GospelDrivenLife

nothing new, at all

One of my favorite authors is Thomas Oden.  While we may disagree in some points of doctrine, Oden has been a loud voice for orthodoxy.  A radical liberal theologian, he was converted when a Jewish colleague told him he needed to master the greats of his own tradition.  The fruit was true faith and a turning from all that is novel.

In a number of Oden's books he tells us outright that he hopes he will write nothing original. That takes us all by surprise.  He sees truth as revealed by God, a given, to be passed on from generation to generation.  Novelty, in the world of doctrine, is a bad thing. 

All attempts at novelty are driven by pride (perhaps no one has thought of this before), unbelief in the power of God (if can just just rethink the Gospel, it will be appealing to modern people), and ignorance (after three years as Christian, I have found a new idea). 

I recently spent a weekend listening to expositions of Isaiah -- statements about received doctrine --the merciful holiness of God, the sovereign rule of God, the covenant love of God.  There was nothing original at all.  Yet in conversations afterwards, I discovered that it was the power of long held truth restated that shaped people's hearts, changed their interpretation of events, corrected their unbelief, assured them of grace, and drew them to worship.

I am grateful to be in a place where novelty in doctrine is not embraced, where people can feed on truth, and not seek the stimulus of novelty.  That all begins with the Gospel. 

compassion and suffering

Hebrews tells us that Jesus was made like us in every way.  He was fully and truly man.  He lived as a man in dependence on God for all things.  God did not protect him from the bumps and bruises of life.  He walked into the vale of tears and wept with those who wept.  His muscles ached and his eyes burned with weariness.  

He was without sin, but he was not without suffering.  God did not spare him the scraped knee of a toddler, the cut finger of a carpenter, or the broken heart of a friend in the face of death.  He had tear ducts and he used them.

Here is mystery: Hebrews tells us that our Lord learned obedience through the things that he suffered.  God perfected him through suffering. In his role as Mediator between God and man, he must experience the full range of human life and temptation in order to be both strong and sympathetic for those he saves.

For many years I have puzzled over this.  How can sufferings shape us?  Why did he need to suffer, not just the nails of the cross, but all the temptations and tests of human life?  What does suffering do to us when we yield to its deep work?

Recently, visiting with my daughter and her husband and their newborn, I noticed that there was a particular bond between my wife and my daughter.  It was bi-directional.  They had now both borne a child in their womb more than once, has experienced the throes of a newborn life in need, and had felt the temptation to fear when the child seemed threatened by weakness. That common suffering brought a bond of compassion and a sympathy of affection.  No, it brought a comradeship that I did not experience at all the same way.

Suffering shared unites our hearts and lives.

Suffering builds compassion and kills glibness.  I do not think Jesus was ever glib, but I am. I know theoretically that suffering hurts, but when it is only theoretical I offer cheap words of compassion to others who suffer. At least until I suffer as well. When I have suffered deeply I slow down in the presence of human agony and walk softly around those who endure.  I shut my mouth with its pat answers and slogans and wait upon God in silence with them. 

When I was young I knew suffering hurt, but I did not have time for those who suffered.  I had things to do.  I skirted by moments for patient pastoral care in my concern with getting things done.  While my life has not been exceptionally difficult, I have now known the challenges of 30 year of marriage, health concerns, raising three kids, and the loss of parents and friends.  I do not have to have the exact same suffering, but real and deep suffering has taught me not to be so quick to offer my words of sympathy and then move on.   

When I was young I thought attention to suffering was unspiritual. That is a strange heresy that is till lurking about.  How can we read the plainspoken laments of the psalmist wrestling for faith and think it is ungodly to admit pain?  How can we see our Lord with loud crying and tears shrinking back from the cross and think that confession and experience of deep agony is a mark of unbelief.

Suffering is a bridge for ministry. I had a friend in college who was unusually mature, possessed exceptional sympathy and an ability to enter the world of suffering in others.  Because he showed such compassion, he served many.  What made him so compassionate?  He had fled Cuba and his family from Cuba on a boat, and lived as a refugee for years.  He knew suffering, and could serve others in their suffering.

Suffering is served by sitting and listening.  A few years ago I faced an agony of soul that tore deeply into my life and faith.  Many many heard my summaries of what I faced and offered a brief word of sympathy.  One friend said, "We have heard you hint at this often.  Would you allow us to enter into what you experienced?  Would you allow us to spend an evening hearing about this?"  And they did -- three or four hours of my pouring out what we walked through.  They listened. They asked questions.  They groaned.  And when we had told all we could, they told us of the grace of God and his love and their love for us.  They told us God had done good work in us through this and they could see it. 

They sat and listened, and God used their listening to mend our hearts. 

Well, this is not about me. It is about my Lord. My dim grasp of how suffering shapes people helps me understand how he was perfected through suffering.  He was perfect in his response to the suffering he endured.  In him was no sin.  How wonderfully his heart of compassion for those he came to save must have been shaped by what he endured.  How perfectly he knows the temptation and the grace needed so we may endure.  And how gently he leads us, how patiently he bears with his children who are mere dust. Jesus heart is for us.  He wants that we pour out our hearts to him. He will not rush on to his next appointment, but will attend to us, care for us, and pour his oil into our broken hearts.