What Do We Do When Suffering Comes?

by Robert Jacobs

In 1999 the blockbuster hit The Matrix took theaters by storm. During its run at the box office, the movie grossed almost $500 million and its special effects became the stuff of legendary parody. However, the movie’s success came not from its special effects, but from its thought-provoking plot. According to the movie, the world in which we inhabit is nothing more than a computer simulation used to keep our minds alive while robots harvest the chemical energy created by our bodies. While a few saw this plot as merely a bad depiction of Cartesian philosophy, the movie—as a whole—engaged audiences.

Toward the end of the movie, one of the antagonists—agent Smith—tells the main character Neo that the robots had originally created a different world for us, a world without pain or suffering. However, the program was eventually scrapped because it was repeatedly rejected by the human mind. Agent Smith smugly claims, “as a species, human beings define their reality through misery and suffering.”

While I do not believe we are living in a large computer simulation, nor do I think that our existence is defined by suffering, Smith’s comment correctly indicates a connection between life and suffering. To live means that you will experience grief, heartache, and pain. There is no way to avoid it. Because of its unavoidable nature, we must prepare ourselves to correctly respond to suffering rather than trying to vainly attempt to run from it.

In the first chapter of Job, the suffering hero of the book loses all of his wealth and children in the span of a few moments. Rather than letting his grief drive him to sin, Job instead lets it motivate him to worship. The author puts it this way:

Then Job arose and tore his robe and shaved his head, and he fell to the ground and worshiped. [Job] said,

“Naked I came from my mother’s womb,

And naked I shall return there.

The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away.

Blessed be the name of the Lord.” (Job 1:20-21)

The words of Job are written as a quatrain (four lines of poetry) and, not incidentally, this passage depicts a four-part reaction to suffering.

1.   Acknowledgment of Pain: The narrator tells us that after Job heard the bad news, he got up, ripped his clothes, shaved his head, and fell to the ground. Often times we attempt to suppress the anguish we feel because we believe our expression of grief to be evidence of a lack of faith. In other words, we put on a smile and tell everyone that our life is wonderful because “that’s what a Christian does.” However, Job acknowledges and expresses the pain of his suffering, an action that enables him to move to the next step in suffering well.

2.   Acknowledgment of Who We Are: Job then utters one of the most famous lines in the whole book: “Naked I came from my mother’s womb, / And naked I shall return there.” This is a healthy acknowledgment of Job’s reality. Like us, Job is mortal. Just as he was powerless to control his birth, so also is he powerless to control his death. We all enter into this world not under our own power and we will likewise exit.

3.   Acknowledgment of Who God Is: Next, Job acknowledges God in all his power, stating, “The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away.” Job calls God Eloah, a word that means he who is strong or he who should be respected or feared. Eloah (God) is the strongest and the most powerful, the opposite of our mortal status. While we have little to no control over the biggest events in our life (birth and death), he is undoubtedly in control.

4.   Worship and Trust: To conclude the quatrain, Job blesses God: “Blessed be the name of the Lord.” In blessing the name of the Lord, Job praises and thanks Him for His very nature and essence. The name of the Lord is worthy of this praise not only because of what Job has already acknowledged but also because God is unwaveringly faithful and true. To paraphrase Paul, God remains true because He cannot deny His nature or name (2 Timothy 2:13). 

Through his reaction to searing loss, Job offers us a healthy model for dealing with suffering. But are we willing to follow such an example? Are we willing to acknowledge our suffering honestly while not allowing ourselves to stay stuck there? Are we willing to admit our own mortality and lack of control? Are we willing to acknowledge God as all-powerful and in control, even when it feels like He has turned His back to us? And are we willing to bless the name of the Lord in the midst of our suffering, praising him for who he is even when our situation does not get better?

Suffering is unavoidable. Pain will come. But the name of the Lord is still worthy of praise. As you invariably encounter suffering in the coming weeks and months, may you reflect upon the example of Job, letting your pain drive you to worship.

Forsaking or Flirting with Our Past

by Robert Jacobs

Everyman’s memory is his private literature. -- Aldous Huxley

While I have read Huxley before, this particular quotation resurfaced in my life about mid-December. As I poured over the words on the screen, I halfway expected them to whisper some kind of deeper meaning to me. Yet nothing came.

Not to be discouraged, I refilled my coffee cup and began to truly interrogate the sentence. Clearly, the words were pregnant with meaning, but I could not for the life of me give birth to any deeper significance beyond what they simply said. After what felt like an eternity, I did want any self-respecting 21st-century person would do: I took a screenshot of the quote and moved on with my day.

I came back to the quote last week and I had a moment of realization. The way that Huxley talks about memory is how many who struggle with SSA treat their past. We may say that we reject what we did in the past, yet we hold onto those memories like treasured books, reading over them with a sense of longing.

While understanding our past is important, scripture repeatedly teaches us to move forward instead of turning to our former way of life. Paul tells the believers in Philippi, “forgetting what lies behind and reaching forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 3:13-14). Refusing to turn back to his past, Paul presses on to be more and more like Christ.

The Psalmist of Psalm 45 also depicts the need for the believer to press forward rather than turning back. Setting up his poem as a nuptial psalm, the poet speaks directly to the bride, instructing her, “Forget your people and your father’s house, / Then the King will desire your beauty” (Psalm 45:10). While this may sound harsh to us (after all, who tells a bride to forget her father), the psalmist uses the act of marriage as a symbol. The bride is to forget the life she was born into and instead focus on her new life as the wife of the king.

Just like Paul and the Bride of Psalm 45, we are to keep our eyes fixed on our King. Though Paul’s former way of life may have been more familiar to him, he completely forsook it, “[counting] everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus” (Philippians 3: 8). Similarly, the Bride forsakes her place of birth, just as we forsake the sin nature that we were born into.  However, rather than forsaking our past, we often flirt with it, turning to it as a private library of events to relive through fantasy. 

Have you forsaken your past or do you hold on to those memories, reliving them through fantasy when your walk with Christ gets hard? This may sound like a silly question, but when we long for our former sin and spiritual bondage, we offer an entry point for Satan to work in our hearts. Beloved of Christ, “do not give the devil a foothold” (Ephesians 4:27). Do not long for your former way of life. But instead cast all your affections on Christ and he will reciprocate with a love incomparable to any offered by this world.

Knowing Versus Doing

by Robert Jacobs

Knowing is not enough, we must apply. Willing is not enough, we must do. – Bruce Lee

As an actor, film director, and martial artist Bruce Lee notes, there is a big gap between knowing something and doing something. We can know that eating healthy will make us feel better. We can know that getting enough rest can help us feel less irritable. We can know that exercising three times a weak can help us manage stress. But until we act on this knowledge, we will never reap the benefit.

Aside from our physical health, the difficulty of transitioning from knowledge to action is also a spiritual matter. There have been countless times in my life where I have known what I should do, yet I flagrantly and purposely chosen that which God detests. This, besides being foolish, is a very dangerous course of action, one which can have serious consequences.

Scripture offers us numerous examples of those who refuse to move from knowledge to action, and the danger of such a choice. During His conversation with Nicodemus, Jesus expresses frustration with the Pharisee after he doesn’t understand the concept of salvation through messiah. Ultimately Jesus exclaims, “Are you the teacher of Israel and do not understand these things?” (John 3:10) As a Pharisee, Nicodemus would have had access to the scriptures and the training to interpret them. Despite his wealth of knowledge, he refused to move from knowing to doing, to let his understanding of scripture impact his reaction to Christ.

Similarly, Jesus tells a parable in which a dead man begs to go back to his living family and warn them about the consequences of their actions. To this man’s request, Abraham replies from his place in heaven, “they have Moses and the Prophets; let them hear them,” to which the man replies, “but if someone goes to them from the dead, they will repent!” To end the parable, Jesus says that Abraham replies, “If they do not listen to Moses and the Prophets, they will not be persuaded even if someone rises from the dead” (Luke 29-31). 

In both these situations, a lack of knowledge was not the problem, but rather application of that knowledge. So, what is the ultimate consequence of refusing to move from knowledge to action?

When Jesus was taken before the Sanhedrin—experts in the law and the prophets—they inquire of Him, “If You are the Messiah, tell us” (Luke 67a). Given their knowledge of the scriptures, Jesus’ messianic status should not have been difficult for them to discern. After all, he had fulfilled countless prophecies and His life dovetailed perfectly with the narrative of justice, mercy, and redemption exemplified in Israel’s history.  However, these men refused to put their knowledge into action. To their query, Jesus replies, “If I tell you, you will not believe; and if I ask a question, you will not answer” (Luke 22:67b-68).

While Jesus’ answer seems to be simply a frank response to a non-question (see LHM devotional from July 6, 2017), it is, in reality, a terrifyingly frightening reply. The first half is straight-forward enough; this group had not believed him in the past, so why would they start now. However, His refusal to ask them a question reveals something very important about their hearts.

Jesus asks many questions of many people throughout the gospels. And yet none of them served an “interrogative” purpose. In simpler terms, Jesus did not need to know the reply to his questions because he already knew the answers before he asked. Jesus, instead, asks questions to open up a space for growth, for the respondent to see the content of his heart in relation to the holiness of God. Yet Jesus opens no such space for the members of the Sanhedrin. He refuses to even ask a question. Why?

While there are many possible answers, I believe that the reason Jesus refused to ask was because they already knew the truth and refused to put that knowledge into action. They knew the law and prophets well enough to recognize Jesus as messiah, yet they refused to acknowledge Him as such.

But before we run off condemning the members of the Sanhedrin, we need to take a look at our own hearts. Many people know and even profess with their mouth that Jesus is King of Kings and Lord of Lords, yet that knowledge has little to no impact on their lives. I often hear people tell me that they are waiting for God to speak to them, that they need divine direction so they can grow spiritually in their life. I cannot help but wonder, though, if they should be waiting to grow through new knowledge, or if they should be putting into practice what they already know.

This is a question we need to all ask ourselves. We must put our knowledge into action, to take that step forward. Only then will we be able to find the life and growth that we so desperately seek.

Cast Yourself upon the Rock

by Robert Jacobs

It feels like everything in our culture resists the idea of discomfort. Got an ache or pain? There’s a pill for that (or essential oil depending on your philosophical leaning). Marriage too hard? Just divorce your spouse. Parenting too difficult? Your kids can figure life out as it comes.

While the above statements may be a bit reductive and even hyperbolic, our resistance to discomfort indeed pervades our society. We avoid hard situations or run from them almost as our default reaction. Peter, however, informs believers that they will not escape hardship and suffering: “Dear friends, do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal that has come on you” (1 Peter 4:12).  To follow Christ is to experience a “fiery ordeal,” a participation “in the [suffering] of Christ” (1 Peter 4:13).

Christ himself indicates that those who interact with him will experience discomfort. While responding to several teachers of the law, Jesus quotes Psalm 118:22 (“The stone the builders rejected has become the cornerstone”) and then states, “Everyone who falls on that stone will be broken to pieces; anyone on whom it falls will be crushed” (Luke 20:18). Traditionally, and I believe correctly, this passage has been interpreted to mean that those who accept Christ as Lord are those who fall on the stone, and those who reject him are the ones upon whom the stone falls.

Now, I know what some of you are thinking. Am I saying that those who surrender their life to Christ will be “broken to pieces”? Yes, I am. Let me explain.

In Luke 20:18, Jesus uses two different words to describe the breaking that will happen for those who fall on the stone versus those upon whom the stone falls. For the latter group, the stone will fall upon them and “crush” (λικμάω), or pulverize into dust.[1] For the ones who instead fall upon the stone, they will be “broken to pieces” (συνθλάω), to break apart and press together.[2]

That second definition— to break apart and press together—can be a bit confusing at first glance. I think about it in terms of a potter working with clay. As the artisan begins the work, he breaks down the initial block of material, reconstructing it into something beautiful. This is exactly what Christ does with us. He molds and shapes us, like a potter, into something more beautiful than we were at the beginning, a “new creation,” in the words of Paul (2 Corinthians 5:17).

Aside from this one verse, the idea of creation/ growth through destruction can be seen throughout the gospels, most notably in the repeated use of the pruning metaphor. Fourth-century Church father Ambrose of Milan noted this connection. In his exposition of Luke 20:18, he notes, “When [the Church] is pruned, it is not diminished, but it increases… when the scars of the old shoot are cut away, the people of God likewise grow into the wood of the cross.”[3] Because of pruning and cutting, a vine is able to grow stronger than it could before, the destruction in fact imparting life. Likewise, when we cast ourselves upon the stone and are broken, that breaking is the first step in re-creation, a process which calls life out of death.

Are we so obsessed with our comfort that we are unwilling to cast ourselves upon the stone? Are we unwilling to experience pain and sacrifice despite the fact that we know such pain will yield great benefit?  Although it may sound frightening, be broken upon the rock of Christ so that you may be transformed by Him. As Peter indicated, following Christ is a painful and trying endeavor. Yet we must trust that such pain and discomfort is working out a greater good for us.

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[1] A Dictionary of Biblical Languages: Greek. Ed. James Swanson. s.v. λικμάω.

[2] A Greek English Lexicon. Liddell and Scott. s.v. συνθλάω.

[3] Luke. Ed. Just, A. A. Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 2005. pp. 306–307.