Dig 

Uncovering the Idols that Control Our Choices 

Chapter 3. The Idol of Comfort

 “Pain does not exist until you feel it, and you feel it in your mind.”  – Dr. Paul Brand

Reader, meet the Idol of Comfort.  I don’t need to introduce it to you because it knows you well.  It knows me well too. 

Over the last several decades, the Idol of Comfort has permeated all aspects of our day-to-day culture.  It has seeped into our bones, whispering to them about their need for ease – their right to it.  The Idol of Comfort has persistently spoken lies to us about how we must avoid any form of distress and how pain must be met with nothing less than prayers, pills, and holy water.

A short stint in front of the television will host rounds of advertisements for different brands and methods for reducing pain and minimizing discomfort.  From common cold medicine to headache remedies, Icy Hot for sore muscles, and ads for comfy beds, sofas, chairs, and cars, we will not permit any kind of discomfort, in any way, if we can help it. 

Avoiding pain is so much a priority in our culture, The National Library of Medicine estimated US pain management cost the country 309 billion dollars in 2010. 

The value challenge exposes what we worship by helping us clearly see how we spend our most valuable resources – time and money.  If 309 billion dollars are spent each year on the avoidance of pain, we may conclude that in the US, we worship the Idol of Comfort. 

Dr. Paul Brand was a lifelong medical practitioner who specialized in the treatment of pain.  He spent twenty-seven years serving in India, twenty-five in England, and twenty-seven more in the US.  He makes a notable observation about the difference between India and the US when it comes to pain:   

“In that land [India] of poverty and omnipresent suffering I learned that pain can be borne with dignity and calm acceptance…

Later in the United States, a nation whose war for independence was fought in part to guarantee a right to ‘the pursuit of happiness,’ I encountered a society that seeks to avoid pain at all costs.  Patients lived at a greater comfort level than any I had previously treated, and they seemed far less equipped to handle suffering and far more traumatized by it.” 

It’s not a great look for us, is it? 

Though my thesis is not that we must endure persistent suffering at all times, my hope is that we may take a closer look at our current relationship with pain – or, more specifically, that we may consider our personal and cultural worship of the Idol of Comfort. 

We will explore how the comfort god rules our daily lifestyle choices, but first, let us consider how the choice to worship comfort impacts us in less concrete expressions. 

Conversationally, for instance. 

How often we dance around a needed conversation because of its potential to make us uncomfortable. 

A relationship teetering on the edge of a cliff; a marriage dynamic that needs to be addressed; something we are desperate to say out loud – there are so many conversations we neglect, simply because they’re uncomfortable.  

Maybe a child needs to be held accountable.  Maybe a friend is being continually dishonoring.  Maybe grades are slipping, or a new substance abuse has appeared; maybe flirtation comes easier; maybe someone has hurt you; or you’ve hurt someone; or maybe little deceits are being exposed. 

Some of these conversations are long overdue and screaming to be vocalized, but we’ve become very adept at pushing them aside.  

But the problem with the push aside is that we miss the reconciliation.  We lose the freedom from our hurts and the relief of forgiveness.  We neglect the choice to coach our kids up because we want them to like us.  We lose the chance to refine our relationships and we don’t work through the unescapable hard parts of marriage, family, and friendships. 

All this sacrifice because we simply cannot experience discomfort.  

Consider how we powder our images to avoid the discomfort of being perceived differently. 

Maybe that’s expressed in an egregious credit card spend so we can go on vacation with everyone else.  It would be more uncomfortable to admit we’re not financially able to keep up, so we go anyway, spending money we don’t have, just to avoid the discomfort of admitting the truth. 

The need to be perceived a certain way may show up in fashion, body image, or the value of a home or car.  The discomfort of being different is too much, so we pay the cost – no matter the sacrifice, no matter the time spend, and no matter the level of authenticity or integrity we keep. 

It’s fascinating to watch this happen in groups of early-mid teenagers.  Next time you’re in a public space watch for groups of teenagers.  Most especially with groups of girls, you’ll notice that they all wear the same thing.  They may not be the same color, but groups will have agreed beforehand to wear the same general outfit – sundresses and tennis shoes; jeans and crop tops; ripped up shorts and baggy tees. 

To be different is to be uncomfortable.  And we have very little capacity for uncomfortable, so we have very little capacity for being different. 

Even in non-conformist groups like goths, the foundational idea is to be different from the culture, however one may easily spot a gothic individual because they all dress the same way.  It’s interesting, isn’t it, that even in our own manifested expressions of individualism, we find safety in groups that will look the same as us, choose the same as us, and behave the same as us. 

To be different is to be uncomfortable.  And we have very little capacity for uncomfortable. 

What comes to mind are Jesus’ words to His disciples:

“I have told you these things so that in me, you may have peace.  In this world you will have trouble.  But take heart!  I have overcome the world.” John 16:33

Somewhere along the line we forgot that we are not promised comfort, ease, or even our nation’s great guarantee of the right to pursue happiness. 

We are promised trouble.  And we are given peace if we choose it.  But we are not promised comfort. 

In his book, The Gift of Pain, Dr. Brand writes of a war hero who saved multiple comrades from a hot zone while both of his legs were broken.  The solider not only risked his life to pull the others to safety, but he did it while he was severely injured.  Later, while recovering in the hospital, that same war hero became the nuisance of the ward because of his fear of the pain from needles.  He kicked and screamed and woke everyone up, dripping in sweat and breaking out of hospital restraints to avoid the poke. 

When Dr. Brand discussed the behavior with the solider-turned-patient, the man said this:

“There’s a lot more going on out there [in the battlefield] – the noise, the flashes, my buddies around me.  But here in the ward, I have only one thing to think about all night in bed:  that needle.  It’s huge, and when the nurse comes down the row with her tray full of syringes, it gets bigger and bigger.  I just can’t take it!”

Dr. Brand eventually concluded of the soldier one very simple concept that is reiterated throughout the book in several examples: pain takes place in the mind.  Nowhere else. 

He writes,

“Pain seems like something done to us, though in reality we have done it to ourselves, manufacturing the sensation.  Whatever we might conceive of as ‘pain’ occurs in the mind… Pain is always a mental or psychological event, a magician’s trick the mind knowingly plays on itself.”

Dr. Brand goes further to explain the neurological pathways that deliver pain sensations to our body, and how much of a gift those pain sensations are.  Having spent decades working with leprosy patients, whose lame pain sensors allow them to walk on broken limbs and withstand infections until they lose their extremities, Dr. Brand values pain more than most.  He finds it a treasure.  A gift like few others. 

I wonder what might change in our culture and in our day-to-day lives if we started to treasure discomfort, instead of hiding from it. 

MOVEMENT

Avoiding perceived discomfort by avoiding movement is one of our favorite ways to hide from pain.  Expressions of this appear not only in our lack of exercise or ‘active minutes’ in a week, but also in our business strategies, commercial products, marketing, and community infrastructures. 

Businesses strategize toward what’s most convenient for the consumer, what will be the easiest to access, purchase, and repeat.  Home delivery services are a prime (LOL, get it?) example of business models and strategies that are specifically designed to provide comfort for the consumer through the elimination of movement.  Is it convenient?  Absolutely.  What it necessary when the pandemic hit?  Of course.  I use this example for the purpose of furthered understanding that our cultural worship of comfort can be found in every crevice of the squishy couch we lay upon.    

Consider how the Idol of Comfort has informed our infrastructure and architectural designs.  Whereas other countries, European countries especially, have designed their spaces for movement (e.g. biking, walking, hiking, etc.), the US has designed its spaces with escalators, elevators, moving walkways, roadways, drive thrus, and curbside/home deliveries.  Every movement choice that can be replaced with an automated system that requires little to no effort from the user is prioritized. 

And the Idol of Comfort isn’t done yet.  As it pertains to movement, the comfort god does a lot more than just steal our steps and save us calories we don’t need.  It is also systematically eradicating our interactions with living, breathing people.  Every online shopping choice, home grocery delivery, virtual meeting, or text from the basement to the person upstairs is shutting down our ability to have healthy social interactions. 

(Pause: in some cases, these services are necessary and I’m thankful for them.  I’m talking about otherwise fully capable situations in which we choose the easy option solely for our own comfort.) 

Exercise is a fascinating irony for the comfort god.  We don’t do it because we don’t want to experience discomfort, while it is, in truth, the primary tool for avoiding pain, discomfort, and disease in the long-term. 

Exercise requires time.  We may be sore after.  We’ll have to sweat.  It will be uncomfortable. 

These are all excuses that prioritize our personal comfort over the stewardship of our bodies.  However, the strain, force, and pressure placed on our bones, muscles, and joints during movement make us stronger, more mobile, and in the long-term, freer of pain.  At the same time, exercise aids us mentally, emotionally, spiritually, and socially. 

Our bodies are designed to move.  We flourish when we move, in every way.  Our avoidance of movement because of our perceived need for comfort is perhaps one of the most dangerous lies we believe when it comes to the stewardship of our bodies.  

Somehow the Idol of Comfort started to convince the world that less movement is equal to a better life, an easier one – a more comfortable one – and that is a dangerous lie to believe.  If adopted, repeatedly choosing no movement for our perceived comfort will end in health challenges and much higher levels of pain than one would experience through thirty minutes at the gym, or a short hike, or a few hours shopping in a mall, or a morning swim.  

The next time a movement choice tempts us to the couch instead of the pavement, consider how the Idol of Comfort may be at work.  Perhaps positioning our decision making toward stewardship of the one body we get may help us choose differently.  

FOOD

The Idol of Comfort shows up in our food choices in a few different ways, but the most obvious is in our use of fast-food restaurants.  Not always, but in most cases the food options offered at these joints are not the options that will steward our bodies well.  But we choose them anyway, at alarming frequencies because they’re convenient, fast, cheap, and easy.  It would require more effort, more time, and more cleaning to prepare food at home, so we choose for comfort and convenience, instead of for stewardship. 

And listen, sometimes, the fast-food option is the only choice.  The kids are insane, the kitchen’s being redone, the workday has allowed for no time – there are instances when a stop through the local Taco Bell is the only option that will work.  I’m not referring to those instances.  I’m referring to when we drove through for breakfast, and then went out to lunch, and then find ourselves going three, four, five times a week for dinner.  This is when we can be sure that the Idol of Comfort is ruling our food choices.  We are simply choosing our food for convenience instead of choosing for the care of our bodies.

Commercials target our tendency toward comfort and convenience when it comes to food as well.  Millions of dollars and gitchy tunes posit quick and easy choices like high-sugar cereals, pop tarts, and pizza deliveries as the prized food choices for the day.  When these choices become commonplace, we forget what they’re doing to our bodies on a daily basis. 

Although fast-food nutrition has improved over the last few years, it should still be examined when we are consuming it as frequently as we are.  The most critical piece to consider may be sodium.  Sodium intake is directly related, and therefore has much to do, with our country’s epidemic of high blood pressure.  A quick glance at a fast-food breakfast compared to a meal prepared at home will help us visual what repeated trips through the drive thru is doing to our bodies. 

These facts don’t make fast-food or quick meal options things we can never do, but they can, however, help inform our decisions the next time we have a choice.  

Another place we’ll find the Idol of Comfort as it relates to food is in our culture’s lack of engagement in the practice of fasting.  Whether intermittent fasting for health reasons, fasting before medical procedures, or fasting for spiritual reasons, the practice is a rarity and oddity.  Nearly every world religion and culture fasts regularly except the US.  I have to wonder if this is part of Dr. Brand’s observation of the our inability to tolerate suffering.  

Fasting is hard.  It creates nagging discomfort that does not go away.  It is a moment-by-moment reminder that we are not satisfied.  In a culture of over-indulgence, it is a glaring opposition, purposefully creating a deficit we choose not to address.  It is a physical challenge, sure, but more than anything it is a mental pursuit and a spiritual journey.  Fasting breaks our food dependencies and helps us see differently and experience life differently.  It reprioritizes the day, because food, which used to be near the top of the list, is no longer there.  It frees up time and money, it clears the mind, and it allows us to experience all the things our bodies can endure, if only we would allow them.  

Fasting is a practical way to create discomfort on purpose, and to learn how to bear discomfort with calm acceptance.  

But, it’s uncomfortable.  So, again, we don’t do it.  

TECHNOLOGY

The Idol of Comfort not only informs what food we consume it also informs how we consume it.  The meal around the table without a television or cell phones has become a thing of fables and stories from generations past – an ideal just out of reach. 

But the truth is, it’s not an ideal out of reach.  It’s an ideal we aren’t willing to materialize because we prefer comfort to connection. 

Whatever the food, the method for consuming it more often than not involves passive entertainment in front of the Almighty Screen.  Whether it be hand-held or wall-mounted, it’s on, it’s loud, and it’s stealing time connecting with the ones we say matter most to us. 

Who of us can’t relate to the atrociously long day and the call of comfort from our favorite spot on the couch?  Cut on a comedy, kick the chair leg out, position the plate just-so in your lap and shut off the brain.  There’s something really nice about all that.  It’s lovely.  It’s comfortable.  And sometimes, I think it’s necessary. 

Not unlike the fast-food choice, sometimes, that’s all life allows.  The meal in front of the television falls in the same bucket.  A night of this every so often is not destructive beyond repair.  It’s the habitual tick to 5:30 PM that expects to be in front of the television with meal in hand.  It’s the not even thinking about connecting with the people in our homes.  It’s the meal in a restaurant in which we never say a word to the person across the booth because we’re on our phones.  This is when the Idol of Comfort has overcome our choices because once again, we’ve chosen our own perceived ease over connection, communication, or conversation. 

“Therefore, since Christ suffered in His body, arm yourselves also with the same attitude, because whoever suffers in the body is done with sin.”  1 Peter 4:1 

Christ’s suffering was much more than any of us will ever experience, but the point is that it is not our inherent right to be comfortable. 

The Idol of Comfort lies. 

Our life for comfort has become our worst enemy in the fight for health.  But what remains most ironic is that the ‘comfort’ we pursue now, is literally leading us to a very uncomfortable future.  Our comfort choices today are creating diabetes, obesity, high cholesterol, high blood pressure and a plethora of orthopedic issues.  And all of these will come with ample amounts of discomfort in the future – physically, financially, emotionally, and mentally.   

I can’t help but reflect on Dr. Brand’s leprosy patients walking around on festering, open wounds.  Patients with cuts, broken bones, and infections that sent no pain signals. 

What damage is done when we don’t feel pain!  We need it.  Our bodies require it.  It’s how we know to pull our hand away from an open flame or how to not put pressure on a broken ankle.  We have villainized one of God’s most valuable gifts to us. 

It’s going to be a journey, but I wonder what would happen to us as individuals, and as a country, if we started to actively embrace discomfort. 

May we all work toward being people who can suffer discomfort with dignity; who can tolerate suffering with calm; and who actively engage in hard things to bring about better versions of ourselves and the people around us. 

This is not going to be easy.  But we don’t need easy, do we. 

Nic Ford