Some personal study notes on the Book of James

The quiet time regimen that I put together for our teens recently took us through the book of James.  As I was reading, I was reminded that James is sometimes called the "Proverbs of the New Testament" because it contains lots of practical wisdom and can seem to jump from topic to topic.  However, there are also some big, connecting themes that unites the epistle into more than just a loose string of pithy truths.

James' epistle is a text dedicated to wholeheartedness in the life of the believer: the total unity of body, mind, and heart -- of faith and works -- in comprehensive worship of the Lord.  The antithesis of this is divided allegiance between God and the world (4.4), doubt (1.6), double-mindedness and instability (1.8), confusion (3.16), and lack of true saving faith (2.14).  James writes to persecuted churches, dispersed from their homes, to remind them of their calling and to warn them of how easy it would be to allow their circumstances to dictate how they act and think, and what they believe.  Most of these churches were comprised of Jewish Christians, which meant they carried a lot of cultural baggage with regard to how to properly understand and practice the Law in the light of the gospel, and so James spends a lot of time talking about how to properly apply what he calls the "Law of Liberty" -- not de-systematized freedom from religious obligation, but rather heart-felt obedience to the commands of Christ, done as a response to the free grace of salvation, not as a duty-bound means of obtaining it.

Recorded below are some observations I jotted down as I was reading.

[Jas 1.1-18]  James addresses his epistle to the Jewish believers scattered by persecution from their fellow, non-believing Jews (see Acts 8.1-3). This opening section of his letter deals primarily with believers' appropriate responses to suffering, trials, and temptations, as well as helping them to understand the sovereign hand of God in these unfortunate circumstances.  In fact, the believer is to see all trials as a means of perfecting faith, not cause to blame the Almighty for leading them astray.  From the hand of God comes the Christian's eternal security, any blessings we might receive this side of heaven, and also the trials were experience, which serve the function of helping us change our perspectives on what truly matters.  God's goodness is what gave us this existence to begin with.  The believer, facing enormous difficulty, has only to petition the Lord for wisdom, asking in faith, and God will supply.

[1.19-27]  James exhorts the believers to wait for the righteousness of God, even in persecution: man's wrath won't produce justice or settle the conflict, but God's measured wrath -- one day -- will settle all scores.  Our calling is to meekly receive the truth of the gospel, which preserves our souls beyond the experience of suffering.  In the meantime, what is required of those who would persevere toward the crown of life (1.12)?  Answer: the exercise of self-control, sacrificial service, personal integrity (1.26-27).  This type of lifestyle means putting the commands and priorities of God's Word into practice, moving beyond merely hearing and intellectually receiving its teaching, and actually exercising the faith and gifts we've received from the Holy Spirit  Someone who does not live as the Word commands is self-deceived, because he thinks he is pleasing the Lord simply by hearing but not responding.  Such might be the excuse of Christians experiencing hardships and trials, such as persecution, but this is James' call to faithfulness: true believers hear and obey God's Word by doing what it says, no matter the circumstances, because we have a joy that transcends our trials and orients us toward eternity.

[2.1-13]  Speaking to Jewish believers in dispersion, James has an audience that could easily slip back into old ways of thinking -- obeying the Law not from a place of faith, but a place of obligation, preferring certain peoples over others, especially other Jews over Gentile believers, or expecting God to change their misfortunes as a result of their obedience.  The Church is growing and expending and diversifying under persecution; there is no room for Christians within the Body to treat others with class distinctions in the way pagan communities might.  There is to be no inequality of personhood in the Church -- hence the special care for orphans, widows, and the destitute (1.27).  The Church is to vibrantly stand out against the culture by its radically different approach to serving one another, not abusing one another -- that's what the persecutors were doing to the Christians!  The entirety of the Law was captured by Jesus: to love the Lord and to love your neighbor as yourself.  This "law of liberty," and the constraints placed upon believers by the Apostles' teaching (via the Holy Spirit), are altogether the standard of holiness promoted by OT law, a standard which must be embraced in the heart in order for mercy (2.13) to truly be shown.  One cannot hope to show mercy to others if one has not first received mercy from God.

[2.14-26]  This conversation, which began with James' exhortation to be doers of the Word and not just hearers (1.22), is pressing toward this key theological understanding: obedience to the Law and obedience to the Word are the manifestation of true saving faith.  James is clearly referencing Deuteronomy 6.4-5, the Shema, which Jewish believers would have quoted and known, but which may not have inspired active, wholehearted obedience to the commandments that follow.  A faith that has no obedience is a dead and useless faith.  This was the condition of ancient Israel, and the Church was already in danger of its members following the same pattern.  Abraham and Rahab both demonstrated this principle: they believed, which justified them before God and counted (imputed) as righteousness for salvation, but that faith was also verified ("justified" or "vindicated" is the word James uses) before men by their works of obedience.  Believers must -- will -- follow this example, because they are transformed (see 2 Cor 5.17).  Faith, when it is true and saving, produces in the believer a receptive and obedient heart.  All Christians must therefore demonstrate a faith + works, Romans 12.1-2 lifestyle, which is adherence to the Law of Liberty: freedom from sin, freedom to righteousness, both in status before God and in demonstrable conduct before men.

[3.1-12]  In discussing the Christian's earthly goal (pure and undefiled religion before God -- 1.26-27), James foreshadowed a longer conversation regarding the necessity of self-control and reputation with regard to the tongue.  After discussing the critical nature of works that prove/verify the Christian's faith, he connects this idea to the topic of edifying, gospel-centered speech.  This comes with another warning: as we will be held accountable for our actions, so also we will be held accountable for our words and what they reveal of our hearts (see Matt 12.36).  This standard is high for all Christians, but it is even higher for those who are teachers -- elders, leaders, mentors, influencers in the Church.  This is because the tongue has incredible power to edify or demolish, to lead to truth or to deceive.  Furthermore, the mark of maturity is found in self-control in our speech.  How and what we communicate are representative of Christ and how we have been shaped by Him.  How we speak to others should not usurp God's place of judgment (4.11).  Wisdom is ultimately the discretion of knowing how to speak and act in a manner that is pleasing to the Lord and edifying to man (3.13).  God is not pleased by a believer who talks out of both sides of his mouth, is culturally profane, unrestrained, or immature in speech.  Speech is a defining quality, for it is out of the heart that the mouth speaks, and therefore acquits or condemns (1.26-27; 3.6; Matt 15.18).

[3.13-18]  James is not interested just in actions and works: humans can be pharisaical, boasting of our piety and wisdom but harboring selfishness, pride, and bitterness inside.  Our works should verify our faith in the "meekness of wisdom" -- that is, a humility of the heart demonstrating that truth has penetrated not just our heads, but also our hearts.  All of our speech and conduct should be windows into our hearts.  Wisdom is the right knowledge of how to speak and act in a God-honoring, man-edifying manner, and it comes from a place of internal transformation.  The sign that this genuine change has happened is found in how the individual responds to criticism, hardships, and people: are we compassionate and merciful?  Are we approachable and humble?  Are we patient and gentle?  Are we sincere?  Do we only choose to listen to people who think like we do?  Are we in the business of seeking and making peace?  These are the characteristic pursuits of a heart transformed, manifesting faith via proper speech and conduct.  The opposite will eventually be revealed for what it truly is: wanton selfishness, ambition, disorder, vile and demonic practices.  But ultimately, the harvest -- at the end of the "season" -- is what will reveal the wheat and the chaff (see 5.7-8).  True, God will judge our works (5.9), but first He judges our hearts to ensure they belong to Him.

[4.1-10]  The types of disorder, vile practice, and selfish ambition that James referenced in 3.16 are the underlying source of conflict among the believers in 4.1ff.  When we exercise the "meekness of wisdom" (3.13), we practice peacemaking selflessness; when we are motivated by self-centered arrogance, we are exercising friendship with the world, and trending down the progression of sin (see 1.14-15).  The underlying issue is the motive: the heart wants, creates idols, and craves.  This lifestyle is more becoming a child of the world than a child of God, for whom Christ paid the highest price.  Perhaps the single most important factor in our relationship to God (and to others!) is a spirit of humility, which provides the necessary platform for the selfless type of love that does not seek its own way (1 Cor 13.5).  The Christian must submit himself to God, not to his own desires.  This type of genuine humility brings great reward in God's kingdom.

[4.11-5.6]  While arrogant and judgmental behavior is unbecoming a believer in any scenario, it is especially damaging when such behavior is directed toward another Christian.  Christ has redeemed both individuals; how can you presume to act as the Lawgiver when there is only One who can adequately and justly fulfill this role?  Whether or not a brother has wronged us, our role in conflict is still subordinate to the Law and its Lawgiver; none of us is the Judge, jury, and executioner of God's Law!  James is shifting in this section to addressing presumptuous behaviors, which result from arrogance and are the enemy of the applications his epistle has been pressing.  Overconfidence in presuming on time and financial security are both attitudes with an unwarranted sense of entitlement.  Time is in the hands of the Maker and is only a gift to be used appropriately while it is here.  We aren't guaranteed more of it.  Money similarly is not a lasting commodity.  James seems to allude to Jesus' teaching on where treasures should be "laid up" (see Matt 6.16-21), reminding the persecuted believers in dispersion that the pursuit of wealth and prestige did nothing to protect them when persecution came, and would ultimately fail again if that became their aim.  Wealth should never be a means of exploitation or self-indulgence, but exclusively a means of increasing service.  Furthermore, it is the brother of "low degree" (1.9) -- the humble, poor, persecuted believer -- not the comfortably rich land-owner who is in a better position to know everlasting wealth, because he pursues a crown of life that will not perish instead of earthly comfort (1.12).

[5.7-12]  Here, James returns to his opening exhortation: believers should count it a unique opportunity for joy even when trials come.  Suffering is just the waiting process for the inevitable harvest (5.7; 3.18).  The Lord's coming is perhaps "slow" by human reckoning, but it is nevertheless imminent -- that is, it could happen at any moment.  In order to persevere, we must remember the examples of faith and endurance set by our spiritual predecessors.  They too lived through suffering and trials, keeping their eyes on the God of Heaven and the reward at the end.  Even in examples of suffering like Job's, where the suffering seemed heavy and meaningless in the moment, God still proved Himself steadfast and compassionate.  He operates the same way with his children today.  Our confident expectations should be in Him and His promises, not in our abilities or words of oath.  Our obedience is possible because He helps us, not because we swear to fulfill our end of the bargain.  Ultimately, all our boasting must be in Christ (1 Cor 1.31).  The epistle's call for the believer to remain "steadfast" under trials (1.2-4, 12) is only possible because God Himself is steadfast (see Ex 34.6-7).

[5.13-20]  As he concludes the epistle, James reminds the suffering believers of their recourses: prayer and community.  Our prayerful worship can appropriately vary in tone with our current circumstances, but the common thread is a joy surpassing the mere emotions of the moment.  In cases of serious illnesses, suffering believers may request the elders of their church family to pray for them, anointing with oil.  This act is intended to remind the believer of his/her chosen, called, and sanctified status, set apart for the Lord's own purpose.  The prayer of the Apostles and laying on of hands could work miracles of healing by the Spirit's power during the New Testament era; in our modern context, the prayer of the elders, symbolic anointing, and laying on of hands is all done to petition the Lord to act, not to indicate special apostolic power in the elders' authority.  To the contrary, this concluding section of James' letter is driving home the power of prayer, which is intended to work first toward the spiritual healing of souls and the increasing of faith, and second to entrust physical healing to the Lord.  This, of course, does not replace the necessary practical steps of seeking medical aid, nor does it rule out the possibility of the Holy Spirit to perform a spontaneous miracle of divine healing.  As a poignant reminder, James points to Elijah, who was "like us" in faith, and saw God powerfully answer his prayers.  We too serve this one true God, who can act in supernatural ways should He so choose.  Ultimately, the Church community exists for rescue: to evangelize the lost, to encourage the suffering, and to confront and restore the wayward.  James' final point is that steadfastness in all of these areas depends ultimately on prayerful reliance upon God, and that such exercise of prayer must be done completely in faith (1.6).

The insight of skinned knees

At the time I started writing this post, my seven-month-old son was crying on the floor.  He is so very, very close to being able to roll over by himself.  If he's on his back, he can -- with some coaxing -- successfully get to his belly.  Going the other way is another matter.  He just can't yet manage that final push.  To be fair, we live in an old house with lots of uneven flooring, so some of his attempts at rolling over are literally uphill.  Which is completely unfair.  As is, I suppose, using your son's disadvantages as the impetus for a blog post.  But he's the son of a pastor/writer, so that's just part of the contract.

Through this new lens of fatherhood, I am gaining unique insights into God's love for me that I naively thought I understood all along.  For instance, in the midst of my undergrad, I wrote the following lyric for one of my band's songs:

Failures are the lasting lessons
I’ve got so much left to learn
I’ll crawl so I can walk, skin my knees and my pride
But never forget to smile
Chewing on the trials

The imagery I was after (nearly 10 years ago now) was exactly the phase of life my son is currently entering: the emerging independence of a human personality that is at once so confident and so determined, and yet so very incapable.  Zeke, like all human beings, must learn by bumping his head, by taking those intrepid first steps and falling down.  We learn by struggling.  The progression from a diet of milk to one of solid food is necessarily gradual.

Watching it literally happen in front of me, I now have a much better context for understanding the care and perseverance of our Heavenly Father.  God labors to teach us the way I labor to teach my son: He could very well step in and fix everything for us, yet He lovingly allows us the opportunity to struggle, to learn, and to worship Him all the more for it.  Sometimes, Zeke needs me to step in and give him a push.  Other times, it's better for me to wait, so he can push himself just a little harder.  He doesn't always appreciate it when I opt for the latter.

But then again, neither do I when God does the same thing to me.

In the midst of each spiritual battle and God-ordained challenge, Christians face a choice: either embrace the opportunity the adversity represents in order to trust God more and grow in our faith, or instead adopt a shortsighted, embittered preoccupation with trying to eliminate as much difficulty in our lives as possible, complaining all the while.  The sad thing is that, when we take the latter course of action, we miss the opportunity for true joy.

In our Wikipedia/YouTube culture -- where answers and solutions should never be more than one click away -- endurance is a concept that needs revisiting.  Even for Christians, it's easy to become discouraged when facing the same sin struggle day after day, or having to forgive someone for the 489th time.  We might be tempted to want the same type of immediate gratification our world craves.  It is an immaturity -- not unlike my son whining with one arm tucked helplessly under his side -- that demands immediate solutions.  On the other hand, it is absolutely NOT immaturity for us to cry out to the Father for help, provided we begin learning to ask the right things from the right heart attitude.

The Apostle Paul penned some pretty famous words in his epistle to the Philippians, words that are often stripped of their rich meaning.  Speaking of his own challenges with regard to sharing the gospel, he wrote, "I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound.  In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need.  I can do all things through him who strengthens me." (Phil 4.12-13)  And that, Paul says, is connected to the ability to know true joy -- to endure hardship and be closer to God for the struggle.  The ability to "do all things" is not some promise of superpowers.  The power that Paul speaks of is the power that God abundantly supplies in the gospel of Jesus Christ and the presence of the Holy Spirit.  It is a power that, ironically, requires us to be dependent upon God.  It is a power that is only accessible via weakness.

The "secret" of facing plenty, hunger, abundance, and need is through HIM.

That's why our skinned knees are so valuable.  They shouldn't just teach us practical lessons about how to do it better next time.  They should teach us to lean into a source of power that is beyond our limited abilities -- one that is best expressed in our weakness.  If we are willing to focus on the One who never fails, who never changes, and who never requires us to do anything He won't lead us through, suddenly our spiritual growth is not an insurmountable mountain or a life of isolation and drudgery.  It is a walk with God.

I love to walk with Zeke -- for the time being, with him in my arms, or in the stroller, or strapped to my chest.  Sometimes with him upside-down over my shoulder.  The type of delight I feel when he smiles or learns something new is a taste of the type of delight our Heavenly Father takes in my daily dependence on Him.  And the reality is that, once Zeke masters this whole rolling over thing, there will be another challenge for him to face.  And another one.  Likewise, our spiritual growth isn't about one day or even one year.  It is a lifelong process.  My hope for Zeke is that, as he matures, he learns not to whine or complain, but to ask for help, and to trust in the wisdom and care his Mama and I can provide.  An even greater thing is true of each Christian's walk with God, because God is not only worthy of our trust, He is worthy of our worship.  The adoration we must give Him is not because He craves it or is incomplete without us: we give it because no other is worthy of receiving it.

We would therefore do well to stop relying on ourselves, cease our complaining spirits, and instead cry out to God daily for help with every challenge we face.   Spiritual maturity is not (contrary to popular opinion) independence and theological intellect, but rather learning to more fully depend on the transforming grace that God abundantly supplies.

Twelve practical things to do while suffering

This is an ongoing topic that warrants frequent posts on the subject, and anytime I come across a really solid discussion on the matter, it's worth sharing those ideas.  For that reason, I've plagiarized and adapted this list from Ed Welch's blog.  His quotes are in italics, and I take no credit for these ideas.

Ed, If you should happen to read this, thanks... and please don't sue.

~*~

Twelve Practical Things to Do While Suffering

Don’t be surprised when bad things happen (and don't be surprised when they get worse) (1 Pet 4.12)

"We won't be spared the sufferings that the world experiences; we will participate in them -- both for the world’s benefit and our own."

Remember not only that Jesus suffered, but that He also promised those who truly follow Him would experience the same.  That falls under the job description of picking up a cross to follow Him.  This isn't found in the Bible's fine print, but boldly in Christ's testimony to His disciples.

He also didn't instruct us to pray for relief as our first priority.  Instead, through the pen of James, He encouraged endurance and patience that would lead to the perfecting of our faith (1.3).  Endurance and long-suffering aren't character traits that develop through quickly relieved pain: they emerge only as we carry on, relying more completely upon His strength as our personal weakness only increases, revealing more and more how much we need Him.

Suffering is a benefit to us because it conditions our hearts to depend upon Him.  It's a benefit to the world because it enables us to be empathetic and nurtures within us a compassion for those who are perishing -- so that we might reach them with the good news.

Live by faith in order to see the unseen (Heb 2.2)

"Our eyes will tell us that God is far away and silent, but the truth is that he is close—invisible—but close."

Faith, as defined by Hebrews 11, is the substance of things hoped for and unseen.  It is forsaking the need for tangible evidence and trusting without doubt -- with complete certainty.  It's a faith that is confirmed in the person of Christ.  God's nearness is a good and permanent reality (Psa 73.28).  Through the vehicle of faith, He enables us to trust completely in His omnipresence.  Though our eyes might not see Him working, we know that He is.

Learn to distinguish between the pains of persecution, discipline, and human experience (Rom 8.22)

We can lump suffering into one category, but there is a huge difference between suffering for Jesus, suffering because we've done something wrong, and suffering simply because we are human.  The deaths of loved ones, the pain of illness, the aches of old age -- these are all the result of creation groaning for the Lord's return.  They are the degenerative effects of sin upon our world.  Some types of physical pain are the result of sinful choices, certainly: the grief of committing murder and the discomfort of incarceration are direct results of sin, as is the experience of an STD gained from a life of wanton sexuality.  There are real, physical, and emotional consequences for some sins.  However, not all pain arises directly from our mistakes.  Like Jesus told His disciples, a man isn't born blind simply because he or his parents sinned, but so that God's glory can be manifested (John 9.3).  Affliction has everything to do with the fallen nature in our world and the intention of God to glorify Himself through its redemption.

We would be wise to distinguish what suffering persecution feels like as well.  Suffering for Christ does not include denying yourself a lunch at Applebee's so that you can put a little more into the offering plate on Sunday.  However, it might include ruining a promotion for yourself because you were willing to make an ethical decision despite company policy, and then to be vocal about the Biblical reason for doing so.  It might include being willing to speak out against a brother or sister's sinful behavior even if it means losing them as a friend.  American Christians especially are guilty of labeling a personal act of "sacrifice" an experience of suffering for Jesus, but we can't assume that our self-imposed façade of suffering is the result of following Christ.  It is only when our righteousness sparks a negative reaction from our sinful world that our experience falls under the umbrella of persecution.

The point is this.  We will suffer throughout our sojourn on this earth -- for numerous reasons, and there is an appropriate response to each (Jas 5.13).  Furthermore, we will suffer because Christ endured all things and we are following in His footsteps.

Remember that suffering will reveal what is really in your heart (Jas 1.2; Matt 12.34)

"Where do you turn when tested?  Do you turn toward Jesus or turn inward?"

Do we become frustrated when things don't go the way we expected, or do we cast all of our cares upon Him because it is His compassion that revives our souls (1 Pet 5.7)?  The nature of how we respond will reveal the condition of our hearts.  And if we respond with pride or bitterness, then the suffering we are experiencing might ultimately prove to be a vehicle of the Lord's design for change and spiritual growth.

Remember that God is God, I am not (Job 38-42)

"Humility and submission before the King can quiet some of your questions."

God answers Job from out of the whirlwind

As James wrote, wisdom is given to the man who asks in faith (1.5).  If we want to know why God is leading us through the fire or the waves, then we must first be humble enough to acknowledge that He knows best and we do not.

In the example of Job, God's response to the man of righteousness' questions was to elaborate only on the infinite wonders of His work and His character.  He didn't provide answers.  He provided a dissertation on who He is.

He is God, we are not.

To question Him in arrogance is to deny any possibility of genuine understanding.  If we choose instead to remember who He is -- in addition to His unfailing promises to us -- sometimes the questions we want so badly to be answered can become comparatively insignificant.

Confess sin (Heb 12.1, 2)

"Confession always helps you to see the cross of Jesus more clearly.  It is the quickest way to see the persistent and lavish love of God."

Confession and humility go hand-in-hand.  Together, they are the joint acknowledgement of our imperfection and our dependence upon the blood of Christ to make us new.  Suffering is an opportunity to reflect upon our sinfulness -- not necessarily that we have done something to deserve our current predicament, but that we deserve far worse than we have received.  John's first epistle affirms that we have sinned in all ways -- in action, in attitude, and in our very nature -- and yet God promises restoration to the one who humbles himself to the point of confession (1 John 1.9).  Suffering is an opportunity to make right areas of our lives we might not otherwise have considered.

Study the example of the Suffering Servant (Isa 53)

"He has entered into your suffering, and you can enter into his."

Jesus' experience as a human was one of intimate acquaintance with pain, grief, and despair.  He knew the rejection of men as well as the holy wrath of His Father -- wrath He incurred at no fault of His own, but for taking the sins of the world upon His own back.  He knew isolation and hardship, and was tempted as all men are (Heb 4.15).  He endured the cross.  He went to the grave.

Furthermore, He promised the disciples that suffering would pursue them all of their days.  Since the world had hated Him, it would inevitably hate them if they followed in His steps.  When we find ourselves in the midst of suffering, it is a prime opportunity to study the example of Christ -- to appreciate anew the richness of His mercy and the costliness of his sacrifice.  It is through suffering that we can more fully identify with Him.

Develop a consistent prayer life

"Speak honestly and often to the Lord."

Prayer is more often than not a last resort.  It often sits unused at the bottom of the toolbox.  Suffering can help us to make it a priority.  It can also deepen our communication with God.  Instead of the flighty, shallow, and unrealized requests we offer before bedtime and meals, we can pray more earnestly about our condition -- both physical and spiritual.  We can learn to worship him in the desert so that we can continue to praise Him with gratitude when we reach the mountaintop.  Use the time of suffering to grow your dependence upon God through prayer.

Expect to get to know God better while in this wilderness (Phil 3.10-11)

The wilderness is a place designed for transformation.  Sometimes it is necessary to be relieved of the baggage we carry in order to see God more clearly.  By that, I mean sometimes God allows us to lose the things that are most important to us -- jobs, possessions, relationships -- in order to divert our attention from these secondary pursuits to the one of primary importance (Psa 39.11).

God works through weakness.  He reveals Himself to those who recognize their need.  In the wilderness, we grow less dependent upon ourselves and more dependent upon Him.  If we remained in a place of comfort, we would not have the opportunity to learn the type of lessons God teaches when we are at the place of desperate need.

Learn from those who have shared this experience...

"Be moved with compassion as you hear other stories of suffering."

Empathy is developed through suffering.  Mutual pain is emotionally moving because another's circumstances are so similar to our own history.  We pray more earnestly for people who are going through the same thing we once did.  We want to help someone who is struggling to find the path that took us years to find on our own.  Therefore, when we are in that place of weakness, we should understand that we can lean into the wisdom of others who have been where we currently are.  Christians should help each other through the wilderness, because that is true fellowship.

...so that means seek help and be honest

We often want help but are too embarrassed to ask.  Maybe we think people won't understand, or maybe we don't want people to think that we're weak.  Sometimes, we make a halfhearted attempt to open up, but only give a partial truth about what we are truly experiencing.  Other times we just seek out the comforting words we want to hear by complaining to a sympathetic or commiserating friend -- as opposed to getting the advice we need to hear.

If we are wandering into a valley of sin, we should be quick to find accountability and godly counsel in order to find our way out of the snare.  If we are swimming through a sea of emotional pain or spiritual oppression, there is inherent strength in the unity of the Body -- a strength that we cannot access on our own.  The Body of Christ exists to glorify God by helping each other on the road of righteousness.  The edification and accountability Christian fellowship provides are necessary to spiritual living.

If you were suffering from a physical ailment, you would go to a doctor.  Why not seek the same type of help when you are suffering spiritually?

Look ahead (Ps. 84)

"We are on a pilgrimage that ends at the temple of God."

Suffering should provide incentive to develop an eternal perspective.  Like nothing else, it should cause us to exclaim, "Take the world and give me Jesus!"  It is worshipful to yearn for the day when we shall be with Christ, seeing Him face-to-face and savoring the peaceful repose His Kingdom provides.  We certainly aren't home yet, but we can long to be.  Suffering is an opportunity to increase our desire to be with Christ and learn to take joy in anticipation of eternity spent worshipping Him.

Eliminating the "Feel-Good" Gospel

"The typical gospel," wrote Dr. Scott Johnson in 2006, "that most churches set forth in America is [best defined as follows]: 1. popular, 2. does not offend the sinner, 3. would be considered 'politically correct,' 4. will not violate any hate crime legislation, 5. will usually assure job stability for the Pastor and line his pockets nicely as he is a hireling and has no true love for the sheep.  It will usually manifest itself as 'The Jesus Loves You' gospel and/or 'A loving Jesus would never send one of his children to hell' gospel." (Beware of the Feel Good Gospel).

Seven years have not seen much change.  If anything, the proclamation of such false gospels has only increased.  The sad reality is that this is not a counter- or anti-Christian movement aimed at reforming the religion.  This is a problem coming from within the assembly of God.  This is about trying to make the faith more acceptable and more inclusive by propagating a "God loves you just the way you are" doctrine to a spiritually hungry generation.  This is about wolves in sheep's clothing taking chisels to the narrow gate in an attempt to widen its restrictive parameters - just a little bit at a time.

We fool ourselves and others when we attempt to make the gospel palatable by softening its defining edges.  Things like the fact that we are helplessly terrible people and that we need a Savior to sacrifice Himself on our behalf, or things like the fact that God enacts salvation and we have nothing to do with it rub people the wrong way.  We dislike everything about the gospel that reveals how weak and needy we truly are.  And so we invent an alternative - one that cleans up all the bloodstains so that everyone wins and no one is ever sad again.

The real root of the problem is our inflated sense of self-worth.  We think about the gospel in terms of what it gets us, and so that's what we sell to unbelievers: "Accept Jesus so you don't have to go to hell" or "Accept Jesus so you don't have to feel guilty anymore."  Sure, that's all well and good, but is that enough?  When we make the giving of grace all about us, those who receive it, then the answer is yes - that is enough.  Why bother including anything else when the gospel is all about taking our sip from the fountain?  We effectively divorce the gift from the Giver in an attempt to allow ourselves the slack we need to continue living the way we want while still playing it safe.  In this line of thinking, we grossly misunderstand the gospel.

Let's recall that our salvation wasn't the primary reason Christ came.  Lifting us out of our sinful condition was his goal, absolutely, but the primary reason God chose to extend grace to miserable, sinful human beings is because it pleased Him to do so and brought Him glory.  Redeeming our corrupt race through the death and resurrection of His Son was the ultimate means of magnifying His perfect love and His perfect forgiveness, and we who believe merely benefit from His lovingkindness.  We are absolutely marginal in the story of redemption.

But the Bible tells us that God came for sinners because He loved us!  Right?

A good friend of mine was sharing with me recently that we misunderstand the "so" in John 3.16.  We read "For God so loved the world that He gave his only begotten Son" and think the "so" means "extravagantly," "deeply," "equivocally."  And while it is absolutely true that the Father's love for us is vast beyond all measure (1 John 4.7, 19; Luke 15), we change the original meaning of John 3.16 when we improperly place such an emphasis on this little adverb.  How it should read is as follows:

"13 No one has ascended into heaven except he who descended from heaven, the Son of Man. 14 And as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, 15 that whoever believes in him may have eternal life. 16 For God [in this way; in the same manner] loved the world[:] that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life. 17 For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him."

The "so" in the verse is comparative, not emphatic.  For just as God provided salvation to Moses and the Israelites in the wilderness, so He offers salvation to the rest of the world by lifting up His Son for all to receive.  We have nothing to do with that.  God's motivation includes us, but it is not about us.  So why do we feel at liberty to make ourselves the focal point of the gospel?  We are merely the recipients of a great gift, and not any way the cause of it.

When we elevate ourselves to such a place of priority, it is only natural that the next thing we should do is change the requirements the gospel places on us.  If we are the glorified party in salvation, then Christ did all the hard work for my benefit so that I can live a stress-free, white-collar, American Christian life.  But that's not at all what the Bible teaches.  In fact, Scripture points to the hard work that Jesus did accomplish on our behalf and tells us that we should do likewise.  Christ told His disciples that if they truly desired to follow Him, they would need to get behind Him in line with their own crosses on their shoulders (Matt 16.24).  This means that, far from granting us a glorified and comfortable life, the gospel instead grants us the potential privilege of suffering.

Yes, you read that correctly.

The gospel enables us to participate in the suffering of Christ because it is our opportunity not only to identify ourselves with our Savior, but also to pare back the worthless things in our lives and truly hone in on righteous living.  If sin is the elevation of our desires above God's, then suffering for righteousness decreases our drive to pursue sinful things.  Peter teaches us that when we live righteously and suffer for it, instead of discouraging us from continuing down that path, the suffering will actually help us cease from sinning (1 Peter 4.1; 2.21).  It's a dose of reality - the reality that we are called to suffer with Christ and that the things we used to chase in this life really aren't worth the time when there is something more rewarding in store.

But once again, we need to be careful, because even the suffering is not about us.  As Paul wrote to the Corinthians, the Lord's grace is sufficient to sustain us, and His power is made perfect in our weakness (2 Cor 12.9).  Suffering, therefore becomes all about what God is doing, not what we are capable of withstanding.  We think self-centeredly about our problems, but God has a much bigger plan for our lives, and suffering reveals it.  Therefore, suffering for a Christian is certain.  It should not give us pause to wonder why when terrible things are happening in our lives.   When Jesus sent out his 72 followers, he warned them that He was “sending us as lambs in the midst of wolves,” and His instructions to us contain the same (Luke 10.3).  Our Savior never called us into a "state of uncertainty, but to one of supreme certainty" (Bonhoeffer, The Cost of Discipleship).  When we possess a true understanding of the gospel, we know with supreme certainty that believing in Christ and living for Him will result in a suffering.  But we also know that it is purposeful.  Suffering is both testing and refining, and when we continue patiently through it, we will become more like Christ in the end.

That's what the gospel is all about.

The gospel is a life-changing message that has absolutely nothing to do with us.  It was delivered for our benefit, to fully satisfy the impossible debt our wanton living had rung up - but not because our situation demanded that God rectify it.  Rather, it was purely His will to crush the Messiah on our behalf, because it would magnify His fathomless love and mercy (Isa 53.10).  Ultimately, the gospel was given so that we could use that gift of freedom, which we did nothing to deserve, to turn around and give all glory and praise and thanksgiving back to the Redeemer.

The gospel is all about Jesus.

Contentment in Comfort and Catastrophe

Situational living is part of the Christian walk.  By that, I mean the daily denial of self in order to meet challenges with patience and joy, rolling with the punches and learning to appreciate each blow to the jaw as instructional.  As Paul put it to the Philippians, we should be “content in every situation” without exception (4.11).  Unfortunately, I think we miss that mark on both ends of the spectrum.  Are we content in the valleys, trusting in the provision and protection of the Father, or do we find ourselves complaining instead, pleading for a more comfortable situation?  Do we remain faithful on the mountaintops, giving glory to our Father when our lives are full of blessings, or do we allow that sense of elation solidify into complacence-facilitating pride?

The greatest thing the Lord values is consistence in His children.  The emotional and spiritual roller coaster lives we live are the product of living in an unstable world.  We shouldn't require weekend retreats to re-kindle passion for ministry.  We shouldn't crawl from Sunday to Sunday, like living paycheck to paycheck, in order to be revived in our pursuit of righteousness.  Regardless of our circumstances, our faith in the Lord should be our constant propulsion.  The passage in Revelation 3 in which Christ threatens to vomit the church of Laodecia from His mouth is less about His rejection of unbelievers than His desire for usefulness to the kingdom.  Both cold and hot water have functions, but lukewarm water stagnates.  As Matthew Henry recorded in his commentary on the New Testament, “[Just] as lukewarm water turns the stomach, and provokes to a vomit, lukewarm professors turn the heart of Christ against them.  He is sick of them, and cannot long bear them.  They may call their lukewarmness charity, meekness, moderation, and a largeness of soul; it is nauseous to Christ, and makes those so that allow themselves in it.”  Lukewarmness results from going with the flow, allowing circumstance to dictate how we live.  This type of existence is useless to God: He desires followers whose hearts praise Him in both the valleys and on the mountaintops.

The story of Job is the classic example of faith in suffering.  His life is a testament to the fact that all believers can remain faithful even in the worst of circumstances.  In one afternoon, Job lost his seven sons, his three daughters, and every last beast from his impressive herds of cattle – herds which were his livelihood.  But instead of blaming God, Job turned his mourning into worship – certainly grieving his situation, but without sinning (Job 1.20-22) -- at least, initially.

What about us?  Do we worship in spite of and because of our circumstances?  Too often we have the audacity to show contempt for the One who gives us the strength to overcome any challenge.  Because He has chosen to allow us to experience a hardship, one which is intended to grow us more into the image of His son, we feel slighted, forgetting that our God desires to work on us, to perfect us for His glory and our ultimate good.  Yet we have nothing but frustration for Him in those times.

"How dare He take that from me?"

"How dare He put that obstacle in my path when He knows I struggle with that?"

"How dare He challenge my thinking when I've understood it this way for as long as I can remember?"

We have a severely misplaced sense of ownership, right, and privilege.  We are far too prideful, and far too easily satisfied with easy physical and emotional comfort.  If we can only be “strong” Christians when living at the height of stability, what is that faith really worth?  What good is our claim to love God more than anything else if we become self-interested when our plans seem to be coming together?  In either situation, we tend to worship the gift more than the Giver, simply because the gift is more tangible: either we cling to what we have, or we crave what we lack.

I think the guy in Scriptures who had the most going for him was unquestionably Solomon.  Anyone who can spend 13 years building his mansion, who did not possess any dishes which weren't made of solid gold, and who had the opportunity to ask the Lord for anything (and, in choosing wisdom, veritably received everything) is a person who understands the allure of earthly contentment.  Predictably, Solomon's life is a paradoxical example: while he initially demonstrates the heart attitude which we as believers should maintain when life is good, he later models idolatrous behavior which we should clearly not emulate.  As a result of what he began to consider his successful reign over Israel, Solomon's heart wandered from the Lord's, and he even began worshipping other gods at the behest of his 700 wives and 300 concubines.  It is in Ecclesiastes which Solomon (likely) records the futility of such a lifestyle, acknowledging that “God gives wisdom and knowledge and joy to a man who is good in His sight; but to the sinner He gives the work of gathering and collecting” (Ecc 2.26).  Ironically, the author of Ecclesiastes now considers the accumulation of wealth to be nothing more than a chore, a delegated task to one undeserving.

Neither you nor I will know the wealth which Solomon possessed.  However, we do know his pride, because we become enamored with our own successes – no matter how small.  We want to be self-made men and women, independent and respected.  But we must remember that we owe all credit to the One who is truly in control.  If my identity is found in Christ alone, then the wealth of this world can have no hold upon my heart, because true value is found only in the pursuit of righteousness.  When life is good, I should take opportunity to express heartfelt gratitude to the Lord, not take my turn in the spotlight.

The apostle Paul gives an important reminder to the believers at Ephesus at the end of chapter 3: “Now to Him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us, to Him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever” (Ephesians 3.20, 21). In one breath, Paul ascribes to God the praise He so justly deserves and simultaneously reminds the reader that our Savior has given so much more than we can ever ask – or even imagine. He is the father who knows how to give good gifts, who is a “very present help in times of trouble” (Matt 7.7-11; Jas 1.16-18; Psa 46.1-3). Yet we still manage to grow discontent with His provision in the times that are less than rosy. We blame God for our awful circumstances instead of viewing them through the lens of thankfulness. We become prideful at our achievements instead of recognizing God's sovereign hand over our relative good fortune.

The fact of the matter is that we have been abundantly blessed, and despite the fact that circumstances may change around us for better or worse, that blessing does not change.  This is due to the fact that blessings do not equate to material things.  We say things all the time like, “God blessed us with this house,” which is certainly a true statement, but let us not mistakenly think that the house is the manifestation of God's blessing.   There is no profit to be had under the sun, even though everything we have is God-given (Ecc 2.11).  That house could burn to the ground, but that would not mean that God had taken away His blessing.  The true blessing we've received, God's unending love for us in the person of His Son, never fails.  We often think of the love chapter (1 Corinthians 13) as a checklist of what horizontal love amongst our brothers and sisters should emulate, but it is also a description of the vertical love which God shares with us.  His love is perfect, His love is patient, His love is kind.  His incomparable love keeps no record of wrong.   In unending gratitude, we should seek to love Him so perfectly in return.

Our yearning for a better and better relationship with God enables us to be content with nothing in this world because our love for God is unfailing, insatiable, and ultimately not tied to earthly comfort.  Likewise, when life seems to be a smooth ride, humbly seeking His face enables us to avoid complacence and self-worship.  Although this world has plenty of distractions to offer, none brings the ultimate joy and satisfaction of relationship with almighty God.

So the question then remains: in either situation, in wealth or famine, which do you love more – your God, or your comfort?  Your growth or your immediate gratification?  Your God or your god?

Tempter-Sent or Tempest-Tossed

Praying for God to remove the pain of affliction is asking for a quick–fix solution.  It's looking to jump through the fire without being singed, only to be completely unprepared for the next trial which looms on the other side, brighter and hotter than the one previous.  A lesson is worthless if it has no application, after all.  As Bono put it in Yaweh, “There's always pain before a child is born.”  Perhaps not the most astute observation he's ever made, but the idea is sound: pain is always attached to beauty.  In fact, in the context of that particular song, beauty is the end result of pain.  In the same vein, the Scriptures would teach that it is through suffering that followers of Christ are grown, tested, and transformed.  Although painful experiences certainly aren't fun by any estimation, we are still encouraged to “count it all joy” when we encounter them, because the end result of any affliction is the fruit of patience (Jas 1.2).

As I sit writing this, the thought running through my head is probably similar to what you, reading it, will also be thinking: “Right.  Easier said than done.”  And if that isn’t the truth, I don’t know what is.  Christians (myself included) like to talk a lot about the appropriate Biblical responses to situations and circumstances which beset us, but when the rubber actually meets the road, we are often caught up in our own wants and emotions and stumble as a result.  Purely by the grace of God, however, it is always possible to regain our footing and look to our Father for the guidance and the strength we need to carry on.

So, temptation and suffering.  What distinguishes them, and – more importantly – how do we deal with them?

I think it's safe to assume that most people have read or are at least familiar with Edgar Allen Poe’s “The Raven,” a dark and poem about lost love.  The Alan Parsons Project even wrote a concept album around it and other memorable works of Poe.  While it is not absolutely clear in the text what has happened to Lenore, the woman for whom the narrator pines, but knowledge of the losses in Poe’s personal life and the tragic fates which typically befell the personas in his writings make it safe to assume that she has succumbed to death.  Late one night, “dark and dreary,” the narrator of the poem finds himself unable to sleep and is idly flipping through old books of literature to distract himself from his misery when he is confronted by the raven, a supernatural harbinger of doom.  Desperately, the narrator pleads with the specter to identify itself or simply to give reason for its unscheduled visitation, even though he seems to already knows the answer.  However, the raven, be it a tempter–sent demon or a tempest–tossed prophet, offers no answers with his repeated reply: “Nevermore.”

There is a line toward the conclusion of the poem when the narrator, beginning to grow frantic, beseeches the Raven, “Is there – is there balm in Gilead? – tell me – tell me, I implore!”  His question is an echo of God's own words in Jeremiah 8.22: “Is there no balm in Gilead?  Is there no physician there?  Why then has the health of the daughter of my people not been restored?”  Gilead is a mountainous area east of the Jordan River between the Sea of Galilee and the Dead Sea, and plenteous evergreens growing there were a source of medicinal resins in Biblical times.  By asking for “balm in Gilead,” the narrator of “The Raven” is desperately seeking some type of cure for his omnipresent misery, some reassurance that he will see his lost Lenore again.  Descending further into hysteria, he demands in the following stanza, “Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn / It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore – / Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”  The raven's only reply is his horrible croak: “Nevermore!”

"Balm of Gilead" is a popular literary metaphor for the 

divine alleviation of pain and sorrow.

This brings me to my first point: we are constantly seeking alleviation of pain.  We all enjoy comfort and peace, we all want our “balm in Gilead” when life requires bandages.  No one in their right mind desires to be constantly tormented, no matter what the reason behind it.  However, as I’ve already stated above, such a desire for easy living is counter–productive to the point of the Christian lifestyle.  Every trial God allows us to face is there for a specific reason.  Matthew Henry’s commentary on the first chapter of James states, “Christianity teaches men to be joyful under troubles: such exercises are sent from God’s love; and trials in the way of duty will brighten our graces now, and our crown at last.”  How beautiful is it that God is working to bless us both now and eternally?  He does not allow suffering for no reason.  He does not simply enjoy watching us squirm.  There is a purpose for every trial we must undergo in life, and the believer should “count it all joy” because it means God is actively working in his or her life.

In his daily devotionals, C. H. Spurgeon wrote, “When he [the Christian] is burdened with troubles so pressing and so peculiar, that he cannot tell them to any but his God, he may be thankful for them; for he will learn more of his Lord then than at any other time.  Oh, tempest-tossed believer, it is a happy trouble that drives thee to thy Father!  Now that thou hast only thy God to trust to, see that thou puttest [sic] thy full confidence in him.”  Here is the other reason for our trials: we need to be repeatedly shaken of our self–dependence.  Not only do we want comfortable and easy lives, but we also want to be in control, to be autonomous.  When things are going smoothly, we feel safe and we grow prideful.  However, when everything begins to unwind at the seams, that is the moment we realize our need, and the trouble drives us to our Father – our Father who was in control the whole time.  Trials and suffering help us to see our need for God more clearly.

That being said, it is often difficult to draw a line between what is “tempest–tossed” and what is “tempter–sent” – in other words, what is the discipline or instruction of God in our lives and what is the attack of Satan.  The problem is that there can be no definitive answer, and trying to interpret the situation in which you find yourself can often be detrimental to simply focusing on living righteously through that situation.  There's a lot of reading material out there dealing with delineation between temptations and trials, and even between divine correction and punishment, but such studies aren't nearly as pertinent as understanding our response to suffering.  Our responsibility is to “count it all joy” and magnify the Lord, because we trust in His perfect plan, and because we depend upon His provision alone.  As Christians, it is far more important to understand what our appropriate response to suffering should be and put it into practice rather than to waste time trying to identify where our pain is coming from (2 Cor 4:7-18; 8.1–15).

There are some things that we need to remember when we find ourselves buffeted.  The first is that God does not tempt anyone to sin (Jas 1.13).  He does not tantalize or deceive, and he certainly does not nudge us toward a sinful decision just to see if we love Him enough to say no.  It is also clear through Scriptures that God sometimes allows the believer to come under significant attack by Satan in order that he or she might grow to trust God more (see the story of Job).  Clearly, God tests us for the purpose of growing our faith, refining it through fire.  That can look like the loss of a loved one or a failed relationship, or even the spiritual oppression by a prominent person in your life.  Regardless of the means, God will challenge us to grow, and allow us to be tempted, because it will conform us more and more to the image of His son.

People, Christians or otherwise, typically don't like this idea.  I've heard the angry rejections (“If God really loved me, He wouldn't do this to me”) and the distorted understandings of God's hand of discipline (“God took my child because I didn't pray enough”).  I certainly can't slap a definitive label on your circumstances, but I can tell you that God is not heartless, and He does not act without reason.  He is not a sultry, jealous lover whose self–love drives Him to make sure we really really love Him – as Max Jacob (a French Poet) characterized Him in his Symposium poems.  While God certainly chastises us for the purpose of correction, He does not punish – He corrects, and He does so lovingly, not out of anger.  He is motivated by His own glorification and His love for us, and therefore He holds our best interests at heart.  This road we walk is about two things: firstly, God's glory, and secondly, our sanctification.  Both will be accomplished, and both will require a measure of pain – the kind which strips away our callouses and makes us soft to the impression of the Spirit.

Angry people do not grow in their faith.  It is not “okay” to be angry at or “have it out” with God.  The audacity that comes with the territory of airing one's grievances to God literally fills me with a sense of fear.  We are so ungrateful to our merciful, loving Father, who is constantly caring and providing for us as His children.  We accuse and we grow miserable, and without even batting an eye, we criticize the One who, in His infinite mercy and wisdom, has brought us to the hard points in our lives for very specific and ultimately love–driven reasons.  As the Lord demanded of Job out of the whirlwind, “Who is this that darkens counsel by words without knowledge?  Dress for action like a man; I will question you, and you make it known to me” – as though a mere man could instruct the creator of the universe (Job 38.2-3).  The Lord then proceeds, for the next two chapters, to list His works of creation and other acts of power, and Job can do nothing but bow his face to the earth in fear of the Lord's holiness, ashamed at his own pride for questioning the Almighty.

In his book, Irresistible Invitation (not a book I recommend, though it does contain some useful insight), Maxie Dunnam writes: “The providential care of God does not protect us from the bumps and bruises of life, nor from the struggle – and sometimes tragedy – of living.  Brothers betray brothers.  Husbands desert wives.  Good people lose their jobs…Hurricanes devastate cities.  Tornadoes destroy trailer parks and rivers flood towns.  An earthquake in the middle of the ocean causes a tsunami a thousand miles away.  As such, it may not always seem apparent that every part of God’s creation is good.  But we can be confident that God is always working out His magnificent plan of redemption.” What we often fail to recognize is that calling God's providence His “plan” for our lives does not insinuate protection from pain.  However, it does incorporate God's loving care for His children.  Isaiah 43.2 records for us the fact that when Israel passed through the fire, God was with them, and the same is true of us as well.  “I will be with you,” our Father promises in this passage.  He doesn't say, “You go and I'll watch from a distance.”

Therefore, we have no justifiable grounds to be angry with our God.  He is in control, and He has a plan for our lives.  It is easy to slip into anger and frustration when our emotions run high, and even then our Father is merciful and understanding.  But we must learn to recognize that these types of reactions to less–than–ideal circumstances are the tools of Satan.  The last thing he wants is for us to look at suffering the proper way and grow in our faith as a result of the experience.

If, on the other hand, you are comfortable in your Christianity and have been for some time, that should also send up warning flags of another nature in your heart.  Comfort is a good indicator that you have become lukewarm, content to go to church and maybe read the Bible, but the passionate love of God is absent from your heart.  The mission of Satan also includes a flanking strategy to distract believers from truly living out their faith.  There is no better way to accomplish this than to place images in front of them which will distract them from the bigger picture – images of Forbes–style American living and B–grade, watered–down Christianity.

Guy Debord's Society of the Spectacle is a book largely influenced by Marxist theory, but his critique of capitalist societies may be perhaps more pertinent to Christian living than expected.  Debord defines “the spectacle” as autonomous entity, sustained by society itself, because it renders within the people a desire for passivity through a mediated bombardment of desirable images.  The spectacle is obsession with making money, where the commodity has not only “attained the total occupation of social life,” but also become the means of interaction, the only connection for relationships, and a substitute for life itself.  The point is this: as American Christians, we like to give the minimum possible effort so that we can get back to our various forms of entertainment and relaxation.  Additionally, many of us make money our idol, not in the sense that we make burnt offerings in honor of Mammon, but in the sense that it dominates our time and our thinking: “Gotta work to afford my kids, gotta work to afford my bills.  Here's my tithe – not that I can afford it.  Gotta work overtime this week.”  By Debord's definition, glorification of the spectacle is desiring capital to “such a degree of accumulation that it becomes an image,” but idolatry begins long before we find ourselves sitting in front of our flat–screens while our interest accumulates.

As stated, God brings suffering into our lives is to make us more dependent upon Him.  He intentionally interrupts our daydreams of bigger homes and even our honorable desires to be good providers for our families to re–orient our focus.  “It is a happy trouble that drives thee to thy Father!” Spurgeon wrote, reminding us of the wonderful mercies of our Father's open arms.  Because we have a tendency to drift away from Him in the easy times, intentionally or otherwise trusting our own capacities rather than His, our loving Father allows trials into our lives both to strengthen us and to bring us running back to Him from wherever it is that we have wandered.  His arms are always open to receive us, no matter how many times we stray.  The promise in John's first epistle is not just for the repentant sinner coming to Christ for the first time: “If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness” (1 John 1.9).

Related to the themes in Debord's social critique, there is another incorrect perspective on suffering that haunts churches in America, and that is the idea that suffering is always a direct result of personal sin. Largely, this is the propaganda of the Prosperity Doctrine, or the Word of Faith movement – the idea that God wants everyone to be a believer so they can live happily on the earth, at peace with one another.  Granted, the movement's theology is significantly more skewed from a Biblical perspective than in this area alone (a general synopsis can be found here), but proponents of the Prosperity Doctrine would say that God wants his followers to be rich, to own thirty acres of land and five Jaguars apiece, and that if you don’t make six figures every year, it is because there is some sin in your life and God is punishing you by withholding material blessings.  In other words, if you find yourself beset by suffering while the rest of the congregation around you is rejoicing and content, it is because you are in sin.  According to this doctrine, God does not want believers to suffer.  He wants them to be happy.  This is the very rosy picture of Christianity that unfortunately infiltrates many presentations of the gospel and common perceptions of what Christianity itself represents.

Obviously this philosophy flies directly in the face of the inspired Word of God.  The story in John 9 of the man born blind is a clear discussion of the fact that suffering will exist in our lives regardless of the sins we’ve committed.  Additionally, Paul instructs the believer to count earthly gains as loss (Phil 3.7), and both Matthew and Mark speak into the fact that we as believers are called to give up earthly comfort because they are nothing more than distractions to our faith.  In Matthew 5.12 Jesus said, “Rejoice and be glad, for your reward in heaven is great; for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.”  This passage connects ideas of blessing and suffering to specific locales: blessings are stored for us in heaven, and suffering is a certainty of the believer's life on earth.   Granted, God has blessed us abundantly already through the work of His Son, and continues to renew our strength through the Spirit which indwells us, but these blessings are not tied to physical possessions or wealth (Eph 1:3, 4).  We are to store up treasures in Heaven, not on earth, because our servitude is to God alone – not to the American god of money (Matt 6.19-24).

I've been talking a whole lot.  Let me tie these things together.

The point I really want to get across is this: if we as believers are unable to rejoice in suffering and grow in the challenging times, then there is no possible way we can be useful to God.  This is the discussion about being salt and light to the world, and it immediately follows Jesus' admonition to expect persecution (Matt 5.13–16).  The testing of our faith produces patience, a characteristic which not only identifies us as followers of Christ but also enables us to love and serve one another (Gal 5.22–25).  God desires followers who are swift to hear and slow to speak (Jas 1.19), who can bridle their tongues and control their whole bodies (Jas 3.2), and who can use gentle words to dispel wrath (Prov 15.1).  If we cannot patiently and joyfully accept suffering for what it is and grow in our understanding of the tremendous purposes it serves, then all we value is our own physical, emotional, and social comfort.  We become like the narrator of “The Raven,” vainly pleading for respite from grief instead of capitalizing on the situation through the direction of the Holy Spirit.  In that state of mind, we fail to recognize that suffering is always a blessing in disguise, and certainly not something we should go out of our way to avoid (Phil 1.12 – 2.11).

It is also important to remember that, just as suffering is a recurring aspect of the believer’s life, so also resisting temptation is an active, lifelong struggle, and not a one–time vaccination.  This is illustrated through the famous “Armor of God” passage in Ephesians 6.  We are not taught how to arm ourselves against the “wiles of the devil” for one battle.  We will struggle against sin and temptation throughout our lives. Similarly, Peter's admonition to be sober and vigilant because our “adversary, the devil, prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour” serves as both warning and encouragement (1 Peter 5:8).  It's a warning because the attack is imminent, but it's also an encouragement, because verse 9 goes on to say, “Resist him, firm in your faith, knowing that the same kinds of suffering are being experienced by your brotherhood throughout the world.”  We are not alone in temptation or suffering.  Our brothers and sisters around the world are enduring the same temptations and the same sufferings, perhaps with different circumstances, but in the same war in which we all engage.  In other words, it is neither fair nor justified for us to sink into self–pity and think that no one understands our predicament.  The fact of the matter is that someone, somewhere has gone through the same experience.

Furthermore, we should be encouraged by the knowledge that Christ Himself endured all suffering and all temptation during His walk on the earth, more than just to simply provide an example for us to follow.  As the author of Hebrews recorded, Christ endured all the suffering and all the temptations that we as humans do, and is therefore able to sympathize with us in our weaknesses (Heb 2.18; 4.15).  As the result of our Father's perfect will, Christ is able to identify with us in our sufferings and the Holy Spirit guides us through them.  Matthew's account of Jesus' 40–day trial in the wilderness begins, “Then Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil.”  The parallel stories in the other gospels also use similar phrasing to illustrate the fact that Jesus was following the direct leading of the Holy Spirit (Matt 4.1–11; Mark 1.12,13; Luke 4.1–13).  If you trace those same Greek words for “led up” through the New Testament, you'll find them again in Galatians 5.18, which says, “But if you are led by the Spirit, you are not under the law,” and again in verse 25, which builds upon that foundation: “If we live in the Spirit, let us also walk in the Spirit.”  In in the context of Jesus' temptation, the Scriptures leave no doubt that if we are actively allowing the Spirit to lead us in our lives, then it is a guarantee that we will be brought into places of emotional drought and periods of suffering in the same way our Savior was.  Therefore, when we come upon the hard times and places of temptation, we should immediately remember that if anyone understands our pain and struggles, it is our Lord and Savior.

This understanding alone should bring incredible confidence to us as believers, recognizing that the God we love and serve is consistent and unchanging, flawless, and ultimately with us throughout our times of trials.  He does not fail, no matter how often we do.  In his most reputable work, The Confessions, St. Augustine wrote, “The vessels which are full of you do not lend you stability, because even if they break you will not be spilt.”  It may come as a bit of a shock to our human pride to recognize the fact that we do not support God, because He does not need us – even though He chooses us.  Yet at the same time, how comforting it is to know that the God who is with us in the times of suffering will never fail!  If we choose to let Him govern our lives, He holds us together from the inside out.

I don't know where your heart is as you sit reading this.  Maybe you're in a drought or maybe there is simply someone you have in mind who needs encouragement.  Regardless, remember the admonition of Moses to Joshua upon giving him leadership the people of Israel: “Be strong and courageous.  Do not be terrified or discouraged, for the Lord your God is the one who goes with you.  He will never leave you nor forsake you” (Deut 31:6).   This was true for Joshua and the Israelites, and it remains true for God's people today.

So avoid being like the narrator of “The Raven.”  Don't simply look for respite from suffering.  Look for the optimal path through the challenges, trusting the Lord's guidance, and be on the alert for the temptations encompassing you.  Pursue righteousness.  Recognize the providential care of our Savior, and the fact that He has a plan for your life.  Don't give in to stress or panic even though the world seems to be falling down around you.  The answer is “yes” – things could be a whole lot worse.  However, thankfully, our Father is the one who is in control, and He will faithfully carry both you and me through to the other side.  As believers, we can rest assured that everything the Lord does, is ultimately for His glory and for the good of those who love Him (Rom 8.28).  He Himself will be our balm in Gilead, because we are promised that, one day, He will wipe away every last tear from our eyes, our sorrow will be no more, and our journey will finally be at an end (Rev 21.3, 4).

~*~

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil! – prophet still, if bird or devil!–

Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,

Desolate, yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted –

On this home by Horror haunted – tell me truly, I implore –

Is there – is there balm in Gilead? – tell me – tell me, I implore!”

Quoth the raven, “Nevermore.”

from "The Raven" by Edgar Allan Poe (1845)