Seven Right Responses to Suffering

 

Suffering 24

Note: I am offering a ten hour Zoom class on hermeneutics on Monday nights from March 20 to April 17. It will run from 7 PM to 9 PM Central Time. It is designed for anyone who teaches in a volunteer capacity in a local church. There is no charge for the class. You will receive a 50 page syllabus and a 90 page assigned reading course. Because everything for the class functions via email I do need you to register with your email address if you are interested, even if I already have that email for some other reason. Any questions, feel free to let me know.  

          Suffering is only occasionally self-caused. More often, it is caused by someone else and impacts you. We likened this to how a rowboat must respond to the waves coming from a large rock hurled into the pond from shore. Last week, we examined nine ways not to respond. Today, we are going to look at seven ways we should respond. Suffering is coming; here is how you ought to respond.

Prayer

          Prayer, as John R. Rice famously said, is asking. Prayer is also often just enjoying the Lord’s company. Prayer ought to be praise, much more than it is. But in addition to these, prayer is taking the grief of your heart and pouring it out to the Lord. Cast thy burden upon the Lord, and he shall sustain thee (Psalm 55.22). I poured out my complain before him: I shewed before him my trouble (Psalm 142.2).

          Venting to your friends brings a feeling of catharsis, and the temporary emotional support of sympathy. Prayer takes that a step farther by doing all of that plus the addition of strength. Jesus did it. Job did it. Joseph did it. Moses did it. David did it. Jeremiah did it. Habakkuk did it. And you and I ought to do it.

          The waves are advancing rapidly toward your fragile craft. What should you do?

          Pray.

Trust 

          I just urged you to pray in response to suffering, but sometimes you cannot pray. In my experience this happens when I feel like God is the one responsible for my pain. Other times, this occurs when I feel as if I have already taken this burden to Him a million times; what is to be gained by voicing my grief again? On rare occasions, I have not been able to summon any words at all; all I can do is kneel there, weeping brokenly. I have learned, though, that even in such times I can still trust Him. Trust in him at all times; ye people, Pour out your heart before him: God is a refuge for us. Selah (Psalm 62.8).

          In such times, this is what I tell God. “I’m mad at you, though I know I have no right to be. I do not understand at all what you are doing. I am weary with bringing this to you again. But underneath all the ferment of my feelings I trust You. I have to; I have nowhere else to go.”

          As an old saint said, when you cannot trace His hand you can trust His promises. He is too good to be unkind and too wise to make mistakes. Trust in that goodness. Trust in His reasons, that He is working all of this to good purpose. And trust His timing. He is never late.

Brokenness 

          Some of you reading me today will not understand this, but the psalmist would. I am feeble and sore broken: I have roared by reason of the disquietness of my heart (Psalm 38.8). Thou hast sore broken us (Psalm 44.19). The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit: A broken and a contrite heart, O God, thou wilt not despise (Psalm 51.17).

          One of the most difficult messages I have ever given was to a local pastor’s fellowship on the text, And whosoever shall fall on this stone shall be broken (Matthew 21.44). Brokenness, however, is not something only pastor’s experience; it is something saints experience.

          In the original language, broken in the above text means shattered. It is to be crushed, to be heartbroken, to be in despair, to be ground into the dust.

          In the main Bible I used during my college days you will find this poem in the front flyleaf:

A crystal mirror, I;

Fate flung me, how prosaic, in the dust.

Now shattered here I lie.

Dear God, please help me try

To be a rare mosaic, in the dust.

          C. H. Spurgeon said something similar in his own inimitable way.

Oh, what a mercy it would be if some of you were broken all to pieces! There are many flowers that will never yield their perfume till they are bruised. Even the generous grape lets not its juice flow forth till it is trodden under foot of men. Breaking and bruising are fit treatment for the nature of men, especially for the new nature. When God has put sweetness into our hearts, it is then that breaking develops the sweetness. Oh, to worship God in spirit and in truth! One has well said, “No one ever worshipped God with his whole heart unless he worshipped him with a broken heart.”

          Let him break you. Do not fight Him. From the shattered remains He will shine forth all the brighter.

Joy 

          I have quoted the psalmist often in this series. If anyone in the Bible besides Jesus understood suffering it was him. Yet that same psalmist understood joy. Rejoice in the Lord, O ye righteous: For praise is comely for the upright (Psalm 33.1).

          So did Isaiah. As an old man, enduring the awful reign of Judah’s worst king, the murderous Manasseh, he wrote, I will greatly rejoice in the Lord, My soul shall be joyful in my God; For he hath clothed me with the garments of salvation, He hath covered me with the robe of righteousness, As a bridegroom decketh himself with ornaments, And as a bride adorneth herself with her jewels (Isaiah 61.10).

          So did Habakkuk. After enunciating in excruciating detail all that his country would endure at the hands of a righteously indignant God he said, Although the fig tree shall not blossom, Neither shall fruit be in the vines; The labour of the olive shall fail, And the fields shall yield no meat; The flock shall be cut off from the fold, And there shall be no herd in the stalls: Yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will joy in the God of my salvation (Habakkuk 3.17-18).

          So did Paul. Shivering in the bowels of a Roman prison, probably shackled to rotating teams of guards, looking death square in the eye, he penned these immortal words: Rejoice in the Lord alway: and again I say, Rejoice (Philippians 4.4).

          Beloved, when everything around you is awful and everything inside of you is broken, He is still God. His attributes are unchanged and His Word is still true. The weeping prophet, well named, wrote, Heal me, O Lord, and I shall be healed; save me, and I shall be saved: for thou art my praise (Jeremiah 17.14). When you cannot rejoice in a single thing about your life, you can still rejoice in Him.

Peace

          During the coronavirus pandemic, I wrote a lengthy blog series about peace. I will not here reiterate it, but I do want to mention it. When your boat is rocking up and down as the waves of suffering threaten to swamp your craft, ask Him for His peace.

Absorb

          About twenty-five years ago, a major safety innovation began to be designed into cars for the first time – crumple zones. The hood and the trunk were purposely engineered to fold up, accordion style, in order to absorb as much force as possible from an accident. In the years since, uncounted lives have been spared or spared from serious harm.

          Many of the people who cause suffering in others do so because they endured suffering themselves. Most abusers were themselves abused when they were younger. Broken people often cut. Hurting people often hurt. Mangled people often mangle. Broken people often break others.

          Do not be like those people. When damage comes into your life, absorb it. Do not pass it on to those around you.

          Perhaps the best biblical example of this is David. Saul hurled spears at him, literally, and hunted him down like a dog. Yet when David became king he refused to become an abusive, authoritarian despot like Saul became. He absorbed what Saul threw at him. In the process, he protected his family and his kingdom in ways they never even grasped let alone understood.

          It will cost you more than you want to pay to absorb suffering, and the better you do so the less the people around you will even notice. Absorb anyway.

Radiate

          The Mojave Desert is beautiful, especially at sunrise or sunset. During the heat of the day it is brutal, but the bookends of that brutality are breathtaking. As the sun sets, and the desert plunges into blackness the air temperature swiftly plummets. Yet the sand for quite some time still retains the warmth of the sun, and silently radiates that heat back out.

          Paul, in telling the Corinthians about God, said, Who comforteth us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort them which are in any trouble, by the comfort wherewith we ourselves are comforted of God (I Corinthians 1.4). Absorb the pain, yes. But radiate outward to all within your embrace the faith, peace, comfort, and joy you have found in the Lord.

          The sweetest Christians I know are the ones who have suffered the most, in whom the Lord has plowed His deepest furrows. But the fruit that has grown in their life as a result is marvelous, and everyone around them shares in its blessing. Our Saviour, with His life leaking from His battered body, suffering for your sin and mine, ministered to those around Him on that cross.

          Be like Jesus, Christian, be like Jesus.

Nine Wrong Responses to Suffering

 

Suffering 23

        

 

          Suffering is generally caused externally. In other words, with the exception of consequences, suffering does not begin because we cause it. Lets say you are in a boat drifting lazily between some lily pads on a pond. Suddenly, from the shore, someone heaves an enormous rock into the water just to the left of your bow. You did not throw the rock, but you do have to deal with the waves. Next week, we will look at good ways to respond to suffering but today I want to begin on the negative side of the equation. As I see it, there are nine bad responses to suffering. Here they are; do not do them.

Surprise

          Your parents are going to age and eventually die. Along the way, they very well may enter a long, slow, painful decline. Your children are going to make decisions you disagree with. Your pastor is going to misunderstand you and consequently mistreat you. Your friends are not going to notice how difficult life is for you. Your employer is going to fire you. Your body is going to fall apart. Your dreams are going to go up in flames. Your world is going to attack what you believe in and stand for. Someone is going to gossip about you behind your back. Someone is going to criticize you fiercely and publicly. Someone is going to accuse you falsely. Your money is going to run out just when you need it most. Your service for the Lord will go unnoticed and unthanked.

          “Boy, Pastor Brennan, you’re depressing today.”

Not at all. I just do not want you to be surprised when it happens. For verily, when we were with you, we told you before that we should suffer tribulation; even as it came to pass, and ye know (I Thessalonians 3.4). One of the primary reasons I am doing such a lengthy series on suffering is to prepare those I love for it when it comes. Because it will come.

Surprise is a bad response.

Accusation 

          Very rarely, do the people who hurt you intend to hurt you. There are evil people in the world; I accept that. But most of the people you and I interact with are not evil. Sinners? Yes. Evil? No. But as sinners their decisions, actions, and words will bring suffering to you, a suffering that is not imaginary, but they were not trying to make you hurt.

          The human problem here from a reaction standpoint is that lashing out at people who hurt us makes us feel better – temporarily. Yet we should not. Charity suffereth long, and is kind (I Corinthians 13.4).

          Not only should we not respond to suffering by accusing people we should not accuse God either.

          You see this all through Job, for example. In a sense, I accept and agree with it. We ought to pour our heart out to Him even if that heart is so hurt at the moment all we can do is blindly lash out at Him. (Always remember, most people do not respond logically while undergoing extreme suffering; they respond emotionally.) But in a larger sense, I disagree with it. Perhaps I should say it this way: when your head clears in the morning, when you are rational again, do not accuse God of unfairness or injustice. He is not evil.

          Nay but, O man, who art thou that repliest against God? Shall the thing formed say to him that formed it, Why hast thou made me thus? (Romans 9.20)

Anger

          It may be one of the stages of grief but that does not mean it should be. We get angry at God for allowing it. We get angry at the friend, parent, child, or coworker we think caused it. We get angry at the company we work for, at the traffic, at the government, at the media. We get angry at how life has turned out. We get consumed with anger until the anger possesses us as surely as the demons possessed the maniac of Gadara. Suffering people often become angry people. That anger goes to the core of their being, settles in, and breeds all sorts of mischief. 

          The Puritans used to preach a concept called resignation. This is similar to the more modern concept of acceptance but more spiritual. It says, in essence, “God has apparently decreed this for me for this stage of my life; I accept His will; I am resigned to His work in me.”

          Job is a precious example of this. But he said unto her, Thou speakest as one of the foolish women speaketh. What? Shall we receive good at the hand of God, and shall we not receive evil? (Job 2.10) Naked came I out of my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return thither: The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; Blessed be the name of the Lord (Job 1.21). As was our Saviour Himself. Then said Jesus unto Peter, Put up thy sword into the sheath: the cup which my Father hath given me, shall I not drink it? (John 18.11)

          Do not be angry; be resigned.

Bitterness 

          I think I see this more than any other wrong response. It is so instinctually human. I am also conscious I fight it in my own heart. I always will. The root of bitterness is ever springing up (Hebrews 12.15).

          Bitterness springs from a sense of injustice. “I was hurt and it wasn’t fair; I didn’t deserve it.” Alternatively, “I was hurt and the one who hurt me has gotten away with it; that’s not fair.” Like accusation, this starts as a bitterness against people and proceeds to become a bitterness against God.

          The best word I can think of to associate with bitterness is destruction. Bitterness is eminently destructive. I am thinking right now of one particular wife of my acquaintance who is bitter at her parents. That bitterness has now driven away, in addition to her parents, her sisters, her in-laws, and one of her own adult children. It will only continue to wreak havoc so long as she harbors it.

          Bitterness becomes the taste that is always on your palate; nothing is sweet anymore.

          Bitterness becomes the only lens through which you see anything. Everyone and everything becomes suspect as you blame everyone in your past for every little thing that ever sat wrong with you. And you become an old, bitter, dried up husk of a person.

          Do not get bitter.

Envy 

          The sweet psalmist of Israel struggled with this, and expounds on it most movingly in Psalm 37 and its reverse, Psalm 73. In his case, it was seeing the prosperity of the wicked. For I was envious at the foolish, when I saw the prosperity of the wicked (Psalm 73.3). Envy, however, is bigger than that. It is not just envy at the prosperity of the wicked but an envy of everyone around you who is enjoying what has so cruelly been denied you.

          Bitterness is what I see most often in others as they respond to suffering, but envy is what I see most often in myself. Do ye think that the Scripture saith in vain, The spirit that dwelleth in us lusteth to envy? (James 4.5) As my college days ended without obtaining that mysterious be all and end all known as a wife, envy grew in me. I looked around at all of my friends happily driving off for their honeymoon and I was envious. For many years, while living in Chicago, I could not afford to buy a home. I struggled with envy of those who could and did. At this stage of my life the spirit of envy in me is different. I look at those who can drive or travel without any apparent difficulty and then be perfectly normal once they arrive and I fight envy. Meniere’s Disease has robbed me of that, along with so much else.

          We so often get our eyes off of the Lord, beloved, distracted by the very blessings He so bounteously bestows on others. If you are in the Lord’s will you have Him. And He is the point; He is better than any of His gifts.

          Let us work at being happy for other people who have what we do not. Let us work at being content with what God has given them and denied us. Let us work at being grateful for His provision to us. Let us work at being enamored of Him.

          …but let us not be envious.

Guilt

          There is subtlety in the devil’s temptations sometimes, and here is one of those times. We do sin, and that sin has consequences. We do sin, and God does convict us of that sin. We do sin, and God does punish us as a result of that sin. But that does not mean that your child died because you did not witness to enough people last year.

          Conviction is a present thing; guilt is a past thing. The devil deals in guilt. God deals in conviction. David was blatantly rebellious and wrong when God took his son’s life. If you, though, have made something right already, and if you are sincerely following after the Lord, you need to realize that blaming yourself is not a healthy thing.

          Let me return to a moment to my old foe, Meniere’s Disease. I think (not know) that God has allowed me to have it as a check on my pride. If I am right about that, sometimes my thought process becomes… “Tom, you have Meniere’s Disease because of your pride. Your family suffers terribly right along side of you and has for years putting up with your disease. If you would just learn your lesson God would take it away and they wouldn’t have to suffer your disease.”

          Perhaps. But maybe God is using this in their life too. Maybe He intends for them to have to put up with my limitations, to not be able to do certain things with me as a father/husband because God wants to draw them to Himself.

          Ask God to show you where you are wrong, but do not blame yourself for all the waves that rock your boat in the lily pads.

Anxiety 

          Anxiety is the evil twin of prudence. The latter biblically looks down the road to see what is coming so it can prepare for it. Anxiety looks down the road and always sees something negative coming. The “what if” is always answered in the negative.

          I speak from sad experience here: when you have suffered it is very easy to become anxious all the time. Mandy and I buried our first child on a snowy Pennsylvania hillside in the waning moments of the last century. Since that day, we are sore tempted to imagine the worst for our children. You become exceedingly conscious of the frailty of human life; it is always on your mind.

          Learning from experience is one thing; allowing yourself to become anxious is another. Be careful for nothing; but in every thing by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God. And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus (Philippians 4.6-7).

Self-Pity 

          I sat on the picnic table across from a girlfriend who had just broken up with me. My class ring lay rocking gently back and forth on the table between us. She had just dropped it there. Shocked, I stared at her and groaned, “I can’t believe this is happening to me.” Ever the sensible woman, she looked me square in the eye and said, “Tom, you’re not the only guy in the history of the world to have his girl break up with him.”

          She was right. What helpful words those were to me in the dark years ahead. I was not somehow destined for a miserable existence beyond the ken of any man. I was just experiencing life, the same kind of life that millions of others before me and after me experienced. It was endurable. It was survivable.

Despair

          After so many years fighting Meniere’s Disease and its effects, I am generally on an even keel. But occasionally I will descend into the spiraled, twisting madness of despair. At such times, I feel trapped in a broken, deteriorating body, fearful I will be unable to continue to provide for my family or to serve the Lord in any measurable capacity. But despair is always wrong, beloved, always.

          Despair is a vote against the goodness of God. Despair is a vote against the sufficiency of God. Despair is a vote against a real view of what God is actually doing now. Despair is the emotional result of lying to yourself and believing your own lies. At its extreme end, despair becomes suicide, the direct result of a wrong response to suffering.

          Whatever you do, do not despair.

          I know that my redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth: And though after my skin worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God (Job 19.25-26).

          If you do not have the faith to share Job’s thoughts at least have the wisdom to cling to his words. Whatever has happened or will happen, God has not died. He lives. In the end, when it all is said and done, He will stand triumphant over a creation restored from its curse and you will stand there with Him.

          Believe that, child of God, believe that. And do not despair.

"Why Did You Quote That Guy?"

From time to time, I get questioned about why I quote the people I quote. It is almost impossible to answer anything in depth on Twitter, so I have decided  to write a detailed answer for anyone bored enough to read it.

The first thing to understand is that I am not intentionally trying to stir up a debate to drive eyeballs or clicks. When I entered the pastorate almost three decades ago, I discovered a wonderful new tool called email. I had a wide circle of friends in college. As I was reading a book I would come across a quote I thought was good. I decided to ask a few of my friends  if they would like for me to send them the occasional quote via email. Over the years the Quote List, as I call it, has grown to encompass nearly 600 men in ministry. I still send one every day. And my files are filled with thousands and thousands of quotes lifted from hundreds and hundreds of books. Several times a week I will go into those files, pull out the next quote in line, and put it on Twitter. 

The second thing to understand is that we just may well differ on who is a bad man and who is not. This comes up in reference to a quote from Jack Hyles, for example. I'll get a response of horror, and a link to some news story from a Detroit tv station thirty years ago. The simple truth is I've read and watched and seen everything there is to see. Somewhere in my files is a 3000 word synopsis of what I think about it all. There isn't any aspect of his whole saga I'm not familiar with. And I have no illusion he is a saint. But I don't think he was the devil either. I think I have a balanced view of him. It may be as simple as the fact you are in line with the opinion of two sentences ago. And I'm not. 

The third thing to understand is that when I'm not in line with the popular opinion of who is acceptable to quote and who is not I am not about to be stampeded by a Twitter mob. That doesn't mean I'm not willing to listen to a reasonable argument, especially when that comes from someone with whom I have some sort of constant contact. But stampeded I will not be.

The fourth thing to understand is that the thousands of quotes I have archived over the years contain some aspect of distilled wisdom. That's why I originally noted them in some book or other, sent them out to hundreds of pastors, and then filed them for later. That distilled wisdom is still wisdom even if the individual saying it is/has become a notoriously bad person in your eyes. Truth that is well said is still truth even if the sayer doesn't have a life that backs it up. 

The fact is all of us quote people all the time whose lives are wretched. In one sense, we have to, because all of us have wretched lives. Perhaps the most under-stated verse in the Bible is the one that says we come short of the glory of God. A quote is exactly that - a quote, a selection of well-worded wisdom - not a recommendation for you to hire them as your life coach.

I freely confess the inconsistent application of selective outrage to certain quotes is frustrating. I quote Emerson and nobody blinks, but he was a Transcendentalist. So was Thoreau. Henry Ward Beecher had a way with words like few others, but almost certainly lived a life of hypocrisy and adultery. A. W. Tozer and Billy Sunday were terrible fathers. Nobody gets upset about any of these. On the other hand, you quote Martin Luther King, and expect to be commended for it. But he consorted with known communists, was a theological liberal who believed in the social gospel (which makes him a heretic), committed serial adultery all over the country, and the FBI swears it has a recording of him participating in a rape. But I'm out of line because I quoted a man who may or may not have done some wrong at some point? I don't think you should stop quoting MLK nor do I think you should ask me to stop quoting So-and-so. 

The fifth thing to understand is that my use of quotes from good men you think are bad, bad men who used to be good, or from plain bad men is not inconsistent with my recommendation that we screen whom we read carefully. And if you will re-read that sentence I think you will see why. I've read many books from/about men who I later came to see in a different light. So I wouldn't read after them again. But their quotes are still in my files and they still contain wisdom. Additionally, some of those quotes from men you don't think I should quote aren't from books by them, but from books in which they were referenced at some point. I'm not being hypocritical; when I was younger in the ministry I did not read men I thought would be a bad/dangerous influence and I still do it only occasionally. But did you ever stop to think I probably came across that quote some other way, or at some other time? 

"Fine. But you still shouldn't quote them."

Then don't. And if you don't want me to do so then send me a bunch of books by men you think are good to quote from. I'll happily accept them, hopefully get around to reading them someday, and pass along to others the distilled wisdom I find in them.

As for myself, I'm content to stand before the Lord and answer for how I have stewarded the influence with men He has graciously given me. 

Count the Cost

 

Suffering 22

 

          If you serve God it is going to cost you. Our Lord said as much. For which of you, intending to build a tower, sitteth not down first, and counteth the cost, whether he have sufficient to finish it? (Luke 14.28) It is going to cost you time, money, work, and it is going to cost you suffering. If you want your ministry to grow in effectiveness or in scope you must understand it will cost you more of all of these, especially suffering.

          The link between serving God and suffering is found all through the Word of God. If you do not understand this, you will be tempted to quit when the suffering begins to roll in, or when the suffering begins to exponentially increase. In today’s post, I aim to drive this point home by showing you a variety of ways we suffer as we serve the Lord. To be clear, we could avoid all of these if we quit serving God. So count the cost.

          First, if we serve God, we will experience criticism, reviling, rebuke, and perhaps persecution. We find this in the Old Testament. O Lord, thou knowest: remember me, and visit me, and revenge me of my persecutors; take me not away in thy longsuffering: know that for thy sake I have suffered rebuke (Jeremiah 15.15). We also find it in the New Testament. And they departed from the presence of the council, rejoicing that they were counted worthy to suffer shame for his name (Acts 5.41). By my count, there are at least eighteen specific references to this in the Word of God along with numerous personal examples.

          You will be criticized, mocked, and attacked by your friends, your family, and your coworkers. Some of this is driven by genuine concern for you. Some of it is driven by pride. Some of it is a reaction against the conviction your life provokes in them. Some of it is driven by peer pressure.

          You will also be criticized, mocked, and attacked by the brethren in Christ. Some of this is driven by misunderstanding. Some of it is driven by genuine doctrinal disagreement. Much of it is driven by a lack of charity and grace along with accompanying pride. Elbert Hubbard said, “To avoid criticism, say nothing, do nothing, and be nothing.” If you take a stand, brace yourself. Just put your flak jacket and helmet on. The hits are going to keep coming.

Most of these are verbal, but in the wisdom of God occasionally the attack directed our way for our public stand/service for the Lord becomes actual. This is persecution. It is driven by the devil, who hates God, hates truth, and hates God’s people. He whips the world up into an emotional frenzy aimed directly at all that God loves and he hates. It will come more and more as we draw nearer the Second Coming. So count the cost.

Second, we must suffer to get out the gospel. If others be partakers of this power over you, are not we rather? Nevertheless we have not used this power; but suffer all things, lest we should hinder the gospel of Christ (I Corinthians 9.12). Getting out the gospel takes time, money, and hard work. Often the only thing we get in return is discouragement, rejection, little to no visible results, and an abiding sense of futility. Jack Hyles used to say, “We do not suffer to make salvation possible but we do suffer to make it available.” Elijah experienced this, Noah experienced this, Jeremiah experienced this, and Jesus experienced this in spades.

In addition to this, I would also argue the Christian who is dedicated to getting out the Gospel must suffer with a deep and abiding sense of the burden of sin’s consequence, hell. For this type of believer, the fact of hell is an ever-present reality. It drives him, motivates him, spurs him to continue. One more tract. One more visit. One more door. One more conversation. The eternal destiny of those around him weighs on him constantly.

This, too, we see in our Saviour. The last week of His life, as He and His Apostles enter Jerusalem the Judean hills echoed with shouts of acclamation. Yet our Saviour’s cheeks were wet with tears. He looked forward in time to the consequence of Israel’s rejection of Him and the corresponding destruction of Jerusalem under Titus some forty years hence. Their destiny burdened him even in His moment of greatest public acclaim.

Third, there is suffering that comes in pursuit of spiritual growth. Yea doubtless, and I count all things but loss for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord: for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and do count them but dung, that I may win Christ (Philippians 3.8). For instance, as the Spirit convicts me of sin I suffer the painful reminder of my own shortcomings, and the difficult task of mortifying my flesh and allowing Christ to live in me. Giving up the things Tom Brennan loves hurts sometimes. Study is a necessary part of the growing Christian’s life, and study is hard work. As we go deeper with Him we often find it a very lonely quest. And I could mention numerous other aspects of suffering entailed in the pursuit of spiritual growth.

Fourth, there is deep suffering in the ministry of sympathy.

I find this comes when I must ask others to do something that is obviously difficult for them. They are wronged and I ask them to forgive. God is silent and I ask them to trust. They are struggling financially and I ask them to tithe. Their marriage is sheer pain and I ask them not to divorce. As I ask them to do what I believe God wants them to do I hurt knowing how much they will hurt in doing it.

I find this comes when I must endure all manner of loss as God prepares me to minister to others. Thus, when I call on others to allow God to use them I know I am asking them to suffer. I feel that most keenly. This is the route God must take to prepare them for service, but I am asking a lot of them and I know it. For in that he himself hath suffered being tempted, he is able to succour them that are tempted (Hebrews 2.18).   

 I find this comes when I seek to be to others the paraclete that God is to me. I am instructed by Paul, Rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep with them that weep (Romans 12.15). When your heart is breaking it will cost you, beloved, to paste a smile on your face and fellowship with those who are walking in the sunshine. And when you are called to walk with those whose burdens are heavy you will find yourself sharing that heaviness. This also includes the cost of building a close enough relationship with them to be able to do this.

You will find this type of ministry does not add to your burdens; it multiplies them. Bear ye one another’s burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ (Galatians 6.2).

          Lastly, we suffer when we must part from those we have grown close to in serving the Lord. We see this clearly in Acts 20 as Paul takes leave of the Ephesian pastors. And they all wept sore, and fell on Paul’s neck, and kissed him, Sorrowing most of all for the words which he spake, that they should see his face no more. You only experience this if you have given your heart away to others in your service for Him. But if you do, the ties that bind you are tightly wound indeed, and severing them, either in parting or in death, is most painful.

          Again, let me be clear. You can avoid all of this if you will just be a carnal Christian. You can probably avoid most of this if you will just be a plateaued Christian. Even if you have served the Lord long and well you can lay most of this aside if you will just quit.

          There are other things you will avoid too. You will miss out on growing close to the Lord, the deep blessing of knowing you are a blessing, the joy there is in serving Jesus, the warm and committed relationships you build with others as you serve the Lord alongside of them, seeing the Lord turn evil into good, and glorifying God. Count the cost, yes. And make sure you count what you buy with that cost too.

          Thirty-six years ago this summer at a Christian camp in southern Ohio I put my hand up and said, “I’m willing to pay.” Pay I have for these thirty-six years. And I would make the same decision over again in a heartbeat.

          There is deep suffering in serving the Lord by serving people. And there is deeper joy and blessing.

          So count the cost.

When God is Silent

 

Suffering 21

 

Why standest thou afar off, O Lord? Why hidest thou thyself in times of trouble?

Psalm 10.1

           Trouble is bad. What makes trouble worse is when God is silent in our trouble. We are burdened because He has burdened us. We are laden because He had laden us. We are grieved because He has grieved us. We are wounded because He has wounded us. Yet when we pour our heart out before Him, when we place our sorrow before Him and ask Him why, He is silent.

          When it comes to suffering, I could make the argument that the silence of God is harder than the actual suffering itself. The agony of our Saviour during His passion is seen most not in the screamed I thirst, but in the hollow, whispered heartbreak of My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?

          If even Jesus struggled with this, if even Jesus – who knew the Scriptures inside and out, who understood the plan of redemption and His own place in it, who had not one speck of sin in His own life – struggled with the silence of God then I should not be surprised to find myself there too.

          Today, I want to offer four thoughts about the silence of God.

          First, I must examine myself to see if the silence of God is caused by my sin.

If I regard iniquity in my heart the Lord will not hear me. (Psalm 66.18) I will hide my face from them… For they are a very froward generation. (Deuteronomy 32.20) Sift your thoughts, decisions, and priorities. Sift the stewardship of your money, your time, and your opportunities. Sift your heart for pride, greed, selfishness, covetousness, and bitterness. As the priests in Israel’s Temple sifted the flour for the meat offerings twelve times, do you sift your heart, beloved. And in your sifting ask God to show you yourself. Search me, O God, and know my heart: Try me, and know my thoughts: And see if there be any wicked way in me, And lead me in the way everlasting. (Psalm 139.23-24)

          Second, know that when God is silent He still comforts. The Holy Spirit still indwells us, and He still fulfills His ministry of comfort. The Word of God is still available to me; the pages of Psalms can still soak up my tears. Now, God may not respond to my desperate plea to understand why, but God still comforts me.

          The truth is in the short term comfort is more needful than explanations. Many years ago, I tried to help my young daughter learn to ride a bike. While it was moving in a straight line she had relatively little trouble, but rounding the first corner she crashed and skinned her knee. As I rushed up I said, “Emma, the problem is centrifugal force. Your center of gravity shifted as your straight line became an arc and…” No. I did none of that. I just held her, wiped away her tears, and helped her mother bandage her knee.

          While I was finishing Bible college, I carefully planned the next few years. I had a girlfriend for whom I cared much. I would propose to her at Christmas of our senior year, and we would marry the following summer. Having finished school, we would get a little apartment and allow our marriage to mature for a year or two. Following that, I would get hired on as an assistant pastor at some large church and we would be on our way.

          When she broke up with me the summer before our senior year it sent me into a four year tail spin. I finished college in a daze. I clung like a drowning man to my busroute. I quit jobs I should have kept and kept jobs I should have quit. I moved in and out of apartments and started and never finished semesters. My prospects of that good staff job went up in smoke. Who hires an unmarried youth pastor? God made no sense. I had oh-so-carefully sought to follow Him; He had led me directly to a cliff and dropped me off. And He was silent.

          …yet in that silence He still comforted me. I remember one particular Valentine’s Day, a horrible time of year in my situation. I was working the afternoon shift at a steel factory. During my 8 PM break I walked outside into the bitter wind and biting snow of a Chicago February and wept. My peers were gathered at the Valentine’s Banquet, enjoying their fiancés and their futures, while I headed into painful oblivion. I remember yelling at God that night as I walked around the block and cried. He answered me nothing. I got no explanation. But He comforted me to the depth of my questioning spirit that night. And it was enough.

          Third, other than when I sin, His silence is proof He is at work.

          This sounds illogical, but it is not. If God – Who is omnipresent, Who encourages me to pray, Who has told me He will never leave me nor forsake me – if that God is silent I have come to realize by way of experience it is for a reason. His silence proves to me He is accomplishing some great purpose; His silence is proof He is at work.

          A moment ago, I referenced the difficult handful of years I lived at the end of college. Curiously enough, I had experienced a similarly bad relationship breakup in high school. Most of my poetry was penned enduring that in high school. As my post-college plans crumbled around me, I reached back to the grief of my high school years. By now, I had come to see and understand why God allowed me to hurt in high school. Clutching that to my heart, I encouraged myself that if God was at work through my sorrow then He must similarly be at work through my sorrow now. And I threw myself in desperate trust at His feet.

          God grows us, beloved, by giving us progressively harder tests. When you are experiencing such a test, remember what you went through last time, how though it seemed God had abandoned you He actually had not. He was silent, then, but He was there and He was at work. Which tells you He is at work now.

          I am forty-nine years of age as of this writing. There have been four specific seasons in my life where God made no sense, where I hurt deeply and He gave me no explanation, where I had sought to follow Him and it had resulted in pain. In all four of those while God was silent He was at work.

          I will need to remind myself of this when the fifth time comes.

          Not only is this borne out by my experience, I find it borne out by other’s experience as well. Many a saint of the Lord has experienced the silence of God.

 While C. S. Lewis’ wife lay dying he wrote, “Meanwhile, where is God? This is one of the most disquieting symptoms. When you are happy, so happy that you have no sense of needing Him, so happy that you are tempted to feel His claims upon you as an interruption, if you remember yourself and turn to Him with gratitude and praise, you will be – or so it feels – welcomed with open arms. But go to Him when your need is desperate, when all other help is vain, and what do you find? A door slammed in your face, and a sound of bolting and double bolting on the inside. After that, silence. You may as well turn away. The longer you wait, the more emphatic the silence will become. There are no lights in the windows. It might be an empty house. Was it ever inhabited? It seemed so once. And that seeming was as strong as this. What can this mean? Why is He so present a commander in our time of prosperity and so very absent a help in time of trouble?”

          Adoniram Judson gave up everything to travel to Burma as a missionary. When war broke out between England and Burma in 1824, the American Judson was imprisoned as an English spy. He was tortured for an entire year, and was so shaken by the experience he contemplated suicide. Then he received word his wife had died, followed soon after by the death of his young daughter. Released, he tried to process it via hard work, but eventually he gave up his mission. He built a hut in the Burmese jungle, dug an open grave, and sat by that grave hour after hour in the grips of a fierce depression. In a letter to his dead wife’s parents he wrote, “Have either of you learned the art of real communion with God, and can you teach me the first principles? God is to me the Great Unknown. I believe in him, but I find him not.”

          Joseph, in prison, hurled questions at heavens that seemed made of brass. The children of Israel spent decades prior to Moses’ arrival beseeching God to undertake for them; He seemed silent for many years. The sweet psalmist of Israel wrote brokenly, Wherefore hidest thou thy face, And forgettest our affliction and our oppression? (Psalm 44.24) Lord, why castest thou off my soul? Why hidest thou thy face from me? (Psalm 88.14) A sorrowing Job asked, Wherefore hidest thou thy face, And holdest me for thine enemy? (Job 13.24) In what is perhaps the most haunting stretch of biblical phrases, a borderline bitter Job implored his friends to explain the silence of God:

Job 23.1–9

1 Then Job answered and said,

2 Even to day is my complaint bitter: My stroke is heavier than my groaning.

3 Oh that I knew where I might find him! That I might come even to his seat!

4 I would order my cause before him, And fill my mouth with arguments.

5 I would know the words which he would answer me, And understand what he would say unto me.

6 Will he plead against me with his great power? No; but he would put strength in me.

7 There the righteous might dispute with him; So should I be delivered for ever from my judge.

8 Behold, I go forward, but he is not there; And backward, but I cannot perceive him:

9 On the left hand, where he doth work, but I cannot behold him: He hideth himself on the right hand, that I cannot see him:

          It is good to know in such times that we are not alone. Saints through all the ages have experienced the same working of God via His silence.

          Lastly, pour a biblical lament into the silence.

          This is something that evangelicals, for all their problems, are better at than we fundamentalists are. Bring up lament in an independent Baptist church and people think you have gone off the deep end. But it is eminently biblical. The term simply means an expression of sorrow or mourning, and they are found all over the Bible. Job laments. Abraham laments. Jacob laments. Joseph laments. Moses laments. Naomi laments. Samuel laments. David laments. Jeremiah laments. (Lamentations anyone?) Jesus laments. John laments. Paul laments.

          Find one of these Bible prayers and meditate upon it. Let it soak deep into the battered surface of your heart. Then, like the priceless water of Bethlehem David poured out before the Lord, pour your lament out before Him.

          In my mind, I have such places captured in the amber of memory, rooms and roads and trails and shorelines all over America, where I have poured out my soul to Him.

          He is silent but He is there, wherever your there is.

          We have spoken much in this series of the work God does in and through and during our suffering. Do you know when God does that? In the silence. Job finishes the haunting passage I referenced just above with some of the best words to ever flow from a mortal pen.

Job 23.8–10

8 Behold, I go forward, but he is not there; And backward, but I cannot perceive him:

9 On the left hand, where he doth work, but I cannot behold him: He hideth himself on the right hand, that I cannot see him:

10 But he knoweth the way that I take: When he hath tried me, I shall come forth as gold.

          In the silence, God is refining you into gold.