Thank goodness really bad news only happens to other people—a missing child, a serious accident, or illness. We always know someone who has suffered or is suffering deeply, but rarely do we ponder the possibility that we will become someone else’s “other person” story.
Have you heard the one about the young father who went to the hospital to have his appendix out and discovered that he had cancer? I’ll bet not in his wildest dreams did he think that he would be the “other person.” But it happened. Imagine moment when the surgeon delivers the news and you feel like you’ve been compressed into the ground with a ten tonne anvil—when you’re whole being is filled with fear, and dread, and regret. It really happened—to me.
On April 19, 2006 I became the “other person” for so many people—maybe for you. To be honest, it’s a distinction I’d rather not have. Famous among dozens is good enough for me. I really didn’t need the attention. But, sometimes you pray a prayer without really thinking of the possibilities.
“God, I feel stuck spiritually. Increase my faith.”
If you pray that, don’t be surprised when it gets answered. I have a feeling that’s one of those prayers that God always answers with, “Sure thing.”
Suffering is a part of life. Whether it’s because of our proximity to sin, or our pursuit of holiness, we will all suffer. That is the reality of living in a fallen world. Being a Christian doesn’t exempt us from suffering. We might be citizens of another kingdom but we’re still mucking around this place. God is in the redemption business, not the make-your-whole-life-turn-out-exactly-as-you-want-it-to business—and God can redeem suffering.
What good can possibly come from suffering, you say? Well, first let’s throw out the hackneyed phrases that roll off our tongue so easily, so often: “All things come together for good for those that love the Lord,” “Don’t worry, it’ll all work out fine,” etc. They sound really good and Christian, but let’s face it, when you become the “other person” they’re pretty hard to swallow. The truth is, you might never see any good come of it, and it might not all work out fine—at least not on this side of eternity.
So how do we see suffering as good or as James writes, “pure joy,” with this in mind?
I’ve discovered that James was not being trite when he opened his letter with those words. He was writing as a man who knew his God well. Did you know that in the first sixteen verses of the book of James over ten attributes of God are revealed? James knew that suffering takes on a different meaning when we see it in the shadow of the Almighty. But often, when your heart is wrecked and you fall on your knees and bare your anguished soul you discover that you barely know the God you’re talking too. Suffering reveals. It refines. It burns away the other stuff of life so it’s just you and God. This is where suffering is redeemed.
This is where the most desperate and desolate time of my life became my own personal Isaiah moment, “Woe to me!…I am ruined! For I am a man of unclean lips…my eyes have seen the King, the LORD Almighty.”
We can’t honestly consider suffering to be pure joy until we know the God who uses it for our sanctification—our glorification. And not only for ourselves, but for the community of Christians that surround us and enter into that suffering and show their deep love and affection, modeling Christ in their actions. To truly know God, to meditate on His attributes is the way of the psalmist and the way of the child of God who can say,
“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. Surely goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the LORD forever.”
A lot of people repeat those words in times of trouble as if they are some sort of mystical incantation—a last ditch effort to conjure the divine. What they are, I’ve discovered, is the declaration of a man who knew the object of his faith with great intimacy—a man after God’s own heart. J I Packer wrote in his book Knowing God, “What makes life worth while is having a big enough objective, something which catches our imagination and lays hold of our allegiance; and this the Christian has, in a way that no other person has. For what higher, more exalted, and more compelling goal can there be than to know God?”
I like that idea. What makes life worth while is not our status, or our job, or our wealth, or even our health. It’s God—so simple and yet so easy to miss. I'm not suggesting that I would choose cancer over health. But I am grateful for the revealing work of God in my life. I am grateful for an answer to my prayer.
