"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.