Happy suffering
2 Timothy 1:8-14
I ran into a Methodist clergy friend of mine at Starbucks this morning. We are both deep into our Lenten preparations for Sunday mornings, gearing up for the mad rush of Holy Week, and everything else on the deck right now. We laughingly wished each other a "Happy Lent!," then he amended it to a "Happy suffering!" but deferred to me as the Presbyterian to develop that theme.
Oh, the sorrows of being a Calvinist! Total depravity, predestination, and all that....the Rev. Calvin was a barrel of laughs, I'll tell you!
Then, I ran across this text from Paul in his instructions to his protege, Timothy.
Maybe there is something to the idea of happy suffering, after all.
No one wants to suffer. No one wants to hurt. No one bursts out to a church member or a pastor as they join the congregation, "Boy, I can't wait--LET THE SUFFERING BEGIN!" No, we tend to arrive at a faith juncture because we want the suffering to end. We want to find peace, hope, settledness, and happiness. We want to feel good about life, the world, and us within it. As you run through the great religions of the world, you find remarkable consistency--almost all of them deal with the problem of suffering as a foundational motivation for being. They all promise a way out of suffering, a hope for redemption where all the tears are wiped away, the mourning ended, and the joy everlasting.
But Paul seems on a different track as he writes to Timothy. "Do not be ashamed of suffering...do not be ashamed of me in jail..." Do not be ashamed that all the promises seem ludicrous at best, and complete delusions at worst.
Paul addresses a difficult truth in following Christ--Christ was not kidding when he said if anyone followed him, they would bear their own cross.
Faith is not a promise of a life of ease. Faith is hard work. The husband holding the hand of his beloved as she prepares for open heart surgery prays hard, and there is no bliss in the prayers--they are more like Psalm 22's cry. The young woman confronting a group of malevolent looking strangers blocking her way across a darkened parking lot prays hard, but there is no bliss, there is real and actual fear. The old man who awakens to the reality of a body that hurts and that will hurt now that he is of a certain age prays hard, but there is no bliss, there is a deep hunger for pain to stop. But each of these human beings is faithful, believing, earnest, and sincere. There is nothing wrong with their faith.
The reality of being created is that we aren't finished, and in our incompleteness, with the incompleteness of creation itself, there are problems and there will be breaks--real and actual problems, pains, and failures. But the further reality of being created is that we are created by God in an act of love so profound and so deep that it astonishes us to silence. God is with us. God loves us. God wants us to experience the glory of being created in love.
Which brings us to Christ.
Christ is God's answer to suffering. In Christ, we believe that God took on everything about us, including our incompletion and the suffering that comes with it. Christ suffered. He took on the pain of the world--all of the world and every human being. He met it with compassion that knows no bounds, no limits, and no end. That is the weekend we are marching toward--Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, Vigil Saturday, and Easter. Christ suffered, died, was buried, and was raised. That is God's complete embrace of suffering in all of its forms.
It also breaks its endlessness--the Third Day is the promise of hope that nothing can take away--even if we die, we will be with God.
But it does not end there.
Instead, in Christ, we are called to meet suffering head on, meeting the suffering with compassion, grace, mercy, and willingness to walk with them until the suffering ends. As followers of Christ, we are to leave the husband alone while he awaits his wife's surgery to end, but sit with him, pray for him and her, and care for them in any way that comes to mind. If we are near the darkened parking lot, we offer to walk with the young woman into the darkness. If she has left our house and is far from us, we pray hard. If we are near the old man, we visit him, we listen to him, and we hold him. If not, we pray for the aged everywhere, respecting those whom we meet, and meet them with compassion that communicates dignity.
And on goes the walk of faith...and as it goes, we do indeed find joy--the deep, real, and actual peace of knowing Christ with us as we become Christ for others.
Paul was onto something.
Happy suffering, indeed.
I ran into a Methodist clergy friend of mine at Starbucks this morning. We are both deep into our Lenten preparations for Sunday mornings, gearing up for the mad rush of Holy Week, and everything else on the deck right now. We laughingly wished each other a "Happy Lent!," then he amended it to a "Happy suffering!" but deferred to me as the Presbyterian to develop that theme.
Oh, the sorrows of being a Calvinist! Total depravity, predestination, and all that....the Rev. Calvin was a barrel of laughs, I'll tell you!
Then, I ran across this text from Paul in his instructions to his protege, Timothy.
Maybe there is something to the idea of happy suffering, after all.
No one wants to suffer. No one wants to hurt. No one bursts out to a church member or a pastor as they join the congregation, "Boy, I can't wait--LET THE SUFFERING BEGIN!" No, we tend to arrive at a faith juncture because we want the suffering to end. We want to find peace, hope, settledness, and happiness. We want to feel good about life, the world, and us within it. As you run through the great religions of the world, you find remarkable consistency--almost all of them deal with the problem of suffering as a foundational motivation for being. They all promise a way out of suffering, a hope for redemption where all the tears are wiped away, the mourning ended, and the joy everlasting.
But Paul seems on a different track as he writes to Timothy. "Do not be ashamed of suffering...do not be ashamed of me in jail..." Do not be ashamed that all the promises seem ludicrous at best, and complete delusions at worst.
Paul addresses a difficult truth in following Christ--Christ was not kidding when he said if anyone followed him, they would bear their own cross.
Faith is not a promise of a life of ease. Faith is hard work. The husband holding the hand of his beloved as she prepares for open heart surgery prays hard, and there is no bliss in the prayers--they are more like Psalm 22's cry. The young woman confronting a group of malevolent looking strangers blocking her way across a darkened parking lot prays hard, but there is no bliss, there is real and actual fear. The old man who awakens to the reality of a body that hurts and that will hurt now that he is of a certain age prays hard, but there is no bliss, there is a deep hunger for pain to stop. But each of these human beings is faithful, believing, earnest, and sincere. There is nothing wrong with their faith.
The reality of being created is that we aren't finished, and in our incompleteness, with the incompleteness of creation itself, there are problems and there will be breaks--real and actual problems, pains, and failures. But the further reality of being created is that we are created by God in an act of love so profound and so deep that it astonishes us to silence. God is with us. God loves us. God wants us to experience the glory of being created in love.
Which brings us to Christ.
Christ is God's answer to suffering. In Christ, we believe that God took on everything about us, including our incompletion and the suffering that comes with it. Christ suffered. He took on the pain of the world--all of the world and every human being. He met it with compassion that knows no bounds, no limits, and no end. That is the weekend we are marching toward--Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, Vigil Saturday, and Easter. Christ suffered, died, was buried, and was raised. That is God's complete embrace of suffering in all of its forms.
It also breaks its endlessness--the Third Day is the promise of hope that nothing can take away--even if we die, we will be with God.
But it does not end there.
Instead, in Christ, we are called to meet suffering head on, meeting the suffering with compassion, grace, mercy, and willingness to walk with them until the suffering ends. As followers of Christ, we are to leave the husband alone while he awaits his wife's surgery to end, but sit with him, pray for him and her, and care for them in any way that comes to mind. If we are near the darkened parking lot, we offer to walk with the young woman into the darkness. If she has left our house and is far from us, we pray hard. If we are near the old man, we visit him, we listen to him, and we hold him. If not, we pray for the aged everywhere, respecting those whom we meet, and meet them with compassion that communicates dignity.
And on goes the walk of faith...and as it goes, we do indeed find joy--the deep, real, and actual peace of knowing Christ with us as we become Christ for others.
Paul was onto something.
Happy suffering, indeed.
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