During my last visit to the dentist, I had to get a small filling. The dentist asked whether I wanted local anaesthesia. Before he could even finish explaining how the lower jaw is different from the upper one and all the dental jargon that I have already forgotten, I gave a resounding, “Yes.” It was just a typical reminder of how much I avoid physical pain.I am not the best at handling pain, and some people might even say that I am a little dramatic about it. But to me, given the choice between little or no pain and a little more pain, the answer is always the former.

I have also noticed how, perhaps because I have lived in Europe for so many years (at least that’s what I tell myself), I have become increasingly removed from physical suffering and death. Back in Zambia, I visited sick people in hospital. Sometimes because I knew them, and other times because my church would visit hospitals to clean a ward. I attended more funerals too. That has not been the case during my time in Europe.

Yet pain, suffering, and death, despite how much I avoid them or rarely encounter them, are the very reason I am who I am today.

Although this is the case, I don’t think I truly appreciate it. “Jesus suffered and died” is a phrase so familiar that I often no longer stop to think about what it really means.

Jesus’ suffering was not merely symbolic or emotional. It was physical. He was spat on, struck repeatedly across the face, and flogged until ribbons of flesh were torn from His back and His muscles exposed. “His appearance was so disfigured beyond that of any human being and his form marred beyond human likeness.” Then He was nailed to a cross. Nails – literal nails – pierced His hands and feet. He endured the cruelest form of execution mankind has ever devised.

I cannot imagine that kind of pain. I know I cannot handle even a fraction of it. Jesus did. He did it for you and for me. He did because he loves us. “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.”

I remind myself of this not because I need to seek out suffering unnecessarily or because next time I am at the dentist I should refuse anaesthesia. I remind myself because I am so forgetful. I forget what was paid for my redemption. I forget that someone went through all of this – not in some mythical or wishful sense, but in a real and historical one. Jesus walked this earth. He suffered. He died. And He did so because of my sins and yours.

Next time I am inconvenienced for the sake of the kingdom, may I remember that Someone left heaven for me. Next time I feel like God is asking too much of me, may I remember that He gave me far more than I could ever repay. Next time I fail to do God’s work because my life is too busy or because I am too shy, may I remember what Someone gave up to redeem me. Next time I think it is hard being a Christian, may I look to the cross and remember what following Christ cost Him before it ever cost me.

May the words below be my anthem.

“Oh, to see my name written in the wounds
For, through Your suffering, I am free
Death is crushed to death, life is mine to live
Won through Your selfless love

This the power of the cross
Son of God slain for us
What a love, what a cost
We stand forgiven at the cross”