If I attempt to logic my way out of suffering, I get all muddled and stuck. But when I remember that God is an Author, I have a bit more clarity. It is not as if he revels in our suffering. I can think of few authors who truly love their characters that would not weep at the suffering they must endure. But they must indeed endure it. Because there is something better about it. We come out better – I come out better when I have suffered. And it is about even more than growth. My eyes are fixed on a future where suffering is put to death. The hope that I have now in expectation of that, and the joy that I will feel on that day far surpass anything I could ever have experienced had I never known what it meant to suffer.
Also, side note: I know I said Aeneid. I meant Aeneas. My apologies for such a blunder. Silly fuzzy brain of mine.
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Great translations of the Daodejing and Zhuangzi. And you should really go read At the Back of the North Wind.
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