Suffering

Sunday’s sermon at RH was TOUGH to listen to, so much so that it’s now Wednesday and still on my mind.

Topic?

Suffering.

It was tough to listen to because it is true that God has a hand in and rationale for our suffering. As Robert explicated from Philippians, the purpose of our suffering is the advancement of the Gospel in us and through us.

When I turn the reasonable, theological switch on in my mind, it makes complete sense. In my heart however, with my senses at full alert, it hurts to think about, so I usually just stop.  Paralyzed from running to the bathroom for fear people might see the tears streaming down my cheeks, resorting to “not thinking about it” was not a valid option Sunday morning.

So I thought about it and continue to think about it.  A lot.

If you somehow want to listen to the sermon after reading that, visit redemptionhill.com.

Listening turned me into a sobby mess awash with self pity and confusion.  Sitting between a friend and my husband, I was quietly wiping my eyes while vividly remembering my last experience with suffering.  The recollections ran in my mind like a movie.  It made for a weepy afternoon, to say the least.

I have thought of myself as very open to suffering, discomfort, and hardship for the sake of the Gospel. When I left for Brussels in 2009, nothing seemed more right and desirable. Bring it on.

But my experience and reactions were different from what I had pictured and what my supporters had pictured for me. Given the language barriers and difficulty establishing meaningful relationships with people, I could not see how the Gospel was advancing in anyone I knew there. Further, the small ways I could imagine it might be frankly didn’t seem worth the loneliness, confinement, and stagnancy I felt.

I spent some sweet alone time clinging to God, but when it came to the Gospel advancing in those around me, I turned it into a formula.  If the amount of suffering I experienced was not providing adequate results, something bitter and hard hearted rose up in me, taking the form of clenched fists and a large knot in my throat.

Robert’s sermon brought back these memories like a torrential downpour on Sunday. The formula still seemed so right and the remaining unanswered questions seemed so unjust.  Why did I experience so much suffering with such puny results?  Why did the circumstances seem so insurmountable?  Why couldn’t I have been privy to a glimpse of the Gospel advancing in someone else’s heart and mind?  Why?

Isn't this the question we all land on at some point or another?

We have been taught that suffering occurs so that God would be made much of and the Gospel advanced, but when we can’t see that happening through our blurry, tear-filled eyes, we are stuck with only one remaining option.

When we get to the end of the rope, we are left with faith: a choice to believe in what we cannot see.

We choose either to believe in a Sovereign God we cannot see or to negate His existence. It follows then, that we choose either to believe in the results of His work not always visible to human eye or to distrust His power to create, move, and change.
When we’re swimming in the dark waters of suffering, the buoy we can grab hold of is faith.

I, for one, am grabbing on tightly and believing that God produces fruit in the most barren of wastelands and boggiest of swamps.