Tough Times? Depends on Who You Ask.

Why is there adversity?

We’ve heard myriad answers in church. Is adversity a tool of the Lord to make us stronger?

I don’t think so.

Gaining strength is a byproduct of adversity. You don’t have adversity because you need to get stronger. You get stronger because you have adversity. (Hopefully)

If adversity is to have any “purpose” in the grand scheme, it is to keep us mindful of what God gave us. Whenever we let our guard down and pity our situation or station in life, we should think about the problems we don’t have.

Proverbially, stress from adversity is like air pressure; it takes the shape of the role we cast it.

For instance, once upon a time Jenny complained that she didn’t see me enough in the day. Sure, twelve-hour days are hard on a mother of three. But now she would give anything to have those days back! She spends twenty-four hours a day without a husband while other wives are tortured with the loneliness of an eight-hour day. And although Jennifer’s husband is absent, at least she has one.

As students we heard the frequent murmuring against being poor. But student life is temporary. Jenny and I saw in China people that will live a lifetime of poverty, despite working their hands to the bone.

I complained about Cleveland’s bitter winter. But I moved. What about those who cannot move from the Sub-Saharan sun, or the parched earth underneath their bare feet?

What about those that will never enjoy the char of a burnt steak; those that will never enjoy the pleasure of a “bad” restaurant with “poor” service; those that, once you’re done with your “old” clothes, proudly wear your out-of-season fashions?

And as unqualified as I am to mention it, what about focusing on the pains of child birth while Mother Nature has left others unable to conceive? What about those that complain about their cough, but can afford medicine, and who are ailed with a germ that knows medicinal defeat? Dare I incriminate myself: What about the father that gets frustrated when his kids grind him with questions; kids with eyes to observe the world, with lips to inquire about it, and ears to hear a response? (And kids with healthy legs that enable them to sprint away when I tell them to ask their mother.)

Adversity inspires selfishness. It ties our shoelaces together; so even if we notice our neighbor’s trials (unlikely, since our eyes are focused downwards) we can’t respond with agility.

Whatever my adversity is, someone has it worse. And, lest that person become prideful, someone has it even worse off than him. And so it goes, until we find that person bedridden at the end of the adversity continuum, probably humble. And probably grateful for what he does have here on this Earth. After all, he has life. And life is one of the only two gifts humans are bestowed with that they were granted whether they wanted it or not. The other: how we choose to view it.

So next time you struggle with adversity, think of someone with more. Not to pity them, but to thank them for teaching you to be grateful for your small problem, however the size.