Words matter. Stop and think before you speak. An unpopular opinion. And a challenge.

Growing up my grandma used to call me Mary Mary. But since my name is Amber, for a long time it didn’t make sense. Until one day I asked her what she meant. She finished the sentence: “Mary Mary quite contrary, how does your garden grow?” Still, I didn’t understand so I inquired further, “what does contrary mean?” (I was maybe 7 or 8?). She just shook her head with a little impish grin and love in her eyes, and said, “it means you like to say, ‘no’ and do the opposite of everything all of the time.”

So…..I guess I’ve always been this way. 

Strong-willed. 
Counter-cultural. 
Question-asker. 
Whistle-blower.
Feather-ruffler.
Unpopular-opinion-haver.

Platitude-hater. 

And I’m okay with it. I celebrate it, even. I’m grateful my parents left room for it. And I’ve empowered my kids to be all of those things, too.

So, when I saw something on social media earlier this month, my instinctive willful nature caused me to pause and consider what was being said. And what wasn’t being said. … 

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… And where the platitudes get it wrong.

Before I get into the thing I read, first this: So much of the lazy, “platitude-d,” clichéd messaging we hear contradicts itself. Being stubborn is bad. But don’t be a pushover. Respect your elders/authority/the rules. But create boundaries and don’t compromise them. Don’t be bad. But you’re inherently sinful. You shouldn’t ask questions. But you don’t know everything, you know that, right? It’s not good to be so opinionated. But having convictions is highly regarded. It’s important that you learn from your mistakes. But they don’t really like how much you’ve changed. 

And the list goes on …

and on …

and on …

And then there was this …

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… “Don’t let your suffering define you. Instead, claim your identity as a child of God.” 

What a pretty little package with a glittery bow on top. And what a contradiction of epic absurdity.

Unpopular opinion? Maybe you found yourself nodding and agreeing, even finding comfort in it. And I don’t want to discount that. But I’d like to offer a challenging perspective and a different hope. Read on…

✅ First, this nonsensically denies very.real.human.suffering. Which creates additional suffering.

(Not to mention, Jesus, Himself, existed in human form literally for the ultimate purpose to suffer. His life, very much defined by His suffering. Because without His required suffering, He doesn’t rise victorious.)

✅ Second, we are in fact defined by the experiences, circumstances, decisions, and sufferings we live. Our lives aren’t voids, empty with nothings and nevers and nils.

(And what fools we are when we don’t learn from our past mistakes?! Right?!)

✅ Third, it forces an unwinnable competition between what exists in tangible life and what is supposed in intangible faith.

(The internal battle therefore undermining real reality and short-circuiting powerful faith; thus, the cliché voids the value of either entity.)

✅ Fourth, it uses a pretty-sounding-platitude to manipulate us into thinking that suffering should not and could not coexist with true faith, which in and of itself is the most toxic and problematic of them all.

(That the sufferer should believe harder, pray better, live good-er, to earn wellness and suffer no more. Yet at the same time, when convenient of course, we are told there is no promise of an easy life, that we know we are doing something right when we are experiencing hardship, that we are to rejoice in our sufferings because God’s love is tough love and He is molding our character to be more like His.
Wait, what?)

✅ Lastly, it assumes far too much – 1. that the one suffering doesn’t have questions of the God who could (but sometimes doesn’t) intervene; 2. that the one suffering has little, immature faith because they are suffering (and shame on the sufferer who isn’t believing God’s omnipotence); 3. that anyone suffering will feel the instant relief of its “opposite” – being God’s child (yet God is often presented as vengeful and intolerant so being His child can be far from encouraging) and 4. that the one suffering doesn’t also have space for non-suffering (such a destructive either/or).

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So Why Am I Writing About This

My surviving cancer is traumatic. It is suffering…daily. Active treatment is over, yes, cancer, though, is not. I’m never without my amputation, my scars, and my literal, physical, excruciating daily pain. I’m never without my upset stomach, my tight tendons, my pained joints, my spazzy nerves, my claustrophobic skin, my cancer monster’s hypochondria, or my distorted vision. I’m never without my perspective-shift from having dined with death. The way I eat is changed. The way I see (both literal and figurative) is changed. The way I smell is changed. The way I do my makeup and hair is changed. The way I dress is changed. The way I sit, the way I battle insecurity as my arms compulsively cross over my botched recon/decon is changed. The way I shower is changed. The way I sleep is changed. The way I breathe is changed.

You cannot tell me my suffering doesn’t define me. Nor should you. And what’s more, is that you cannot make the assumption, either, that because my suffering does define me, I am weak, a victim to melancholy. That I don’t also have room for joy and celebration and good and love and faith. 

Both exist together. I believe that because I honor my suffering, I open my heart to the richness that can exist to the depths of it. It’s hard here. It’s real and can’t be platitude-d away. It’s not outlined by conventional time. ….AND also, it’s abounding with purpose and hope and intention and significance.

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February’s Message:

I want to change the way we talk about suffering. On behalf of all sufferers (you too, perhaps, are a sufferer?) I want to unlock suffering from the destructive confines of denial and instead promote healing acceptance. I want to remove the opposing forces of the either/or. I want to promote sense rather than perpetuate nonsense. And I want to suggest that we can hold the real with the ethereal. 

I’m hopeful that my perspective can offer a different opinion, albeit maybe still unpopular, so that those that lean on the usage of platitude stop and think. What are you really saying? What messages are also in the message that may be unintended but harmful? What could you say that is more empathetic and affirming? How can you be more intentional and less lazy? How can you honor someone’s story even when their story causes you discomfort? How can you learn to sit with someone in their suffering, honoring the significance of it? And how can you learn to sit with your own suffering, honoring its significance, and let it maybe change you, too.

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Thanks for reading. See you next month 💚

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