"Someone Always Has It Worse Off..."

If there is one phrase that is the worst, most overused phrase in the English language, second only to "If there is one..." whatever, it's this: "Someone always has it worse off than you."

There are a couple of reasons I hate this phrase. First, it's literally impossible. I know there are a lot of people in the world, let's say 7 billion and one. That would mean that there is one person who, at that moment in time, has it worse off than 7 billion others. Aside from a land-swell of pity I feel for that guy or gal, because they must be having a really bad day, we must admit that there is a lowest of the lows. There just has to be. "But Adam! It's just a figure of speech. You can't take it literally." Bullcrap. If I can't take it literally, then don't say it. Because if you know me, you know I'm going to take it literally.

The second reason I hate this phrase, though, is a little more important. There are few things you can tell someone that sound more selfish and heartless than this throw-away phrase. You may think it's offering someone perspective on how other people are in pain, but what you're really doing is telling someone that their pain is less important than someone else's. And worse, you're giving them the idea that you really don't care to talk about the pain they're feeling because "someone else has it worse, so I should really go listen to that person instead of you with your silly little problems."

Yes, we should always maintain perspective when we're hurting, but that doesn't mean that our pain is any less real. If I kicked you in the leg and then chopped off your friend's arm, I'd go to jail. But before that, what if I said to you, "Hey. At least I didn't chop off your arm." Wouldn't you still be hurting? Would your leg be any less swollen? No. That still happened. Your pain is still real. Yes, your friend is worse off, but you're still hurting, too. And it isn't right for anyone to deny you the care you need to heal that hurt.

True, I'm making a lot of bold comparisons and outlandish statements, but there's a great truth here that we need to understand as a culture. People are hurting. And as the church, we need to understand that people are hurting. There's a country song out there called "Merry Go Round." If you haven't heard it, yet, I suggest you go take a listen right now. This next sentence can wait. If you have heard it, remember that line in the 1st verse, I guess you'd call it the second stanza? Let me relay it here:

And it don't matter if you don't believe 
Come Sunday morning, you best be 
There in the front row like you're supposed to, 
Same hurt in every heart,
Same trailer, different park.

That's some tough music and lyrics to deal with. Do you see that? This song is talking about people seeking out help, sitting through church no matter what, just because they're in pain. Sure, they may be in the right place, but it isn't working. Why is that?

Some people would tell you that the reason the church isn't good at consoling hurting hearts is because we like to act like we've got it all together and nothing's wrong. I think their may be some truth to that, but it must go deeper. That can't be all that's wrong. I think the reason we're not good at consoling hurting hearts is because we don't act like their pain is real. Or like it matters. In this generation of Christians, we've gotten really good at looking at war-torn nations and third-world countries and seeing how we can help them. And I commend that. But we can't look to them and see their problems and start ignoring the hurt in the guy sitting next to us at dinner.

But what if we think someone's pain is...well...stupid? We've all seen Apollo 13. We all remember that scene where Tom Hank's daughter freaks out because the Beatles are breaking up, and she doesn't even realize that her mother is freaking out because her husband is about to ride a tin-can into space on the back of a giant explosion. Sure, we can look at that and say that her reaction is a little ridiculous in the face of her circumstances, but it was real pain to her. That girl was a wreck because four mop-headed tea-drinkers weren't going to be making music anymore. It's stupid, though! Sure, the Beatles are great, but that doesn't merit her reaction at all. But would she listen? No. She was hurting, and she wanted to deal with that hurt, not have someone tell her it was pointless and short-sighted.

Let me offer you a seemingly irrelevant piece of trivia that will prove essentially revealing in about ten seconds. What is the shortest verse in the Bible? Anyone know? Yes, you sir with your hand up! It's John 11:35, "He wept," or "Jesus wept," in heathen translations that don't love God. (I will admit, my own favored NLT goes so far as to translate it as "Then Jesus wept." AH! Blasphemy!) So what was Jesus crying about?

If you know the story, you remember that Jesus had just learned that His friend Lazarus was dead. That's understandable, isn't it? Jesus' close friend, probably his closest friend who was not one of the 12, is now dead. I wouldn't blame Jesus or anyone else for crying...

Until we examine things a little more closely. Jesus is the son of God, right? So He should know that Lazarus is in a better place. He should know that Lazarus is now with the Father in Heaven and is infinitely more joyful now than he was when alive. So Jesus shouldn't be crying. Jesus also knows that He is about to raise Lazarus from the dead. After all, the whole reason Jesus didn't come to see Lazarus sooner is because He wanted to let Lazarus die so that the Father's glory and power could be revealed through Lazarus' resurrection. So Jesus shouldn't be crying.

Should someone have given Jesus a stern warning about how unspiritual He was being? Or should someone have reminded Jesus why He was there? No. Of course not. Especially because Jesus wasn't crying at Lazarus' death. Let's take a closer look at what is really happening here:

John 11:30-38 (NLT)

Jesus had stayed outside the village, at the place where Martha met him. When the people who were at the house consoling Mary saw her leave so hastily, they assumed she was going to Lazarus’s grave to weep. So they followed her there. When Mary arrived and saw Jesus, she fell at his feet and said, “Lord, if only you had been here, my brother would not have died.”
When Jesus saw her weeping and saw the other people wailing with her, a deep anger welled up within him, and he was deeply troubled. “Where have you put him?” he asked them.
They told him, “Lord, come and see.” Then Jesus wept. The people who were standing nearby said, “See how much he loved him!” But some said, “This man healed a blind man. Couldn’t he have kept Lazarus from dying?”
Jesus was still angry as he arrived at the tomb, a cave with a stone rolled across its entrance.

Why was Jesus crying, then? He wasn't sad because of Lazarus' death, so why was He upset? Jesus was upset because He saw that someone He loved was in pain. Read that second paragraph again, verse 34, "When Jesus saw her weeping and saw the other people wailing with her, a deep anger welled up within him..." Jesus was not upset because of His own pain or sadness. Jesus was upset at the pain He saw someone else going through. Jesus was upset because one of His children was upset. The Bible tells us that Jesus was angry because of their pain. It drove Jesus to anger that someone He cared about was having to go through this situation.

 
Now Jesus has an eternal view of all things. He knew that Lazarus' death was all part of God's glorious plan, and He even knew that it would all work out for the best. But did He give Mary and Martha a stern talking to, or did He give them a sermon about how things will get better, or worse, did he tell them that, "Someone else has it worse off than you?" No, Jesus did not. He knelt down and endured that pain with them. If Jesus is moved by someone else's pain, how much more should we be?
To Jesus, this situation was pretty silly. He knew that Lazarus was but minutes away from being alive again. And even if Lazarus had stayed dead, Jesus had an eternal view of the situation. He knew that Lazarus was with the Father and was probably better off dead. To Jesus, Mary and Martha probably looked a little bit like that girl crying over the Beatles. There were more pressing matters at hand, and they should've just pulled it together and had faith in Jesus, right? But Jesus didn't condescend to them. He didn't treat their pain like it was stupid. He loved them. And He consoled them. And He empathized with them. Jesus cared for them, no matter how silly their pain looked to Him.

Now I'm a sucker for a sob story. I really am. If someone comes to me in pain, I crumble. I'm not quite a sympathetic cryer, but I hate to see people in pain. For me, it takes something pretty silly for me to want to tell somebody that their pain is pointless. For some of you, though, you probably won't stop for anything less than a life-threatening injury. We all have a different threshold of empathy. Where our threshold is just doesn't matter. What matters is that when people are in pain, we don't have to understand or agree with what they're crying about. We just need to find a way to be there for them. The worst thing you can do for someone in pain is to tell them that what they're feeling is wrong, or that it doesn't matter. The best thing you can do for them is offer them a shoulder to cry on.

But what do we do if someone really is dealing with something that is kinda silly? You folks know that I am a huge Georgia fan. If you cut me, I bleed red and black. Well, mostly red, but just go with it, okay? So this past December, when we came within a few yards of playing for the NCAA Football National Championship, I almost wept. It was a tough few days for the Bulldog Nation. I still can't really talk about that game without getting angry or borderline depressive. But these are the times when we have to ask ourselves if someone's pain is worth feeling? Alabama fans didn't really care, they were ecstatic, and they should've been. Tech fans were pretty jubilant about it, too. And so were a whole slew of other fanbases. They probably thought it was funny. And you know what, in the grand scheme of my life, I know it doesn't really matter. That doesn't make it any less real. That doesn't make it any less upsetting.

What it really comes down to is this. We don't have to agree with why someone is upset. We don't have to agree that it really matters. What we do need to understand, though, is that if someone is important to us, then their pain should be important to us. The subject of it may not important to us, but their pain should be. Their may come a point where we have to lightly encourage them to move on and outgrow that pain, because few things can be worse than wallowing in a long-forgotten injury, but that should never be our first inclination. Our first thought should always be to empathize with someone and make sure we treat them and their pain like they're important to us. Because they are important to us.

So let it be known that if you ever tell me "Someone else always has it worse off," that someone will very likely be you.

And if your favorite band ever breaks up or your favorite TV show gets cancelled, I'm here for you. For a little while.
Adam W. Wynn


Author's Note: Adam Wynn is the author of the mildly unknown internet novel "Will Baker is Dead," and is currently preparing to marry the love of his life, Ivey Nash. If you have any problems with that, do not come to the wedding and expect to hear "If anyone has reason these two should not be wed, speak now or forever hold your piece," because we're cutting that part out. He enjoys writing and speaking and teaching children about Jesus on the weekends.

The Prodigal Son's Older Brother and The Ray Lewis Dilemma

As I've said before, most of us imagine ourselves to be the protagonists of our own epic story, when the truth is that we might just be the antagonist in someone else's. Or, if we're lucky, we get to be the comic relief. Either way, we often have a very self-centered view of the world. Not in a selfish sort of way, just in a way that means everything we see or hear or experience revolves around us. See? Totally not selfish.

So this week I've been preparing a lesson for our children's church this Sunday (shameless plug - bring your K-5 kids to Mars Hill Baptist in the Athens/Watkinsville area at 10:30am!) on "The Prodigal Son." You see, we're spending the first three weeks of February talking about some of the small holidays we celebrate in the month of February, and how they can be connected to the Bible. Some of them are admittedly a bit of a stretch, like comparing the story of Lazarus to Groundhog Day (yes, I'm brilliant), but this week we'll talk about God's love for us and how that's evident through the story of the Prodigal Son.

If you're not familiar with this story, I'll let you take a minute to read up on it in Luke 15:11-32.

[INSERT JEOPARDY! MUSIC]

Done? Good. Now let me summarize what you just read. The story of the Prodigal Son is a parable Jesus told. In fact, it's the third parable in a series of three (not a trilogy, though, George Lucas didn't do this one) about lost things being found. There was a missing coin, and a missing sheep, but also a missing son. More accurately, a runaway son. The younger of two brothers asked for his share of the inheritance, essentially telling his father "I wish you were dead," and went off into the world. He spent his money on wild living and whatever similar nonsense, and wound up broke and in the dumps. Quite literally. He was feeding pigs.

He eventually got so desperate that he crawled back to his father. The boy had a script he was going to follow, down to the letter, begging his father to take his son back on as a hired hand so that he could eat something better than what pigs ate. But you know what his father did? Well of course you do, because you just got done reading this story! But let me tell you anyway. He said, "Forget that! You're my son! We're gonna have the biggest party this town's ever seen, because you're back!" (Adam Wynn Translation, AWT)

It wasn't exactly a hard decision for this father to make, either. The story goes that the father saw his son coming from a long way off. That means he was looking for him, waiting for him to return. The father was so excited that his son was back that he never dreamed of treating his son anything other than an honored member of the family.

But not everyone was so excited. There was one character who took great insult at this younger son's return, and that was his very own hermano. That's spanish for brother. That's right, the older brother was enraged when he came back to the casa (in my version, apparently this family is Hispanic) to find that their father had killed the fattened calf and started a real party (or fiesta, for those of you worried about continuity). It was clearly a big deal to this older brother. So much so that he whines like a little girl about it to his father. Look what he says here in verse 29-30:

Luke 15:29-30 (NLT)

"All these years I’ve slaved for you and never once refused to do a single thing you told me to. And in all that time you never gave me even one young goat for a feast with my friends. Yet when this son of yours comes back after squandering your money on prostitutes, you celebrate by killing the fattened calf!"

His father's response is priceless, though. He can't understand why this man is so upset that this younger brother has returned. He just looks at him and says:

Luke 15:31-32 (NLT)

“His father said to him, ‘Look, dear son, you have always stayed by me, and everything I have is yours. We had to celebrate this happy day. For your brother was dead and has come back to life! He was lost, but now he is found!’”

That's a pretty good reason to celebrate! They assumed he was dead, they assumed this son of his was long gone, but he was finally back! He was alive!

The same is true when we come to Christ in a broken, humbled spirit. He forgives us and he lets us in to the family. That's a reason to celebrate!

So now on to the dilemma I so not-subtlely alluded to in my title. I, like probably 60+ million Americans, watched the Super Bowl this past weekend. It was a boring start, an interesting half-time, and then a power outage. After the power outage, it looked like the down and out 49ers were going to come back and make a miracle run at it...but fell short. So yes, the thing that most of us Atlanta folks had hoped wouldn't happen happened. The Baltimore Ravens and renowned-but-not-convicted murderer Ray Lewis won his final game in the NFL, the Super Bowl.

And of course, the first thing he said when given the microphone was "If God is for us, who can be against us!" My first thought, of course, was, "So it was God who got you off the hook for that murder rap?" Followed by a couple groans of, "Please shut up, Murderer!"

As you can imagine, I don't much care for Ray Lewis. I remember the trial. I remember the fervor over the deaths of two men in Atlanta, possibly at the hands of Ray Lewis. And I was bitter. I was angry. I kept thinking, "Where is the justice that a man like this can be involved in the deaths of two people and still go on to win the Super Bowl?" It doesn't seem right, you know?

And that brings me to today. You know, most of us like to picture ourselves the protagonist in our own story. That means when we read the story of the Prodigal Son, we like to think of ourselves as the reformed younger son, the one who returns from his wild living to sit at the father's feet. Sure, it's not perfect, but we can't be the father, because that's God, and we don't want to be the curmudgeonly older brother, because he's a jerk. But I started to realize. When it comes to this Ray Lewis debacle, aren't I kinda acting like the older brother? Am I not acting like the one who has all the answers and acted like he never received forgiveness for anything ever? Am I not thinking, "Why him, God? Why not me? Or at least someone a little more virtuous?" The truth is, I don't know Ray Lewis' heart. Only God does.

If you want my personal opinion, I think Ray Lewis is fake. I think he's using the Gospel as a cloak to make him more palatable to people, hoping they'll forget about his prior issues. But you know what the beauty of grace is? My opinion means nothing. The only opinion that matters is what God thinks of Ray Lewis. And I will yield that there is every possibility that Ray Lewis is a changed man. I may not believe it, but I don't have to.

And the same goes for each of us. No one's opinion of me matters except that what God thinks of me. When He looks at me, He sees a man saved by grace, covered by His Son. That's it. He doesn't see my past, he doesn't see my future mistakes. He just sees a soul saved by grace. So even when I start acting like the "older brother" I can sometimes be, God doesn't see that. He forgives it, and He moves on, and He loves me anyway, just like the forgiving Father He is.

If Ray Lewis is fake, then him and God are going to have a not-so-pleasant conversation one day. But. If he's not? Then Heaven celebrates for him, just like it did for me, and for anyone who calls on the name of Christ. I honestly don't know if I can ever get beyond what he did. It's something I'll probably hold a grudge for in the back of my mind for years to come, any time that someone mentions the career of the "Great Ray Lewis."

But it doesn't matter.

To quote the ever incredible Relient K, "the beauty of grace is that it makes life not fair." I always tell myself that if he would just come out and admit to what he did, or if he would just talk about it to the media and give us a clearer picture, maybe I'd forgive him. But he doesn't have to. It doesn't change anything. Do I have to go to the media and talk about all of my past mistakes? I mean, not that they would really care, but seriously? What does it change? If he's for real, then God accepts him and forgives him. And that's good enough for me.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Adam Wynn is a fan of most Georgia sports teams, and as a result was very bitter about this year's Super Bowl all around. When he's not crying due to his unfortunate lot in life to be a fan of teams that will always come so close and yet never win a title, he is the Children's Ministry Coordinator at Mars Hill Baptist Church in Watkinsville, GA and a Part-Time Campus Minister at the Baptist Collegiate Ministries for both the University of Georgia and the University of North Georgia - Oconee. That's a long couple of titles. He is also engaged to the beautiful and intelligent Ivey Nash, the smartest nurse in Rome, GA. He is also the author of the internet sensation Will Baker is Dead. If you've never heard of it...well, that's okay. It really isn't that big of a sensation yet, anyway. He is also currently working on other writing projects that are due out sometime later than today. If you're into that whole social media scene, you can find Adam on Twitter (@42Cobras...go figure) or on Facebook (you don't need help with that one, too, do you?). Adam also has published a short story "Have Souls, Will Travel," available for $1.99 from Amazon for Kindle. He appreciates your business and your readership, but mostly, he appreciates it if you brush your teeth before talking to him, given his low tolerance for bad breath.