Deeper Into Elizabeth Goudge

One benefit of an autobiography is that the author can state clearly, more directly, what she thinks, compared to how she must present the same ideas in fiction. I'm enjoying Elizabeth Goudge's words in Chapter 11 of her autobiograph, The Joy of the Snow, entitled "Pain and the Love of God."

"If we all suffered equally there would be no problem, but we do not suffer equally, and it is the inequality that creates the heart-searching for those among us who believe in the love of God."

"... unbearable suffering can corrupt as well as redeem." (both p. 195)

Quoting a conversation between two men she knew:
"I am tormented by the suffering of so many good and innocent people," one said.
"Yes, but what bothers me even more is the suffering of the wicked." (196)

If suffering is divinely intentional, prescribed and dosed, and redemptive, then it is puzzling why the wicked suffer. As punishment? Perhaps. But it's rather like giving medicine to a very sick person, who then throws it away. What a waste!

Goudge continues, "That would suggest that how an individual takes his pain, what he allows it to do in him and through him, is much more important than the pain itself. The scene of suffering in each person seems to be a battleground where a thing evil in its origin comes up against the battling love of God that would transform it into an instrument of victory, not victory for the individual alone but also for God himself in the cosmic battle between good evil." (196)

Isn't that a stunning image? Picture a plain of battle, and God is engaged for war. He is wrestling and fighting against our suffering, forcing it into submission, making it cow and bend and become something victorious in our lives -- bringing about those layers of "silver linings" that we're told to look for on each storm cloud. He's fighting to produce those good things that do emerge from the horrible phases of life. What a thought!! -- that God doesn't just conquer evil; He transforms it, forcing it to be His servant and do His will: our good.

Goudge's mother was very ill most of her life, a constant source of worry and sadness. But Goudge's particular suffering was depression, a state she fell into badly at times, with suicidal thoughts. What troubles her most, however, is the realization that she didn't empathize with others in their suffering until she suffered herself. "It is when it touches your own flesh," her mother told her, "it is then that you know." (196) Goudge felt remorse at her own callousness, and viewed her own mental illness as a most common one. 

Goudge struggled as many people do with her own faith, with suffering, with God's love, with reconciling these things. "I could not totally disbelieve in God because during my worst and most despairing nights there had seemed to be something there, some rock down at the bottom ... And always my parents' love and faith, the world's beauty and the sound of great music, seemed unexplainable without God .... Therefore I had to find a God I could love." (201) She does as many have done; she concocts a God who is weak and not in control of suffering. But her father would not allow her to believe such "utter nonsense" without a hearty disagreement. "A God who is not almighty is not God, and to believe in his possible defeat is not comforting; that way lies despair." (202) 

She wrangled with her heart and concluded, "If our own small intuition, upheld by the experience of the saints and mystics of all religions through all the centuries, persists in murmuring that God exists then there is nothing left for us except the humble acceptance of paradox and mystery." (202) I know strong-minded young people who reject this acceptance, precisely because it does require humbleness. Only the arrogant require a theology that our tiny human minds can fully comprehend. Any study of God by a human mind should end with a few paragraphs of "I couldn't figure this out," and "This is still a mystery." 

Speaking of Christ on the cross, she says, "And so God and the suffering caused by sin are inseparably united, and will be so until sin ends." (202) I've never thought of that aspect of the cross, that God was sealed to our suffering, that He continues to be united to human suffering. It is part of what He accepted on His shoulders when He became the Savior. Goudge says there is comfort in this thought. "It is hard to doubt the love of a God who is ready to suffer and die for us." And, "when we suffer we must be as close to God as we are to the pain." (202)

"Christ ... took our vileness into his body as a sponge sucks up water, that it might die with him on the cross .... Is it possible that our wretched little pain, united with his huge suffering, can also redeem?" (203) Do you see what she's asking? If our sin (which produces so much suffering) was absorbed and turned to redemption in Jesus's death, doesn't it seem logical that our sufferings as we experience them in real time should have redemptive effects? That's fascinating! (That's why I love Goudge, and discerning her mind in her novels, this is exactly the kind of mind I expected to find in her, in an autobiography.)

As I read this chapter I realize there are too many gems to share here, so I will recommend it to you for yourself. It's a slim book, but is meaty thick. I'm still chewing.