In March, I gave a talk at St. Hyacinth about suffering. One day I’ll compile my notes from the talk into a blog post. I learned a lot in doing the research, particularly regarding the “whys” and how the Church explains suffering.

I’ve always been too deep in suffering to really care why. C.S. Lewis describes grief as a circle, never knowing whether you’re going up or coming down. Well, if that’s true, I’m on the KING of rollercoasters over the last few years. Up and down and up and down. I’ve been to mired in the feeling of pain to really care what theology said.

In the light of all that research, when my friend share the above image about redemptive suffering with this text:

And also painful. Let’s not sugarcoat this. It’s redemptive. It’s transformative. It’s WORTH IT. But it’s still painful. You aren’t “doing it wrong” if it hurts.

I realized that I have always figured it hurt so much because I was doing something wrong.

We forget that a lot when talking about suffering. “Offer it up” and “look at the bright side” and “find the silver lining” are all important aspects of our Catholic understanding of suffering. But, we do the world, our faith, and the reality of redemptive suffering a GIGANTIC disservice when we ignore the fact that pain isn’t relieved because we offer it up.

Pain. is. real.

And it doesn’t go away because we’re prayerful or closer to God.

Great saints suffered great pain, like St. Faustina. Christ often told her how life would challenge her in her visions. Divine Mercy is great because we are given an opportunity to find meaning in our suffering, but it doesn’t take away that suffering. Divine Mercy is a beautiful reminder of the promises of redemptive suffering. There is nothing that God can’t make good from. However, no where does it promise we won’t be in pain here on earth. Maybe that’s why I’ve always been so drawn to St. Faustina’s revelations. They offer deep consolation without seeming unrealistic.

If being a perfect human meant life would not bring pain means that Jesus wouldn’t have been able to suffer on the Cross.

We are not worse Catholics because sometimes our cross seems unbearable. We are not better Catholics when we seem to manage the unimagineable with a positive attitude. We cannot compare our cross to the cross of our brothers because what might seem like a simple thing to us to bear is a cross of almost unbearable pain to them.

Despite all the research I have done recently, no one quite put it like my friend did last week. And it really clicked a light bulb in my head. For years, probably since my best friend died when I was in grade school, I always figured I was doing something wrong. Maybe I was praying wrong or offering it up wrong or just not holy enough because it hurt. Brent’s death hurts (present tense). Losing 11 loved ones in 2013 hurts. The aftermath of my sister’s accident, despite the miracles we’ve seen, hurts. Life, and the suffering that comes with it, hurts.

And that’s okay.

If you’re in pain, it’s okay. It doesn’t mean you’re less of a Catholic. It doesn’t mean you’re doing anything wrong. You could do everything perfectly and still be in pain (look at Job!). You are enough. Throw yourself on at the foot of the Cross, believe in redemptive suffering, but don’t be discouraged if you still hurt.