In The Burden of Hope, I pointed out that suffering can sometimes seem more intense for a Christian because, along with all its blessings, The Gospel also brings to him this little thing we call hope. With the coming of hope comes the "mockery of hope which does disappoint." (Bledsoe essay).
Suffering is one of several circumstances which makes the realization of hope so elusive, and it comes to us in all sorts of packages, some which are more easily understood and endured than others.
Persecution is one form of suffering that I have never experienced, which is probably why I'm able to envision it as easier to submit to...because it carries with it an obvious sense of purpose, right? The Kingdom of God is advanced and The Gospel goes forward in strength through persecution. Don't misunderstand. I'm not suggesting that this type of suffering isn't painful and even devastating, only that it seems like it would be easier to accept since its ultimate purpose is clearly noble.
Acts of God which bring about large-scale tragedies and over which neither I nor anyone else had any control - such as floods, earthquakes, fires, etc. - are also more readily submitted to because it is obvious that "God did this." The Scriptures make very clear, and it's not just a poetic way of speaking, that these events come directly from God's hand and are intended as judgements which offer the opportunity for repentance and will either destroy or refine us, depending on whether we submit or rebel. Once again, I have only observed this kind of suffering from a distance without experiencing it first hand yet.
I have both witnessed and experienced personal tragedies that were clearly from God's providential hand, but were less broad in scope and more personal than the kinds mentioned above...the loss of 3 children in the womb...the illness and death of my brother...the birth of an aunt with Down's, a nephew with cerebral palsy and a niece with 13q-. I've watched a mother in our church nurture 4 boys, 3 of whom have autism...a young couple lose their first child after 2 promising days of life...you get the idea. These are sorrows which the recipients were dealt apart from any precipitating action on their part.
Both the large-scale and the personal tragedies can cause deep and prolonged suffering - either external or internal - and they challenge our faith in the Lord by raising questions about the nature of God and His involvement in a broken world. We are forced to wrestle with the big questions of life and sometimes the answers we come up with are less-than-satisfactory, adding to our burden.
Two other types of suffering, which I personally have found hardest to endure, are those which come as a result of other's sins against me or my sins against others: the rape and murder of a young Christian girl...the abuse of a child by a parent...a husband who abandons his wife...divorce...adultery....betrayal of friendship...a mother's death by a drunken driver. Sometimes the circumstances are less dramatic than these examples and suffering can also result from "lesser" sins such as gossip, thoughtlessness, or pride. In addition to the normal sorrows and testing of our faith that accompany hardship, this kind of sin-induced, relational suffering involves issues of guilt, repentance, forgiveness, healing and restoration. The weight of this suffering is increased because it was imposed on us unjustly (as a result of someone else's sin), or because we feel how much we deserve it (as a result of our own sin). Whereas we normally confront God Himself with our suffering and "call him to account," here we look to our own or other's actions to understand and alleviate the burden, often with a disappointing result. This is where that "Burden of Hope" becomes poignantly significant for the Christian. Afterall, we, above all others, have reason to expect relational failures and sufferings to be healed. Is that not the very heart of The Gospel?
I know I promised to talk about the Christian's response to suffering, but in thinking that through, I was compelled to acknowledge how broadly the nature and source of suffering varies and the way that shapes our responses. Ultimately, I believe that there are proper biblical ways to respond to suffering, regardless of its nature or origin, and I will talk about those...eventually. Just not today.
5 comments:
I'm going to have to find a copy of Bledsoe's essay. I think about hope a lot -- and I'll admit that it is somewhat of a puzzle for me. On my more optimistic days, hope seems like one of my weapons, you know, something to help with this life and all of its troubles. Then there are the other days when considering hope and attempting to have it just seem to exacerbate the difficulties.
It's all part of the struggle, I guess.
Annie, I linked to the essay today...or at least I THINK I did. I never actually followed the link to make sure it worked. It's worth reading, but I think he takes his solution in sort of a weird direction. I think you'll see what I mean...or maybe I'm just off. But it is thought-provoking.
I've only recently become aware of the burdens that hope brings...whereas in the past I have seen it only in a positive light, I now see the way it complicates things. And yet, I wouldn't want to live apart from it either, you know?
I "hope" you don't mind my referencing you and your family, but yours is one of the most trying and unending circumstances of suffering that I'm aware of, and I thank God for you and pray for you regularly. When I think that caring for Riesa is troublesome or inconvenient, I think of your situation and suddenly mine pales in comparison. XO
If you read Bledsoe's essay, I'd be interested to hear what you think of it.
Lori,
Thanks for linking to the essay. I look forward to reading it. And, of course, I don't mind you referencing me and my boys. Thank you for praying, too, truly. :) Sometimes it is so frustrating, dealing with this lot that has befallen me -- mainly because I feel like I don't know what I'm doing and all the emotions and concerns that I have for the boys just sort of blow me over. But, then, most of the time, I know that I'm blessed with these particular boys and believe that I'll all work out, somehow.
I guess, regardless of all the details that trouble us on a day to day basis, hope always wins...you know?
Thanks for taking up this topic. Part of the burden of hope is the jarring conflict between what we know of God's character and intentions versus what we see happening in our lives. We love the Lord who hates death and sickness as much as we do, and we know He healed the sick and raised the dead when He was here, Turning no one away, having compassion on all, but now our prayers for deliverance go unanswered at times. We feel cheated. We struggle with the dissonance.
It's hard. But I've found that though I might feel disappointed by what seemed like false hopes raised by the accounts of Jesus' concern for the suffering, nevertheless what can we do? We have no one else to go to, and the One who raised the dead is still our only hope. I may agonize because my children died, but Jesus alone can raise them from the dead. That's where hope comes from. I guess hope is a burden precisely because it's unrealized in the present; but it's a burden we need in order to live.
Very well put, Alicia. I sort of expected you to posit some hard questions...or tell me I was crazy. Maybe you're just reserving that for private conversation...? ;-)
I'd be interested to have your input on the next post too. Too simplistic? Too...whatever? We'll talk when I return to STL.
Post a Comment