Shared Sufferings (not really)

I certainly understand why many Americans can be perceived as “Ugly Americans” with all the whining and general complaining of which many of us are guilty. Several men from the States (not to be confused with North America which includes our Canadian friends) desired their own rooms because they felt that the snoring they did would keep others awake. We women felt pretty smug that we didn’t mind rooming together, but that the men did.

When we arrived into our second place of lodging where we’ll spend more than a week, I was sweating like a fat pig (one of my mother’s sayings). I began to inwardly doubt that I could manage, much less sleep in such an environment when someone in the smoldering room discovered a ceiling fan, and then an air conditioner somewhat hidden from our view. I nearly danced on the bed. I got so excited. I had already digressed into visions of India where I spent 6 weeks summer before last. “Sweat” is an understatement.

It was then that God brought to mind how prideful we women had felt about not complaining. It’s always easier to compare our sins to someone else’s, when there really is no degree of sin. And then it was in Philippians, Chapter 2, that I was reading this morning I became convicted of my suffering being so minimal compared to that endured by Christ on the cross. I really have no idea of suffering. Sure, I’ve been through difficult times, but nothing compared to Jesus’ death. This week I’m expecting my African brothers and sisters to teach me more about suffering.