I expect storms in the Christian faith. It was through suffering that the Son of God won our redemption, and His closest friends soon followed Him through it. And so when faced with storms, when faced with suffering or doubt or frustration, I am quick to accept these things as normal. I sing with the hymnwriter:
Why should I complain, Of want or distress
Temptation or pain? He told me no less*
Suffering, in my mind, is to be expected. And mingled with any suffering, for me, is a doubting of God's presence. I doubt whether I know Him, I doubt whether I love Him. I doubt whether He is good. I am almost always dissatisfied with my experience of relationship with God, and suffering magnifies my dissatisfaction.
But I expect suffering, and having lived with myself for a decade or two now, I expect doubt as well. And so when storms come, I am not surprised. I do not quit. I just keep moving. I focus on the task at hand, on survival and my immediate responsibilities. To continually consider my perceived distance from the Lord brings pain, and confusion. To continually analyze whatever suffering I am experiencing breeds insecurity, and anxiety. So I withdraw, and reef in the sails of my thoughts and emotions**. I will recover them when it's over- they have caused too much pain before. I will focus on enduring.
But I expect suffering, and having lived with myself for a decade or two now, I expect doubt as well. And so when storms come, I am not surprised. I do not quit. I just keep moving. I focus on the task at hand, on survival and my immediate responsibilities. To continually consider my perceived distance from the Lord brings pain, and confusion. To continually analyze whatever suffering I am experiencing breeds insecurity, and anxiety. So I withdraw, and reef in the sails of my thoughts and emotions**. I will recover them when it's over- they have caused too much pain before. I will focus on enduring.
But then, sometimes the gale softens, and I look up to gain my bearings. Or it intensifies, and forces me to be alert. And when I look up, I find I am far from where I began. The sea seems foreign, alien, unpredictable. I have waited and withdrawn and held on for long days and long nights, confident that the storm is 'the normal Christian experience', and confident that to endure is to be faithful.
But eventually in my begrudging, hardened acceptance, either by the grace of rest or by the grace of challenge, I realize that it has been a very long time since I felt joy. It has been a long time since I felt love. It has been a very long time since I was broken in compassion for a friend or a neighbor. I have begun to forget how to pray.
And worst of all, I realize that it has been a very long time since I last glimpsed my Savior. I discover that I have long watched the water pass beneath me, but have long forgotten the horizon. And the thought awakens my heart with despair and hope beyond hope like a sweet memory of lost childhood. Suddenly I wonder where I am, and how I've arrived here.
But eventually in my begrudging, hardened acceptance, either by the grace of rest or by the grace of challenge, I realize that it has been a very long time since I felt joy. It has been a long time since I felt love. It has been a very long time since I was broken in compassion for a friend or a neighbor. I have begun to forget how to pray.
And worst of all, I realize that it has been a very long time since I last glimpsed my Savior. I discover that I have long watched the water pass beneath me, but have long forgotten the horizon. And the thought awakens my heart with despair and hope beyond hope like a sweet memory of lost childhood. Suddenly I wonder where I am, and how I've arrived here.
Hebrews 12 is a chapter on suffering. It bids us continue through it, as Christ bore suffering on our behalf. But it describes His journey differently than mine. For Christ too expects suffering. He is no stranger to it, nor does He shy away from it. Christ does not stop, but walks fully into pain and fear and despair. But Jesus does not lower His shoulder and drop His gaze. He does not lean into the wind and focus on His path, on survival and His immediate responsibilities. He is not defined by a begrudging acceptance of His suffering; He is defined by something altogether different.
The Lord of all endures the cross for the joy set before Him**. He has a prize from which His eyes never falter, and from which His face never turns. I am sure He would have suffered less had He turned away, had He reefed His sails of thought and emotion and focused instead on endurance. Yet He does not suffer for suffering's sake, nor endure for endurance's sake. He suffers for my sake. He endures for me. And so He bears the pain of my absence for the joy of knowing that I will one day be reunited with Him. For the joy of knowing that the very suffering He endures will bring me back to Him in love.
This is the glory of all glory, wonder of all wonders. I am the joy set before Him. We are the joy set before Him. And so I have come to realize that to endure is not the same as to be faithful- to be faithful is to look on my hope, my love, my joy. Endurance is the byproduct of worship, and of meditation on Jesus. He is the prize, the goal, the joy that we have been promised, and the joy that empowers us to suffer, doubt, and struggle well. It is by looking to Him that we truly endure. I ask for the grace to continue to learn how to do just that.
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* John Newton, Begone Unbelief, 1779
** To reef a sail: to reduce the amount of sail presented to the wind by partially lowering the sail and rolling up and securing the excess fabric now at the bottom edge. Reefing is used in heavy wind on larger boats to reduce the danger of capsizing.
** To reef a sail: to reduce the amount of sail presented to the wind by partially lowering the sail and rolling up and securing the excess fabric now at the bottom edge. Reefing is used in heavy wind on larger boats to reduce the danger of capsizing.
*** Hebrews 12.2
