Pain

I just finished watching "Cinderella Man" on DVD (Clean Screen version is very nice). What a movie! You don't even have to be a sports fan or a boxing fan to appreciate the greatness of the movie because it's not really about boxing or sports. It's about pain.

Really.

Pain is a powerful and compelling story teller and the life of James J Braddock is definitely powerful and compelling. Born in 1905, he became an average amateur fighter by the mid 1920's. In fact, from April 14th, 1926 to September 25th, 1933 Braddock fought over 60 times but never really faced anyone substantial. Then when he broke his hand against Abe Feldman in '33 his boxing career appeared over.

Enter pain.

Of course in 1933 the Great Depression was in full swing. Braddock was struggling to make ends meet and as a man deeply committed to his wife and his three children, he was bound and determined to survive. He worked the docks with a broken hand and yet the infrequent employment wasn't enough to keep bill collectors away. Food was running scarce, electricity was out, the Winter of '33/34 was settling in hard, kids were sick and things looked less-than-grim for the Braddocks. With few options left, Braddock's hopes were waning and pain's all too familiar story was being told through another victim.

But when, in 1934, a last minute cancellation of a boxing card came up, James' long time promoter and friend, Joe Gould, "smuggled" James back into the ring for a one-time fight against an up and coming champ as a "warm up" for his (John Griffin's) climb to the top. Against all odds, James wins the fight. Then he gets another bout against another would-be champ and another shocking victory to add to his Cinderella like run. A third fight and a third victory suddenly thrust James into an unbelievable position: He was the number one contender for the World Heavy Weight Title.

If you haven't seen the movie you may want to skip the next paragraph:

He wouldn't be called the Cinderella Man if he turned out to be an ugly step sister: James wins his title fight and becomes a true Rocky Balboa -- rags to riches in every sense of the word. But more than just winning a title, he won a people, a people of the Depression who knew nothing but pain. Through his overcoming of the pain, a sense of victory, a sense of hope began to spread among the people of New York and New Jersey. He was the people's champion and he never forgot his roots.

When his boxing career ended, he served admirably in World War II, went back to work on the docks that had sustained him during the Depression, and stayed married to the same woman and lived in the same house until his death (the house they purchased with his prize winnings). He even paid back the government for the money he was given during the depths of his pain.

Pain is inevitable. We are born in pain (I won't bore you with the pain of birth stories but my pastor told a great one last Sunday....Apparently Giraffes drop their young from ten feet! Ouch! Then the mother welcomes her precious little cargo with a series of swift kicks to the chops in order to get the kid to its feet so that it won't be an easy meal for anybody running around with Giraffe meat on the brain. Nothing says "welcome to life" quite like a swift kick to the chops!), and we live our lives navigating fields of pain.

But I'm becoming more and more convinced that it is through pain that we fully experience the beauty and joy of life. How could we be so excited to hear the dentist say, "no cavities" if we haven't experienced the pain of a filling? How could we know the soothing comfort of friends, if we have never experienced the sting of sorrow? How could we know the simple pleasure of eating out if we haven't ever worried about making ends meet? How could we know the magnificence of life if we have never known the great sorrow of death? It seems that it boils down to this principle: Experiencing pain is the key to experiencing life.

Maybe it was that simple principle that motivated Braddock to take advantage of the opportunities given him? Maybe it's not understanding that principle that leads so many people to blow the opportunities given them? (Insert any number of stories about great athletes, performers, musicians, etc... that blew their natural talent because of lousy work ethics, and/or laziness, and/or no appreciation for "the hard life".) I may not like the principle, but I can't ignore it.

Today life is treating me pretty well. But I don't know what tomorrow holds. In fact, I don't even know what the next few minutes will hold for me. I could choose to live in fear of what's around the next corner, but I can't stop it from coming. I could choose to run from pain's big ugly face, but I can't escape. Or, I could choose to put my hope, my faith, in the ONE who knows. HE knows my life, HE knows my future pain, and HE knows the joy, beauty and hope that will come from that pain.

Ultimately it's pretty simple. I guess I could fear the uncertainty of life and spend most of my time dancing around the ring trying to avoid the pain that I will still endure. Or, I could face the certainty of life between the sermons -- the joy AND the pain, the comfort AND the sorrow -- with God in my corner. I know pain will lay a lickin on me from time-to-time, but I also know who's in my corner.

Who's in yours?

ps Read all about Braddock at his official web site: www.jamesjbraddock.com