Tag: suffering

Hope for the Suffering

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(Romans 5:1-8)

Here we come across a verse that we would all do well to put into practice a little more often: “And we boast in the hope of the glory of God” (v.2). This is one of those Bible verses that certainly sounds spiritual and like one that we maybe ought to have displayed on some wall art in our home somewhere. But… sometimes we struggle to relate to what verses like this are actually saying.  

Paul doesn’t lack theological jargon in his letters. He uses words and terms that have deep spiritual significance. We have a hard time deciphering the spiritual verbiage and translating it into an understandable application for my life. So what is Paul saying here? I don’t think it’s twisting his words if we take them this way: we rejoice in the confidence of God’s “God-ness.” I know that last one is a made-up word, but we get it, don’t we? Paul is stating that we can find joy in knowing for certain that God is always going to show up, that he is always going to be doing the things that make him God. How do we know? That’s exactly what the “therefore” is there for in the first verse and following.

“Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand” (v.1-2). Pardon a little more theological jargon from Paul, but let’s restate simply what he is saying here, too: we have been declared not guilty of our sins because of all that Jesus did for us, and because we believe that, we have the perfectly peaceful relationship with God and live every second of our lives as the recipients of his fiercely devoted and limitless love. That is your reality right now and tomorrow and until God’s glorious return on the Last Day.

And since that is our reality, we find in it an unparalleled spiritual swagger that more than qualifies us not just to “get through” life, but to maximize our lives, to live them to the full, at all times… even when faced with suffering. 

You knew it was coming, didn’t you? If you looked at the title of this post or paid attention as you read through this section from Romans, you couldn’t miss the word suffering. Let’s go ahead and just acknowledge that that word wouldn’t make the top ten list of everybody’s favorite topics to talk about. And that’s OK. Neither Paul nor God ever says that suffering has to be our favorite. It is never implied that if you don’t get warm fuzzy feelings at the thought of suffering, you are somehow less spiritual or there’s something wrong with you. No, we don’t have to like it, but here’s the thing: we can learn to embrace suffering because of what God will do through it. 

I don’t imagine too many professional athletes relish the grueling hours spent disciplining their bodies in training and practice in the preseason and throughout the regular season. But those who have had the privilege of holding up the championship trophy at the end of the season would – and do! – go through all of it again year after year in pursuit of that end result. 

So it is with suffering in our lives. God doesn’t say you have to look forward to it or love it, but neither does he want us to shy away from it or to loathe it, because he guarantees that he’s always going to do good things in and for us through suffering.

No, we don’t necessarily need God to remove any inconvenient or difficult suffering in our lives; what we need instead is hope to endure it. And God provides that hope in two ways: 1) Hope is ours because of Jesus’ suffering, and 2) Hope is ours because of our suffering.

I. Hope is ours because of Jesus’ suffering

I wrote a moment ago that God guarantees that he’s always going to do good things in and for us through suffering. Could there be any better proof of that than looking to the crucifixion of Christ? It was the single greatest act of undeserved suffering ever experienced in the world, and through it, God brought the greatest good ever in the world: salvation for all people.

Paul delves into it more in the last part of these verses. “You see, at just the right time, when we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly. Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous person, though for a good person someone might possibly dare to die. But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (v. 6-8). Jesus’ suffering stands out so much not only because it was completely undeserved, but also because of those for whom he suffered, described in two ways in these verses: the “ungodly” and “sinners.”

Consider that the next time you try to smooth-talk your sin to someone else or give the “I’m not really sorry” apology. When we try to whitewash our sin, what are we really trying to convince ourselves and others of? Could it be that we’d like to pretend that maybe terms like “ungodly” and “sinners” ought to be reserved only for the really bad folks out there, but that they don’t really apply to us? 

We would like our sin to be like the one or two-day-old container of food in the fridge that may not smell 100% fresh, but it’s still good, still edible. Our sin isn’t like the stuff that got shoved to the back of the fridge for way too long that leaves no doubt about having spoiled once you take off the lid and the sight and smell trigger an instant gag reflex. Surely that’s not our sin. We want to think that our slightly less-than-fresh sin is not nearly as bad as the funky smell of other people’s sin. 

Realize that if we could hypothetically somehow make our sin appear less sinful, then there’s only one conclusion we could arrive at: Jesus didn’t come for us. We don’t need him. What a terrifying thought!

If Jesus didn’t come for us, then we are on our own, and if we’re on our own, though we might completely fool ourselves about our own perceived goodness, our fraud will be exposed for what it is on the last day when Satan eagerly presents his endless volumes of record books tracking our sins. God would have no choice at that point but to be the just God that he is and condemn any who thought they did nothing to deserve condemnation.

Because Jesus didn’t suffer for the slightly sinful. He didn’t die for the sometimes godly. He died for ungodly sinners.

And that alone is where the hope comes from which Paul refers to at the end of verse two. Hope because of Jesus’ suffering is only for the ungodly. It is only for sinners. We remind ourselves of that when we gather each week in worship by starting out the service confessing our sins – reminding ourselves of the ungodly sinners that we are on our own. 

But we do that for a purpose. Not to beat ourselves up or wallow in that guilt for an hour; rather, to set the tone for the hope that Jesus freely gives to ungodly sinners through the suffering of Jesus – hope that is applied to us as we are assured of the forgiveness of sins through the absolution. 

Now what does that hope have to do with your suffering? Everything, friends! Jesus’ suffering means that your suffering will come to an end, no matter what it is. Whether the cause of your suffering is financial, relational, health or work-related, or a direct consequence of your own sin – it doesn’t matter – it will end. But more importantly, the hope we have through Jesus’ suffering means always having something to look forward to. Always. Even chronic suffering is short-lived compared to the hope we have because of Jesus’ suffering, a hope that allows us to look forward to an eternity without any suffering. 

That’s well and good for the future, you might agree, but it may not seem to be all that helpful while we’re in the midst of the severe storms of suffering. That’s why Paul holds out even more hope to us. Hope isn’t just ours because of Jesus’ suffering, but 

II. Hope is ours because of our suffering

God wants to heap more hope on us. How does he do it? Through our suffering. Paul wrote, “Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance;  perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us” (v.3-5). There’s that word glory again. What on earth does it mean for us to “glory” in our suffering? We might better understand what Paul is saying with the word “rejoice” instead of “glory.” In fact, a good number of very reliable Bible translations use the word “rejoice” here instead of “glory.” Although, you might still be wondering if Paul is off his rocker in encouraging us to rejoice in suffering!

But he is not, and he is not because he knows – from first-hand experience, mind you – that God masterfully makes suffering serve our greater good. Only God could do that! Only the God who brought the greatest good out of the greatest suffering of his Son could also use something like suffering to produce a better version of us. And that is exactly what he does. How? 

Look at Paul’s progression: suffering produces perseverance, which produces character, which results in even more hope. 

Let’s break that down, starting with perseverance. This one might be difficult for us to see, as we have a tendency to nostalgically remember our past as if we’re fondly remembering a greeting card, which allows us then to filter out a lot of the turmoil that actually we experienced. But if your memory wasn’t so dishonest with you, you’d actually recall some pretty significant seasons of suffering, some things that, when you were just starting to go through them, seemed insurmountable at the time. They appeared to be way too much for you as the suffering loomed, and you couldn’t see any way through them. 

But what happened? You got through it (or better, God got you through it!). I mean, here you are today. You (God!) persevered. And because you (God!) did, in your own mind, as more time goes by, you don’t even remember how dreadful it was at the time. God brought you through it and you persevered. And each time God does that, each time he pushes you to persevere, you grow. How do we know?

Character is the proof. Perhaps the best way to describe what Paul is pointing out here is that when you persevere through suffering, God changes you for the better. He uses it to shape you and chisel away the character flaws and faults and replace them with faithful fortitude and fearlessness. 

As a Christian, you are not the same Christian you used to be. God has changed you for the better and will keep doing so. Yes, he’ll continue to use suffering to accomplish that, but if he is ultimately building my character as a child of God through it, then bring it on! That will only serve me, serve others, and serve God’s kingdom better in the future. 

Realizing how God does all of that through our suffering adds even more hope. God doesn’t waste suffering. Read that again. God doesn’t waste suffering. He uses it to keep his promises and bring good out of every situation. When I have that confidence – and every one of us reading this can and should – then I have hope. 

You may think the answer to your suffering is for God to remove it. And sometimes that may very well be his solution since he also delights in doing that! But other times it won’t. Other times he will allow suffering to persist because he wants to fill you up with hope – hope that is yours through Jesus’ suffering and through the good that God will work in you through your own suffering. 

Victorious Over Suffering

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(Revelation 1:9-18)

What’s the most painful experience of suffering you’ve ever had? Was it physical or was it an emotionally draining experience? Some of us have sustained multiple significant injuries as a result of a devastating accident, possibly resulting in chronic pain. Severe sickness – or the treatment of it – can lead to pretty serious suffering, too. Maybe the worst bout of suffering came because of financial loss or a relational hardship. It’s a sobering reminder of the reality of this fallen world we call home that we could go on for quite some time sharing stories of personal suffering that we’ve experienced or even are currently in the midst of experiencing.

Then there is the kind of suffering we want to give our attention to in this post: spiritual suffering. What’s been the most painful experience of suffering you’ve had because of who you are in Jesus? I probably tend to diminish this area of suffering because it seems so unfair for us to complain of spiritual suffering when there are Christians in parts of the world who live in daily fear of physical injury or even death because of their faith. They worship Jesus where laws forbid it, resulting in their living under a cloud of constant suffering. 

But we, too, experience spiritual suffering because of Jesus. Relationships have ended or become extremely strained because of how others view our faith or have fallen from it themselves. Hostility or ridicule in the workplace, whether on a small or a large scale, is not uncommon for some of us. Some experience the suffering of spiritual isolation because they are not near any Christian congregations faithful enough to God’s Word with whom they can gather.

We suffer from the frustration of being a part of an increasingly godless society, seeing sin not just tolerated, but celebrated, and it weighs heavily on our hearts. And of course, we will endure seasons of self-inflicted spiritual suffering while we grapple with certain sins that may even threaten to sever our relationship with Jesus. Those times of real testing and struggle pummel us with guilt, even causing us to tiptoe dangerously close to Judas if we despair of our forgiveness and salvation. Yes, we experience very real spiritual suffering on a variety of levels.   

So as John reveals his visions in the book we call Revelation, right away we see that the one writing these words is relatable. He isn’t addressing us as the book-smart expert with no actual experience, but one who has been – and is, even as he writes – in the midst of spiritual suffering. “I, John, your brother and companion in the suffering and kingdom and patient endurance that are ours in Jesus, was on the island of Patmos because of the word of God and the testimony of Jesus” (Rev. 1:9). 

He identifies himself as our “brother” and “companion” – and on what basis? On the basis of suffering as a Christian. He wrote these words while in exile, banished to isolation on an island, not because of insurrection, murder, or genocide, but because he was a Christian. It was “because of the word of God and the testimony of Jesus.”

John lived during the time of guys like Saul – not the first failed Old Testament king, but Saul the persecutor and public enemy number one of Christians before he was converted to that very same Christian faith and became the apostle Paul. There was persecution against Christians on multiple fronts, from both non-Christian religious zealots and the Roman government. John was experiencing real suffering and was writing to Christians in real congregations to uplift them with real hope in the face of real suffering. This hope springs from the Resurrection and the confidence it gives us that Jesus’ victory ensures that we, too, are victorious over suffering. 

What is John’s solution to suffering? “Look at the view!” My family just returned from Yosemite. As we made our way through all the twists and turns and started to come into the Yosemite valley, we suddenly noticed some pretty impressive waterfalls to our left and pulled over to check them out. We all escaped the van to get a closer look. After some “ooohhhing” and “aaahhhing,” eventually someone in our family redirected our view to the road right in front of us and our jaws dropped as we saw the first glimpse of a truly breathtaking view: Half Dome! We had been so singularly focused on a waterfall that we missed the bigger picture – the whole view that included the majestic Half Dome!

This picture of Jesus here in verses 12-15, as well as other portions of Revelation, can grab our attention with their vivid and detailed imagery. We can easily get caught up focusing on one specific descriptive element or another, like a smaller picturesque waterfall, and end up missing out on a far more spectacular view as we fail to see the big picture

Notice who we’re seeing in these verses! This is not the Good Friday Savior who in perfect humility allowed himself to be the ultimate picture of weakness and suffering. There is no groaning, no supposed helplessness; there are no cries of mockery or jeering nearby!

No, this is a picture of the Easter Sunday Jesus, the victorious Jesus, the One who overcame our every enemy and now stands as an imposing picture of power and authority. While the many details of this image of Jesus carry with them a symbolism and figurative meaning (most of which are rather easily discovered by using the rest of the Scriptures), don’t miss the big picture; look at the view! See our victorious Savior in his resurrected and returning glory. He won! We win!

We can miss that important faith builder and confidence booster if we focus painstakingly on the details. It can be like coming across a gigantic work of art in a gallery and being so caught up in the masterful detail and skill in just one small portion of the work of art that we forget to step back and take in the whole picture. See the whole picture John is sharing with us in his vision here. Look at the view! See our victorious Savior!

It certainly left an impact on John. He shared, “When I saw him, I fell at his feet as though dead” (v.17a). Remember this is a vision John is having. He is not yet in heaven, where there will be no fear. He is caught up in a vision from God that depicts in very colorful imagery the victory we have in Jesus Christ. We can hardly imagine our response being any different if viewing this in a vision ourselves!

Then notice something profound that solidifies for us that victory over Satan and our sin is certain. “Then he placed his right hand on me…” (v.17b). God is personal. God cares not just about the world, but about you. The power of personal touch in the face of dread fear is an expression of hope beyond hope! A simple gentle touch from Jesus calms John like no drink or pill or other earthly escape ever could. He is reassured by Jesus’ gentle touch, and even more so by the soothing words that follow.

“Do not be afraid. I am the First and the Last” (v.17c). It’s as if Jesus is saying, “John, you have no reason to fear, for the ‘I AM’ God stands before you, the eternal God who always has been and always will be, neither preceded nor succeeded by anyone.” If he is the First and the Last, then he shall also have the first and the last word. What he says goes. What God promises stands. What Jesus carried out is trustworthy and reliable. There is no one else who can speak with any greater authority. So listen to what he says and to how he reveals himself to John.

“I am the Living One; I was dead, and now look, I am alive for ever and ever! And I hold the keys of death and Hades” (v.18). See how Jesus identifies himself! He calls himself “the Living One,” and not “I was the Living One,” but “I am the Living One.” Good Friday happened. Jesus died. But it is not his death that defines him, but rather that he overcame death, that he is now the living one. “I was dead, and now look (“Look at the view!”) I am alive for ever and ever!” Death has no more part in the storyline. His role has been played and his character killed off, never to return again. Now life rules the day, because of Jesus Christ, the Living One.

How can we be sure? Because he holds the keys! Keys mean control. Keys mean authority. Keys are the power to give or withhold, to open or close, to grant or deny access. And see what keys he holds – the keys over life and death, over heaven and hell!

Ever lose your keys and immediately experience that feeling of dread the instant you realize it? You’re overcome with anxiety over realizing they aren’t in the pocket or purse where you thought they were and immediately fear the worst? You scramble frantically to find them while every possible place they could be is still fresh on your mind. Only after doing so do you think to ask someone else. Then, just as quickly as you were filled with anxiety, you are calmed down by the assurance someone else has them. A flood of relief washes over us.

How much more so to realize the one standing victorious is the one who holds the keys – and not just any keys, but “the keys of death and Hades.” That is to say, Jesus holds the power of life and death!

Now then, with all of this in mind, let us speak again of our Christian suffering. This picture from Revelation changes the conversation just a bit, does it not? No, we will not walk away with the fairy-tale notion that our spiritual suffering will suddenly disappear, as with the waving of some magical wand. We will still suffer specifically because of our Christian faith. Jesus himself promised it.

But it is his greater promises that allow us to endure, to patiently bear up under such suffering. Not the promise that suffering in this life will go away, but the promise that the victory of the Living One outshines our suffering. We are victorious over suffering, and that makes a very real and noticeable impact when we get better at doing in our daily lives exactly what we have done throughout this post: Look at the view!

Stare at your suffering, focus on that, become consumed by it, and it will consume you. 

But when you shift your gaze away from your suffering and onto your Savior, the very one who holds the keys of death and Hades, your suffering seems so much smaller. Because it is. In the grand picture of eternity, the joy of Jesus’ victory of Satan, over sin, and yes, even over suffering, is forever. Your suffering, dear friends in Christ, is not. It is temporary. Let your focus on Jesus’ eternal victory allow you to see more clearly that he has also made you victorious over suffering.