“Compared to other people, I’ve got it easy.” So says a friend, whom I will call Bill, of a chronic health condition that causes him both pain and embarrassment.

Recently I encountered Bill at noontime when he and I happened both to be out walking. I noticed immediately that he was not looking his best: his face was gray and his expression somewhat strained.

In response to my inquiry, he acknowledged not feeling well that day. His intestinal problems were particularly bothersome. It hurt in a different way that he could not spend time in other people’s homes because of social embarrassment caused by this ailment.

Bill is a deeply spiritual man, as I know from previous contact. He has traveled widely and has lived and worked in other countries. Though he has learned much from this experience the doctors believe that his health problems may have resulted from it.

This encounter marked the first occasion on which Bill had talked openly with me about his health. Usually he cheerfully ignores the subject in conversation, preferring not to focus on matters he regards as private and too intimate for polite exchanges with friends.

Clearly he was feeling oppressed by illness on that particular day, enough so that he broke his usual reticence. For my part, I felt touched by his disclosures and took them as a sign of a growing friendship between us.

As he talked, I noticed how often he repeated the line quoted above: “Compared to other people, I’ve got it easy.”  It became a refrain in his conversation, one that reveals a certain attitude of soul.

It’s obvious to me that Bill does not, in fact, have it easy. His saying so, however, does him credit because it shows a spirit remarkably free of self-centeredness. Pain can easily narrow our outlook on the world and make us turn toward self as the only reality. “Why me?” we ask as if it’s all right for others to suffer but surely not for me to undergo the same fate.

The refrain about other people’s suffering being worse than his also reveals to me an attitude of compassion. He knows first hand about the problems of other people, having served as a counselor to many in the Boston area. He also has observed the conditions under which people in other parts of the world live and knows first-hand the afflictions many of them have to endure.

So he resists the ever-present temptation to self-pity by calling to mind the sufferings of others. He does not feel himself alone in coping with health problems that can perhaps be soothed but not cured. This perspective enables him to accept the physical pains that go along with the human condition.

On several occasions in church, I have noticed Bill absorbed in prayer. His hands folded and his face set in recollection, he kneels in silent attention to God. Of course I have no idea what he is praying about. But I wonder if he is not committing his ongoing health problems to the divine healer, asking for strength to accept his situation.

Though suffering is not desirable in itself, it can serve as a reminder that our life is more than it appears to be. Pain can rouse us out of our complacency and make it impossible to go on thinking of life as assured. I like to think that God hates pain even more than we do, but still God allows the mystery of evil to mark our lives.

When it comes to facing pain, one of my friends calls himself a “devout coward.” That inglorious description also applies to me. But, like Bill, I find it important not to see my own pain in isolation. In times marked by suffering, as in times of gratification, we belong to the human community.

I hope Bill finds relief from his pain and deliverance from those aspects of his condition that make it hard for him to visit the homes of his friends. However, such relief and deliverance cannot ever be assured. Whatever happens, I will continue to regard his perspective –  –  appreciating the suffering of others and seeing his own in that light –  – as a precious spiritual gift.

Richard Griffin