JULIANNE ATKINSON |GUEST

A man with no home to call his own was discharged from the emergency department after a cardiac event. He was no longer in critical condition and had outstayed his financial capabilities at the hospital. The homeless mission couldn’t provide appropriate recovery care with no medical staff and was unable to responsibly care for him overnight. That Alaskan winter night, he passed away on a church’s steps waiting for the doors to open in the morning.

The despair of wondering how this could have happened spread like a contagion at the rescue mission. Sorrow and guilt mingled under the surface of every conversation. There were so many aspects to mourn and grieve.

Navigating Suffering in this World

If you’re in ministry laboring in the harvest, you are always close to deep suffering. You’ve seen financial reversals, cancer diagnosis, abuse victims, and mental illness. You may have watched those desperate for approval, with a desire to live in sin, lead them to leave the faith in a wake of destruction. You’ve likely known those with regretted sins that still plague them many years down the road. The enemy would have us isolated in our suffering, but Scripture does not allow that option. In 2 Corinthians 6 Paul describes the true Christian life leading through pandemonium and crucible to address a prosperity gospel being peddled as the gospel of Christ. Paul wrote from prison to contradict these lies. Suffering is not unusual. We need no facade as we walk through it. When it does hit, our culture tends to force us into the binary of either hope or lament. Where do you fall?

Is it hope? When we cling to our rose-colored glasses we end up as the ministry leader who approaches someone weeping over the recent loss of their spouse and tells them everything happens for a reason. We hurry people past lament and in doing so we might sound pious but the outworking of the exhortation is to harden your heart. When we tell ourselves lament is wrong, we miss out on a piece of humanity that Jesus Himself walked. It is only after we acknowledge our pain and brokenness that the sun starts to shine and hope can be sincere.

On the other hand, if we are trudging through the slough of despond, hypnotized by a tunnel of relentless despair, we fail to give glory to who God really is. He is truly good. He really is working all things together for the good of those who love Him. He gives help to all who believe Him and call on His name. He grieves with us in our sorrows and cares enough to send His Son that He might make whole every crack in shalom. We look to the incarnation, the cross, and the resurrection and we cannot be hopeless.

If we have neither hope nor lament, we devolve into a cool stoicism. We are afraid of pain. We are afraid of being touched by the tentacles of the Fall. We cannot be hurt by what we love because we cannot take the risk of loving anything. We can’t be disappointed because our expectations are so low to start with. We easily shake off criticisms because we are too proud to take it seriously and grow. Our hearts slowly compact and dehydrate, losing tenderness, warmth, and ultimately life.

Holding Both Hope and Lament

A true biblical position on suffering is not binary; it upholds both hope and lament. Paul begins 2 Corinthians 6 by pointing to the hope we have in that, “Behold, now is the favorable time; behold, now is the day of salvation.” He acknowledges the suffering we experience by sharing his own and how he held on to hope: “by great endurance, in afflictions, hardships, calamities, beatings, imprisonments, riots, labors, sleepless nights, hunger…  through honor and dishonor, through slander and praise.” He ends the chapter reminding them they are God’s people, yoked in covenant with Him, even in the midst of suffering.

The real triumph is in the ash heap: in sacrifice, weakness, and sorrow. The work of Christ allows us to be hidden in joy as we shine like the sun, penetrating the calamities around us, dwelling in His Word and His ways. No hollow triumphal speech can withstand the mounting pressure. A prosperity gospel eventually shatters. It’s only in the righteousness of Christ that we find a solid refuge. Since the Fall of Adam, we have been in a fiery furnace that sanctifies our hearts as God continues His work in us until the day of Christ Jesus. We are purified, cleansed in the blood of the lamb, and resurrected from death to life. We are not surprised when fiery trials come because we know they are a symptom of the cracks and wounds of our broken and fallen world. We cling to the hope of knowing they will eventually be purged forever.

In ministry, we are always near to those who are suffering, including our own. Though we walk through the crucible, we are yoked with God. And in communion with Him, we can hold both hope and lament. This is what faithful suffering looks like in the Christian life. As we live this out in our own lives, we can walk beside others in their suffering as well, bringing light to their darkness.

Photo by Nick Owuor (astro.nic.portraits) on Unsplash