I am a Christian. Some might call me a staunch Christian. To be a Christian, which entails following in the footsteps of Jesus Christ, is a choice fraught with Suffering. Not surprising, given the very essence of our belief system is in the suffering of our Founder, when he was unjustly crucified by the Romans, at the behest of his fellow Jews, after having lived a life of poverty, literally never having a bed to call his own since he left is Mother’s house.
Suffering, I have come to learn, is arguably the scalpel with which to separate the thin tendons that separate various world religions and belief systems. But we won’t go there today.
Divine providence kept me at arm’s length of deep, personal pain. The closest I have come to losing a loved one was when a maternal Uncle of mine succumbed to death by alcohol abuse. But we weren’t close. My Dad literally lost all his six brothers to complications related to high blood pressure and diabetes, a condition he contends with as well to date. But I wasn’t close to them. Did I mention he was orphaned before he was 3 years old?
When we escaped from our home after the 1992 tribal clashes, I was 5, and barely remember the details. I did however have a front row seat to the financial constraints this brought, as I watched my Parents start all over again with nothing to their name, and four Children in tow.
My spiritual foundations were laid by the bricks of their relentless belief in God, despite our dire circumstances. My mother still wore her Rosary, and recited it daily. My Dad didn’t tire of reminding us that God was in control.
We still laughed, and played, and went to the local Township public school. We were still expected to uphold the highest standards of good behaviour, and perform excellently in school. We joined our local Church community, and allowing of us served in various capacities. My memories are littered with the adventures and scrapes typical of any normal Kenyan childhood.
When I met my wife-to-be, she was in awe of the fact that I lived with my Siblings. Apparently, a 23 year old guy barely out of Campus, living with his 3 siblings, and happily so, wasn’t a common sight. She thought I was a Hero (which worked in my favour as I courted her). But I had grown up in close quarters with my Siblings, courtesy of our living conditions back in the country side. We shared everything, and as they streamed into the City upon completing high school, it went without saying that we would share a house.
The first time I collided head on with Suffering, I didn’t see it coming. I don’t know if anyone ever does really. After a 15 year streak as a highly valued, high achieving professional, I found myself without a job. Circumstances far beyond my control led me to resign from a high paying executive role at a global Company. I’ll never forget the walk I took with my wife, as I gave her the grim news. The birds chirped but their melodic sounds were like a funeral dirge. The sun was setting in the horizon, but all I saw was the embers of the flames that had been my hopes.
Over the next few months, I would go through all the stages of grief. I realised that my Career had been a core element of my identity. Who I was outside of a role profile was vague at best. Without the burden of a task list to wake up to daily, it occured to me that I had an unhealthy relationship, or none at all, with rest. What did jobless people do with a full 12 hours of daylight?
At first, only my ego was bruised. A job would come calling asap. I knew it. It had always come. I was too good, too experienced to stay jobless for long. It took 6 months. I prayed, I fasted, I cried, I screamed (at God), I asked question after question, not satisfied with the answers that came. This experience humbled me. I hadn’t known the pain of getting a rejection letter for a job I believed I was perfect for. I had to learn who I was without a paycheck. I became the guy who approaches his bank for a loan repayment holiday. Yet, I still had to be a Husband, and a Dad, and a Firstborn Son, and a Youth Mentor, and an Estate Chairman, and a friend, without a high profile job to anchor on. I had to find a new core.
I am no longer a stranger to Suffering. I may not know the yoke of a Chronic Desease, or the burden of a strained Parental or Sibling relationship. I may not know the heartbreak that comes with the death of a loved one, or the strain of finding normalcy after years of Sexual or physical abuse. I do however know, through experience, what the Christian faith teaches; that whatever our circumstance, we are called to deny ourselves, take up our Cross and keep following him. He promises to make our burdens light, and our yoke easy, because he knows first hand what Suffering entails.
This may be cliche, but following my job loss, I believe I am better for it. Those 6 months produced deeper faith, and richer hope. I endured shame, but got to know Christ more personally, because I could identify better with him on that Cross.
