So, as of right now, all I have is a longing to get her back and the willingness to do what must be done to achieve that.  As I’ve said in prayers many times already, I’m squared on the line, poised and ready to run the race if the gun goes off.  But if I hear the shot, will it be because the Lord is telling me to go or because I’ve got the gun to my head?