Suffering “For Christ” in Random Trials

“Only conduct yourselves in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ, so that whether I come and see you or remain absent, I will hear of you that you are standing firm in one spirit, with one mind striving together for the faith of the gospel; in no way alarmed by your opponents—which is a sign of destruction for them, but of salvation for you, and that too, from God. For to you it has been granted for Christ’s sake, not only to believe in Him, but also to suffer for His sake, experiencing the same conflict which you saw in me, and now hear to be in me.” – Philippians 1:27-29

Suffering for Christ has a somewhat romantic sound to it, doesn’t it? The New Testament is peppered with persecution for Christ, and it’s actually inspiring. The disciples in Acts “went on their way from the presence of the Council, rejoicing that they had been considered worthy to suffer shame for His name.” (Acts 5:41) Peter reminds early Christians that “to the degree that you share in the sufferings of Christ, keep on rejoicing...” (1 Peter 4:13), and that “if you are reviled for the name of Christ, you are blessed” (1 Peter 4:14). I read the stories of these and other true martyrs, and I’m ready to jump up and move across the world, just so I can suffer for the Name. (I’m a little bit of an idealistic visionary, so jumping to an extreme is normal for me…)

Instead of moving across the world to suffer for the sake of suffering, I’m staying put in the United States of America, where I’ve never been persecuted for my beliefs. I’m driving to an obvious church building on Sunday and worshiping in safety. I know that I’m not guaranteed continued freedom and safety. I’m ok with that. If the time ever comes for me to suffer for Christ, I want to welcome the opportunity to be like Him in His suffering, to have His love and grace shine through me. Right now, though, I live in a free first world country, and my problems are “first world problems.” I’m not suffering “for Christ” in the truest sense of sharing His suffering by being tortured because of my faith.

Because I’m an idealistic visionary, patience with “random trials” is difficult. If I’m not suffering for such a noble thing as Christ, then what’s the point in suffering? Recent motor vehicular problems, a conversation with a good friend about trials, and other problems in the lives of other friends prompted some of the following thoughts. What if “random trials” aren’t so random? What if there is a “for Christ” component to everyday, run-of-the-mill, middle class, American suffering? That’s a game changer. That’s something that’s worth suffering for. Consider this passage from the epistle written by a man named James:

“Consider it all joy, my brethren, when you encounter various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance. And let endurance have its perfect result, so that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.” – James 1:2-4

“Various trials.” I’m not completely certain what James meant by that phrase. Maybe he was talking about persecution for Christ; certainly that is one kind of trial. At least, as far as my NASB translates it though, he said “various trials.” Potentially, that covers a lot of ground. I’m entertaining the thought today that “various trials” includes my ‘first world problem’ style of trials. Trials produce results – endurance, perfect completion. I’d like to be perfect and complete, wouldn’t you?

Since Christ is perfect and complete, it makes sense to me that my random trials will make me like Him. Since that’s the goal, there is good in my random trials. All though not speaking of trials, Paul highlights the value of “growing up into Christ” here:

“And He gave some as apostles, and some as prophets, and some as evangelists, and some as pastors and teachers, for the equipping of the saints for the work of service, to the building up of the body of Christ; until we all attain to the unity of the faith, and of the knowledge of the Son of God, to a mature man, to the measure of the stature which belongs to the fullness of Christ.” – Ephesians 4:11-13

If “random trials” can make me like Christ, my response to them boils down to what I value. Do I value the freedom of having my own car to drive where I want to go, or do I value the relationship that my husband and I can build by sharing a car and depending on each other? Do I value independence, or do I value an unwavering trust in the Lord? When I value the perfection He wants to bring to me through random, maybe even petty, trials, there is no such thing as a bad outcome.

So then, I will rejoice even in my small trials. I will allow Christ to use them to make me like Him, perfect and complete. If persecution comes, I will allow Christ to make my like Him in that kind of suffering. For now, though, I will welcome the random, “first world” trials, fixing my eyes upward until He calls me home, finalizing and fixing my sanctification forever.

Obedience: Burden or Assurance?

 “Today I feel discouraged and disappointed. I certainly thought that if God really loved me, and I really loved Him, I should find myself growing better day by day. But I am not improved in the least. Most of the time I spend on my knees I am either stupid, feeling nothing at all, or else my head is full of what I was doing before I began to pray, or what I am going to do as soon as I get through. I do not believe anybody else in the world is like me in this respect. Then when I feel differently, and can make a nice, glib prayer, with floods of tears running down my cheeks, I get all puffed up, and think how much pleased God must be to see me so fervent in spirit. I go downstairs in this frame, and begin to scold Susan for misplacing my music, till all of a sudden I catch myself doing it, and stop short, crestfallen and confounded. I have so many such experiences that I feel like a baby just learning to walk, who is so afraid of falling that it has half a mind to sit down once for all.”

So begins a journal entry by poor Katherine, a young Christian girl in Elizabeth Prentiss’ book: Stepping Heavenward. Katherine’s story is so familiar to me, and, I think, so familiar to many of us. I cannot count the number of times that I have fallen asleep while praying, or have distracted myself just half a sentence in. I also cannot count the number of times that I have waltzed into a room on a “spiritual high,” only to be short and unkind with my mother. The roller coaster that plunges into despair just seconds after a fulfilling prayer is a cruel reality for so many of us.

I really think that most of us know better than this, but we still base our belief in our salvation on how close we feel to our Creator, or on how peaceful we feel during trials, or even on how many commandments we are obeying. 1 John 2:3-6 seems, on the surface, perhaps, to fuel our feverish efforts to obey every commandment we possibly can, and the fear that we have forgotten one or two, thus sealing a fate of eternal torment.

“By this we know that we have come to know Him, if we keep His commandments. The one who says, ‘I have come to know him,’ and does not keep his commandments is a liar, and the truth is not in him; but whoever keeps His word, in him the love of God has truly been perfected. By this we know that we are in Him: the one who says he abides in Him ought himself to walk in the same manner as He walked.”

Tonight, while sitting in my mid-week Bible class, this passage was framed for me in a new light. The teacher placed this section of John’s epistle under “assurance,” one of the broad themes we are exploring in our study of 1 John. As I sat there, thinking through these words, it was as if a world that was upside down turned itself over. For the first time, I could see the comfort John meant with these words. To illustrate, let’s turn again to Stepping Heavenward. Katherine has heard a sermon, inviting those who can’t tell whether they love God to attend a class. She attends, and this conversation between her and the preacher is recorded for us in Katherine’s journal:

“In the first place, then, you feel that you love your mother? But you never feel that you love your God and Saviour?”

“I often try, and try, but I never do,” I said.

“Love won’t be forced,” he said, quickly.

“Then what shall I do?”

The conversation continues, with Dr. Cabot asking Katherine several questions about whether she enjoys spending time with God, or hearing Him praised. We resume our eavesdropping here:

“But come now, why do you try to do what you think will please Him? Because it is easy? Because you like to do what He likes rather than what you like yourself?”

I tried to think, and got puzzled.

“Never mind,” said Dr. Cabot, “I have come now to the point I was aiming at. You cannot prove to yourself that you love God by examining your feelings towards Him. They are indefinite and they fluctuate. But just as far as you obey Him, just so far, depend upon it, you love Him. It is not natural to us sinful, ungrateful human beings to prefer His pleasure to our own, or to follow His way instead of our own way, and nothing, nothing but to love Him can or does make us obedient to Him.”

Can you see it with me? Dr. Cabot’s words help us to understand the assurance John offers in 1 John 2. If we are questioning whether we know, love, and are in Him, any obedience to Him is a sign that we do. Do you ever try to please Him? You could not do that if you did not love Him. C.S. Lewis beautifully elaborates on this point in chapter 8 of his famous book, The Screwtape Letters. Writing as a senior demon, and referring to Christ as The Enemy, he says:

“And that is where the troughs come in. You must have often wondered why the Enemy does not make more use of His power to be sensibly present to human souls in any degree He chooses and at any moment. But you now see that the Irresistible and the Indisputable are the two weapons which the very nature of His scheme forbids Him to use. Merely to override a human will (as His felt presence in any but the faintest and most mitigated degree would certainly do) would be for Him useless. He cannot ravish. He can only woo. For His ignoble idea is to eat the cake and have it; the creatures are to be one with Him, but yet themselves; merely to cancel them, or assimilate them, will not serve. He is prepared to do a little overriding at the beginning. He will set them off with communications of His presence which, though faint, seem great to them, with emotional sweetness, and easy conquest over temptation. But He never allows this state of affairs to last long. Sooner or later He withdraws, if not in fact, at least from their conscious experience, all those supports and incentives. He leaves the creature to stand up on its own legs – to carry out from the will alone duties which have lost all relish. It is during such trough periods, that it is growing in to the sort of creature He wants it to be. Hence the prayers offered in the state of dryness are those which please Him best…He cannot ‘tempt’ to virtue as we do to vice. He wants them to learn to walk and must therefore take away His hand; and if only the will to walk is really there He is pleased even with their stumbles. Do not be deceived, Wormwood. Our cause is never more in danger than when a human, no longer desiring, but still intending, to do our Enemy’s will, looks round upon a universe from which every trace of Him seems to have vanished, and asks why he has been forsaken, and still obeys.”

It is in those moments when we choose to obey even though it feels as if we’ve been deserted that we find our assurance that we do, in fact, love Him. The dry periods are no fun. Feeling deserted hurts. There is no need to pile on top of that the crushing weight of our doubt about whether we love Him. If you’re in a dry period, are you still stumbling in an effort to obey? If you answer yes, you love Him. Be assured. He will come for you, and you will bask in the fullness of His glory. Let obedience be an assurance instead of a burden.

A Hill to Die On

“Is that really a hill you want to die on?” It’s the question a good friend will ask when you are embroiled in a fight to the death with someone you love (maybe a spouse, child, parent, sibling, best friend, etc.) over something trivial. It’s a metaphorical way of asking, “Is this really that important to you?” We’ve all fought over things that didn’t really matter to us. We say, “It’s just the principle of the thing,” while we verbally tear down the world around us over whether or not to set the thermostat to 67 or 68 during the winter months.

I propose that these issues are hills to die on. Christian author and speaker Timothy Keller states, “All real, life-changing love is substitutionary sacrifice.” When you find yourself gridlocked over “the principle of the thing,” you find yourself with a powerful opportunity to show real love for the person with whom you’re fighting. You can choose to sacrifice yourself on that hill. These “petty” fights that escalate are, in fact, crucial hills to die on. These are the moments when your love for the other person is tested. “Wait!” you might wish to object. “Am I to understand that you want me to give up my principles and just let the other person walk all over me?! The principle of the matter is that s/he isn’t treating me in a loving way. Why on earth would I sacrifice myself on this hill??” Here are a couple of reasons.

True love covers sin.

“Hatred stirs up strife, but love covers all transgressions.” – Proverbs 10:12

“Above all, keep fervent in your love for one another, because love covers a multitude of sins.” – 1 Peter 4:8

A good friend used to ask me, “Stacey, can you just let love cover that?” in those moments when I was complaining about a wrong that I felt had been done toward me. It was never what I wanted to hear. With God’s help, I am slowly learning that letting love cover a transgression is the surest way to healing – both of myself and of the relationship being tried by conflict.

Jesus died on the ultimate “hill” for me.

“But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us. Much more then, having now been justified by His blood, we shall be saved from the wrath of God through Him. For if while we were enemies we were reconciled to God through the death of His Son, much more, having been reconciled, we shall be saved by His life. And not only this, but we also exult in God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have now received the reconciliation.” – Romans 5:8-11

Whether or not Jesus died on a literal hill, the metaphor is powerful. On the hill of our pride, our depravity, and our arrogant enmity with Him, Jesus sacrificed Himself. Of all of the “battles to win,” this would have been the one. The God who made and loved us would have been perfectly justified in “winning” against us. Instead, He chose to win against sin for us, dying on that hill to extend forgiveness and justification to His enemies.

The next time you find your temper flaring and your heels digging in, ask yourself if you look like your Savior. Ask yourself what the best demonstration of love would be in that moment. Sacrifice yourself on that hill.

Guilt into Gratitude

We’ve all been there, right? A friend, spouse, significant other, parent, sibling, or complete stranger sacrifices and serves for us. That twinge of guilt is painful. “They shouldn’t have had to do that for me. If I were more responsible, more observant, more disciplined, they wouldn’t have needed to put themselves out for me.” Maybe we haven’t all been there, and I walk this road alone, but I doubt it. When I feel that twinge, I often see two options available to me: 1) Let the guilt take over, or 2) Tell myself that I serve everyone so much, they really do owe me one. I am learning, though, that there is a third option, one that is infinitely better than either of the first two. That third option: gratitude.

Let’s face it, no matter how hard we try, we never seem to reach the level of self-sufficiency we would like. I would love to do the work of full-time ministry, full-time homemaker, and full-time scientist – all in one person, all in one day. When I can’t “do it all,” I feel like a failure. Just a few weeks ago, I had an epiphany. Well, maybe not truly an epiphany, but I realized something important: When another person serves you, it is an expression of love. Feel loved and be grateful instead of guilty. This applies to so many areas of my life:

My Marriage

In my last blog post, I wrote about my consistent feelings of failure. When my husband steps in to do something that I perceive as my job, I feel like I’ve let him down. My husband is leaving behind his job and everyone he knows to follow me to a different state later this year. That can be a source of incredible guilt for me. I don’t know what made me realize it, but I am slowly learning that my husband hurts when I hurt. This is especially true when his loving sacrifice is the thing that causes me pain. He is leaving everything behind to move with me – because he loves me just that much. He switches out the laundry without being asked – because he loves me just that much. He offers to help me with “my” household work – because he loves me just that much. When I react with guilt, I communicate to him that his love causes me pain. I don’t want to communicate that to him. Instead, I want to communicate to him that his love is precious to me. I am now choosing to say, “Thank you so much!” instead of “I feel badly that you have to do that.” Married ladies – let’s purpose to say “Thank you” to our husbands when they serve us. No more guilt – just gratitude.

My Friendships

I have received help from friends more times than I can count. Monetary help, moving help, cleaning help, emotional help. I’ve had friends make meals for my freezer during finals week. I’ve had friends run to the grocery store for me. I’ve had friends sneak into my house and clean while I was at work. I’ve dumped my emotional burden on a friend’s shoulders. When our friends lift us up like that – they are showing love. I am learning to say, “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you,” instead of “You shouldn’t have! I feel bad!”

My Walk with Christ

 

“For while we were still helpless, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly. For one will hardly die for a righteous man; though perhaps for the good man someone would dare even to die. But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us. Much more then, having now been justified by His blood, we shall be saved from the wrath of God through Him. For if while we were enemies we were reconciled to God through the death of His Son, much more, having been reconciled, we shall be saved by His life. And not only this, but we also exult in God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have now received the reconciliation.” – Romans 5:6-11

Christ’s sacrifice is the ultimate demonstration of love. Christ died for us when we didn’t want Him to. Christ died for us while we were enemies. Christ suffered alienation from God Himself for me (Matthew 27:46).

It is right that we should feel sorrow for our sins – yes, that we should feel guilty for those things that we’ve done wrong. The Apostle Paul says in 2 Corinthians 7:9-10:

“I now rejoice, not that you were made sorrowful, but that you were made sorrowful to the point of repentance; for you were made sorrowful according to the will of God, so that you might not suffer loss in anything through us. For the sorrow that is according to the will of God produces a repentance without regret, leading to salvation, but the sorrow of the world produces death.”

There is a guilt that drives us into the arms of our Savior, that causes us to cry out for forgiveness, and that fortifies our determination to change. That is the purpose of the kind of sorrow Paul refers to. Once the sorrow has served its purpose, it should transform itself into gratitude. Crippling guilt has no place in the forgiven heart. The New Testament is full of expressions of joy and gratitude. Nearly every "introduction" to Paul’s letters is an overflow of thanksgiving for the work of Christ. The heart who has found Christ turns from pain to joy.

“I find then the principle that evil is present in me, the one who wants to do good. For I joyfully concur with the law of God [o]in the inner man, but I see a different law in the members of my body, waging war against the law of my mind and making me a prisoner of the law of sin which is in my members. Wretched man that I am! Who will set me free from the body of this death? Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!” – Romans 7:21-25a

“Therefore there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. For the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus has set you free from the law of sin and of death.” – Romans 8:1-2

I am determined not to allow guilt to waste the sacrifices of my husband, my friends, or my Savior. With the help of Christ in me, I will turn my guilt into gratitude every day. Will you join me in a transformed way of thinking? Will you join me in throwing off the chains of guilt and walking into the wide space of gratitude?

So, How's Married Life?

“How is married life?” It’s the question every new couple hears everywhere they go. We hear it the most from people who have been married a good while. Some people are asking a genuinely concerned question – they want to support you through the struggle of new marriage. Others use it as filler, just like “Hey, how are you?” Still others give the impression that they want to hear the exuberant gush of, “Oh! Married life is AMAZING! I’ve never been this fulfilled, happy, or well-adjusted!” Sometimes, I want to respond with, “I’d be happy to tell you about my marriage, but you go first! How is your marriage these days?”

Honestly, I’m happy to talk about marriage with people who really want to talk about it. I think it would be good for us to be more open with each other. This post seems a little silly to write, because I’m confident that anyone who is married will completely understand the things that I’m going to say. Here are some of the responses that I am tempted to give when people ask how married life is…

1) I’m tired all of the time.

We’ve been married for almost two months, and I’m still not sleeping as deeply as I did when I didn’t share a bed. I’m sleeping; even sleeping all night – but I’m just more aware of my surroundings while I’m sleeping than I was before we got married. The weeks of adjusting to sleeping in the same bed with another human are hard.

 

2) Where did all of this laundry come from???

Yes, I’m well aware that there will be even more laundry after we decide to have children. Yes, I know that I will look back at right now and wonder why I was overwhelmed by the laundry. My reality is, though, that the laundry is overwhelming to me right now. I’ll adjust, and then I’ll adjust again when we have kids. But right now, I’m not adjusted yet, so the laundry is hard.

 

3) I always feel like I’m failing to meet the expectations I have for myself.

This is true even outside of marriage, but marriage provides a whole new arena for Satan to tempt me with feelings of failure. I’m writing a doctoral dissertation right now, and each day I fail to write as much as I planned to write that day. My desk is messier than I want to have it. I can’t find time to do the experiments my mentor wants me to keep doing. Each day, I leave work having failed to meet my expectations for the day. I pack up my feelings of inadequacy and walk right in the door with them. My husband asks, “Did you have a productive day?” A wave of guilt washes over me, and I snap back, “No. I just couldn’t get it all done. And now I have to make dinner and do a million things around here tonight.” Another wave of guilt, and “I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have snapped. I’m just overwhelmed,” finds its way out of my mouth. “I understand. How can I help?” he asks. You see, my husband is a very good man and he loves me a lot. His offer makes me feel even guiltier, because I want to serve him by filling all of those traditionally female roles. I enjoy making breakfast for him each morning. It gives me real pleasure to see his dresser full of laundry that I washed and folded and put away. I want to be able to do everything. (I’m going to blog later about that offer of help making me feel a negative emotion, and what that communicates to him – I’m learning to be grateful instead of guilty).

Marriage is giving me a new area to learn that “good enough” is sometimes ok. When another person is involved, though, “good enough” feels like complete failure. Like everyone else in 21^st century America, I have a weird perception of what marriage is supposed to be. I tried to correct that before I was married, but I’m still correcting it now that I am married. Marriage doesn’t make you perfect overnight. In fact, marriage is this incredibly clear mirror in which you are enabled to see flaws in yourself that you never knew were there. Thankfully, I am married to a man who loves me flaws and all. That doesn’t stop me from being overwhelmed by the flaws I see in myself.

4) I had no idea that we would fight so much about sleep

My husband and I have opposite internal body clocks. I am done for by 10 PM, and he’s just getting started. We’ve gone to bed together since we got married, and I try to get up thirty minutes to an hour before he does (that happens probably 50% of the time – more fodder for the guilt flame to eat up…). I’m ready for bed at 10, and he’s ready to pop in a movie. We both feel like we’ve compromised on bedtimes, but our compromises are still discrepant.

5) I’m still learning how to pray for my marriage.

Prayer has always been a struggle for me. For some reason, it’s one of the hardest Christian habits for me to maintain. With a fledgling marriage on board, learning to pray feels more urgent.

6) The struggle is what makes marriage good.

I have heard a metaphor in which lives are likened to brick walls. When a marriage begins, each wall is taken apart, brick by brick. Then, some of the bricks are discarded. Most of them, however, are used to build a single wall out of the pieces that made up two. There are lots of “best parts” to early marriage, but one of my very favorites is the connection I feel after a difficult conversation. When we’ve put in the hard work to take down more pieces of our individual walls and find out where they fit together in our new one, it feels good. It feels like we’re going to make it. It feels like, just maybe, one of these days, we’ll have our wall put together.

 

So, here’s the real answer to “How’s married life?” It’s hard. It’s wonderful. It’s a struggle. It’s fulfilling. It’s eye-opening. I need you to pray for me.