Is Suffering Desirable?

It was approaching midday and I was entering my 29th consecutive hour of running.

102 miles of stunning scenery had passed beneath my feet. Those feet had propelled my body - and a fully stocked mandatory kit bag - up hills and down dales; conquering craggy climbs and grassy descents; negotiating awkward stiles and rusty gates; skirting around feisty bullocks; and skipping over peat-stained streams. All this had brought me along the Pennine Way from the start line at Edale to mile 102 of the Summer Spine Challenger.

And that’s where my body had had enough.

With barely 7 miles of this pedestrian jaunt left to go, the wide-eyed enthusiasm of the morning before had evaporated like the beads of sweat from my brow. I was staggering agonisingly slowly up Cam High Road and the finish line seemed so impossibly far away.

It wasn’t my beaten-up legs that were of most concern, after all my quads had gone about 50 miles ago and I’d got used to managing that pain. A few miles back, though, I’d begun to feel a little dizzy. I’d noticed, in my brief, monosyllabic exchanges with Rob (a friend I’d made along the way), that words were falling out of my face before my mouth had time to precisely craft them. I knew what I wanted to say and my lungs were capable of expelling the air but my lips and teeth were unable to respond with the necessary agility to bring shape to the sounds before they escaped my body in a drunken splutter. Tiredness, I thought.

It was at this point, though, that I became aware of that I was still wearing my thermal layer from the night before, despite the now baking conditions. Rob, who I could sense from the tone of his voice was becoming a little concerned for me, had suggested a few minutes ago (or was it a few hours ago?) that I might take it off. But I had declined as I was shivering cold. In my confused state I had missed the obvious signs of dehydration setting in.

As I swayed from one side of the trail to the other along mile 102, I was hot, cold, achy, confused, nauseous and sleep deprived. Everything hurt. All I wanted to do was to stop, curl up on the side of the trail and sleep.

I had been pushed way beyond my limit. It was painful in almost every sense. I was suffering.

And it was good.

The view from Cam High Road looking back towards Ingleborough and Whernside

The book of Revelation paints a picture of what future life with God looks like in the new heaven and new earth.

"Look! God’s dwelling place is now among the people… He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away." Revelation 21.3-4

There is clearly much suffering from which we need to be saved. The horrors of cancer. The torment of grief. The anguish of living with chronic pain. These forms of suffering, which are inflicted on us indiscriminately, have absolutely no benefit to us. Even though God can do good work through, or in the midst of, these challenges, there is nothing good for us about suffering in these ways. These are symptoms of our fallen world and a temporary corruption of the created order. The words of Revelation rightly give us hope when we’re going through difficult times because we know that God’s eternal presence with his people signifies the end of such death, mourning, crying and pain. It’s with this knowledge that the Apostle Paul writes to Christians in Rome to encourage them to persist in faith because the suffering they now must endure will be worth it for the ‘glory that will be revealed” (Rom 8.18). This can give us great confidence that our suffering is only temporary, and that relief awaits us through faith in Jesus.

But what if we wanted to suffer?

Stay with me. I don’t ask the question in an unhealthy masochistic sense. But what if some other forms of suffering fall outside of this promise in Revelation? Is it possible that some suffering can add discernible value to our lives?

The Spine Race defines itself as Britain’s Most Brutal. Whilst there is often a lot of hyperbole and self-aggrandisation in race marketing, few would argue with this menacing description. The Spine Race is a 268 mile continuous foot race along the entire length of the Pennine Way from Edale in Derbyshire to Kirk Yethome in Scotland. Whilst there is a summer edition, the “proper” Spine Race takes place in the middle of winter with competitors braving the worst of British weather conditions from high winds and driving rain, to icy paths and energy sapping snow drifts, not to mention the infamously soggy peat bogs. The course covers a total elevation gain of 43,000ft over which competitors are expected to be largely self-sufficient, carrying their own gear between checkpoints which are up to 60 miles apart. The Spine Challenger, described above, is a shorter version which which takes place alongside the big boy race. The Spine is an unpredictable animal and even elite ultramarathon runners regularly come unstuck faced with arduous miles, challenging terrain, and unpredictable conditions. It’s really difficult!

So, why do people do it?

As I write this, applications for the 2023 winter Spine went live and filled up in less than 3 minutes! The brutality of the Spine Race, far from being off-putting, is the precise reason why so many men and women are eager to take part. Participants know full well that they will be pushing their bodies through untold amounts of suffering to have any chance of reaching the finish line. The event is attractive because it is demanding. It is desirable because there is satisfaction to be found in successfully enduring suffering. The adventure is compelling because you genuinely don't know when you stand on that start line whether you will have what it takes to complete the mission ahead.

Simply put, it’s good to do things that are really hard.

And this is true in general life. The student who endures hours of monotonous study to achieve the highest grade they are able. The sleepless mother who labours, in more ways than one, to raise kind and emotionally secure children. The generous volunteer who gives up his limited leisure time to serve the vulnerable in his community. The hard working business woman who grafts for years to successfully develop and launch their product. The child covered in bruises who has finally learned to ride their bike.

We can far too easily be conned into the idea that a good life is a life without obstacle or hardship. But easier isn’t better and excessive comfort can be numbing. Facing and overcoming challenges is one of life’s great pleasures. Suffering, in this sense, is necessary for joy.

Summer Spine Challenger 2021 - At Check Point 1 when everything still felt good!

Back at mile 102, in the depth of physical discomfort, it was a strangely satisfying feeling to know I was pushing myself to new places. Rob helped me take my thermal layer off and he popped an electrolyte tablet in my soft flask of water. He put his hand on my back and literally pushed me up the hill for a few hundred yards as I slowly sipped on the zesty saline solution. Within a mile or so we were grafting out a steady jog along the hilltop path. As we descended towards Hawes we somehow managed to ease into a decent running pace. Feeling absolutely elated we soon crossed the finish line in joint 7th place after around 32 hours of running. What a feeling!

If eternity with God is a good and perfect place, I wonder if we will we be permitted to suffer like this? I hope so. Will we be allowed to run ultras in heaven? Please God, yes! Waiting around on a cloud forever has limited appeal to me and I suspect God has better plans. Could it be that heaven is less a place of eternal rest and more the beginning of a bold new adventure with Jesus? Perhaps when there is no more death, no more grieving, and no more tears we might be free to fully commit to a greater challenge of infinite reward in which we labour alongside our Heavenly Father to fulfil the holy purposes of his Kingdom? And what a joyful adventure that would be.

Let it be on earth today as it is in heaven.