afflictions

Dec

2021

Living in hope (though life is difficult)

We wait for the Lord — hopefully, patiently, responsibly

Message for 3rd Sunday of Advent
by David Sellnow

Readings for the day: Zephaniah 3:14-20, Philippians 4:4-7, Luke 3:7-18

Stephanie grew up under the weight of demanding, overbearing parents. Their way was always the right way, and their children were going to toe the line and become obedient, upstanding, model citizens. Stephanie’s older sister fit the model perfectly. At the strict religious school their parents enrolled them in, Stephanie’s sister got all A’s and was considered the impeccable child. Stephanie lived in her sister’s shadow, got mostly C’s, and was seen as far less than ideal. Later in life, Stephanie gave up on church, because the sternness of the church in which she was raised made her feel that who she was and how she was always was wrong. Her parents were mortified when she stopped going to church, and they distanced themselves more and more from her. Stephanie lived her life, but she lived with a sense of shame, felt like an outcast from her family, and was haunted by a lingering sense of judgment looming over her.

Derrick had labored diligently year after year. He always had a job, sometimes a couple of jobs at a time. He would do whatever he could to keep shoes on his kids’ feet and food on the table. He didn’t give a lot of attention to his own needs, because he was too busy taking care of the needs of others. If he could do that, he was happy. Then one day, the manufacturing plant where Derrick worked shut down. He found himself out of work for the first time in his life. The town where he lived with his family was shrinking. Derrick was in his mid-50s. Finding a new job was no easy task. The bills began to pile up while Derrick kept applying for any and every position (but not getting hired). He told employers in the bigger city 40 miles away that he could commute. They looked at him skeptically when he got as far as getting an interview … and that’s as far as he ever got, it seemed. Derrick began to feel worthless to anyone and a failure to his family. When he started feeling fatigued and worn down physically, he figured it was all part of how generally low he was feeling. But the physical symptoms got worse and worse. He wouldn’t go to the doctor because he no longer had insurance. He eventually did go to the emergency room–when his wife, who had struggled by his side during the difficult months, found him collapsed on the floor and had to call an ambulance. Derrick’s life had gone from stability to disaster in a short span of time. He needed help. He needed health. He needed to find hope again somehow.

Those are just a couple of stories of shame, of judgment, of disability, of disaster. What is your story? What is your shame? What makes you feel weak and lame and hopeless and helpless? What are the judgments against you that make you feel like an outcast? What difficulties and disasters have you encountered? I’m not asking you to give those testimonials here in comments/replies to this blog post. I anticipate, though, that each of you has had (or now has or will have) tales you could tell of troubles and worries and woes. What do you do in the midst of your hurts and hardships and upheavals? Where do you turn?

Listen to the voice of a prophet calling out to you, telling you where to turn. Inspired by the Lord, Zephaniah said:

The Lord has taken away the judgments against you; he has turned away your enemies. … You shall fear disaster no more. … Do not let your hands grow weak. The Lord, your God, is in your midst. … He will rejoice over you with gladness, he will renew you in his love. “I will remove disaster from you, so that you will not bear reproach for it. I will deal with all your oppressors. … I will save the lame and gather the outcast,and I will change their shame into praise. … I will bring you home, at the time when I gather you; for I will make you renowned and praised among all the peoples of the earth, when I restore your fortunes before your eyes,” says the Lord (Zephaniah 3:14-20 selected verses).

You may be unfamiliar with the context of the times in which Zephaniah was writing. His ministry was, after all, over 26 centuries ago, around 630 BC (Christianity.com, Bible.org). Zephaniah’s ministry likely was very early in the reign of King Josiah. Josiah came to the throne as just a boy, and later in his career sought to institute religious reforms in the nation of Judah, because the people had lost track of the law of God (cf. 2 Kings 22, 23). But those reform attempts hadn’t happened yet. Zephaniah was speaking to a nation that had been living under God’s blessing for several hundred years and was growing distant in their hearts from God. They were worshiping other things, following other priorities, with individuals seeking their own advantage and ignoring their neighbor’s needs. Sound familiar? Sound a little like our own lives in our own times? Back in those Old Testament times, Josiah’s reforms were short-lived. A couple decades after Zephaniah, the prophet Jeremiah would be speaking out again, even more dramatically. When Zephaniah called for repentance and a return to God, regular, everyday people in Judah lived under the sway of the powerful and immoral in their own nation—and they were caught up in plenty of apostasy themselves. One commentator described the cultural context as a time “of great darkness … of violence and pain,” adding: “God never brings destruction to a place or a people that haven’t already destroyed themselves” (April Motl on Crosswalk.com). As Zephaniah (and later Jeremiah) foretold, there next would come a time when the regular, everyday people of God would live under the sway of other powerful nations and people, their fates held in the hands of first the Bablylonians and then the Medes and the Persians.

At the same time as Zephaniah prophesied impending judgment from God, however, he also gave the people a message of hope. When God judges or destroys, he does so “for the purpose of protecting or rebuilding” (April Motl on Crosswalk.com). The hope held out by Zephaniah would find some fulfillment when Judah was restored from captivity under Babylon and Persia. Hope would be fulfilled still more when the Messiah would come, when Jesus was born and brought new hope to this world. Hope will be fulfilled ultimately when Jesus comes again at the end of time, vindicating the faith of those who have continued to trust in him through all the pains and shames and sins and disasters of this life.

We are called to hope as the people in Zephaniah’s day were called to hope. That same call to hope was issued by the apostle Paul in New Testament times. When Paul wrote his letter of encouragement to the church in Philippi, he was being held imprisoned in Rome, and the Philippian church members were facing an array of troubles and persecutions. They had judgments against them. They had enemies. They were reproached. People in their community opposed and oppressed them. But, at the beginning of his letter, Paul told them, “[God] has graciously granted you the privilege not only of believing in Christ, but of suffering for him as well—since you are having the same struggle that you saw I had and now hear that I still have” (Philippians 1:29,30). Many of our churches and church members today are facing struggles and challenges of their own. You may be feeling insecurity about where things are at right now, and much uncertainty about where things are headed in the future. But listen to the voice of Christ’s apostle calling out to you, telling you where to turn. Paul urges you, as he did the Philippians:

Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus (Philippians 4:4-7).

We don’t know what tomorrow will bring. But we do know what forever holds in store for us, through our hope in Christ. And so as we wait for Christ—for Christmas in this season and for Christ’s return to us at the end of days—we strive to live with hope in our hearts. We encourage one another to be hopeful, even when the circumstances in which we find ourselves look bleak. We wait for the Lord hopefully, hanging onto his promises as the gospel truth.

And we wait patiently … or at least try to be patient. We are, by nature, impatient people. We tend to want what we want and we want it now. If the package we ordered doesn’t arrive in a couple of days, we get irritated. If the trip to the store takes up too much time with too long of lines, we get irritated. If something we want for ourselves, for our house, for our farm or business, or for our church is not available to us right now or is out of reach of our budget or unrealistic in our present situation, we get irritated. We are impatient.

Life as it is, in the here and now, often doesn’t align with our ambitions or with the comfort and stability we want. Life is often painful and hard. Things don’t go our way. Things get in our way. Sickness interrupts health. Lack of resources limits our options. Other people don’t think the way we think they should think, or do what we want them to do. We turn from hopeful and happy to being frustrated and ornery. We may take out our frustrations against others, even those closest to us. Within our families and within our churches, each of us starts seeking our own interests rather than maintaining concern for one another and for the well-being of all. So we become less ethical, more self-centered in our own attitudes and behaviors.

Our impatience and frustrations lead us to become ungrateful, uncooperative, unyielding–all of which, of course, are the opposite of God’s call to us. We are called to “lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely and … run with perseverance the race that is set before us” (Hebrews 12:1). Only by keeping our eyes fixed on Jesus as the author and perfecter of our faith (Hebrews 12:2) can we stay on a path of rejoicing always, displaying gentleness to everyone, not worrying about things but maintaining thankfulness. It feels so impossible for us to live in such an attitude, but we are assured: “The peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard [our] hearts and … minds in Christ Jesus (Philippians 4:7).

So we strive to live hopefully and to live patiently–hoping in Christ and his promises, patient with each other as we face life’s challenges, and leaning on each other as brothers and sisters. Living such a life together as God’s people calls us to live honestly, ethically, responsibly with one another.

Listen to the call of another of God’s prophets, John the Baptist. When the crowds asked John, “What then should we do?” (Luke 3:10) …

In reply he said to them, “Whoever has two coats must share with anyone who has none; and whoever has food must do likewise.” [When] tax collectors came to be baptized, and they asked him, “Teacher, what should we do?” [John] said to them, “Collect no more than the amount prescribed for you.” Soldiers also asked him, “And we, what should we do?” He said to them, “Do not extort money from anyone by threats or false accusation, and be satisfied with your wages” (Luke 3:11-14).

You get John’s point. Be ethical. Be responsible. Be thinking of others, not just of yourselves. “Do to others as you would have them do to you,” as Jesus said (Luke 6:31). Treat everyone with respect and consideration and caring as you interact with one another. That is our calling in our communities, with every neighbor in our world. That is equally and especially our calling also within our churches, as we plan and work and do ministry together.

Many small and medium-size churches today are facing significant challenges as they seek to carry out ministry. A national survey of churches conducted just prior to COVID-19 lockdowns in 2020 found that “half of the country’s estimated 350,000 religious congregations had 65 or fewer people in attendance on any given weekend … a drop of more than half from a median attendance level of 137 people in 2000” (Religious News Service, October 14, 2021). The pandemic has reduced worship attendance even further, standing now at about three-fourths of pre-pandemic levels as of August of this year (Baptist Standard, November 4, 2021).

Maybe the way you’re feeling about your own life or your congregational life these days is something like the feelings of Stephanie or Derrick (whom I described at the start of this message). Feeling like you’re the outcast, the down-and-out little sister, not as good as big churches somewhere else that seem to be flourishing. Feeling like you have labored and toiled and worked hard for many years, and now are up against challenges that have you searching desperately for resources and answers that are nowhere to be seen. Again, we don’t know what tomorrow will bring. We can’t cast our eyes into the near (or far) future here on earth and know exactly what plans the Lord is working out for us. But we do have his promise “that all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose” (Romans 8:28). And we do know what forever holds in store for us, through our hope in Christ. And so as we wait for Christ—in this Christmas season and anticipating his return to us at the end of days—we will strive to live in dignity and love with one another. We will set our minds on thinking about things that are true and honorable and pure and pleasing (cf. Philippians 4:8), rejoicing in the Lord always (Philippians 4:4). And we will set our hands about whatever tasks we can take on–to advance our relationships with one another, our care for others in our communities, and our commitment to honoring Christ in everything we say and do.

Life on this earth is not easy. It was not easy in Zephaniah’s day, nor in the days of John the Baptist and the apostle Paul. It’s never easy. As Paul and his missionary companions said to the members of churches they had established, “We must go through many hardships to enter the kingdom of God” (Acts 14:22 NIV). But we have God’s promise that he doesn’t abandon us. So we will not abandon him in our hearts, but keep trusting and hoping and persevering. We will not abandon him in our actions, but keep loving and helping and befriending. This is the life to which we are called by the prophets and apostles. This is our calling in Christ. “And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 4:7). Amen.

Scripture quotations, except where indicated otherwise are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989 National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.

Scripture quotation marked (NIV) taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. The “NIV” and “New International Version” are trademarks registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by Biblica, Inc.™

Jun

2021

A suffering woman and a dead girl

Jesus is our Hope when Problems are Unsolvable

[Readings for the 5th Sunday after Pentecost: Lamentations 3:22-33, Psalm 30, 2 Corinthians 8:7-15, Mark 5:21-43]

Chances are, a number of you currently are experiencing or recently have experienced a loss, a hardship, some source of pain in your life. Just in terms of those who’ve lost a loved one, statistics say there are people reading this blog post dealing with that form of grief. “About 2½ million people die in the United States annually, each leaving an average of five grieving people behind” (The Recovery Village: Grief by the Numbers). In 2020, that number of deaths in the US was estimated at over 3½ million by the CDC’s National Vital Statistics System–the death toll expanded greatly due to COVID. An Associated Press poll conducted in March of this year found that 20% of people in the United States had lost a friend or close relative to COVID. “That means a potential bereaved population of about 65 million.” A psychiatrist at Columbia University warns that because of isolation due to the pandemic, a significant percentage of the bereaved could experience prolonged grief disorder, a condition of persistent grief that lasts longer and aches more deeply than the typical grieving process. Some studies have shown more than triple the typical rate of prolonged grief disorder have been occurring over this past year. (See “COVID Has Put the World at Risk of Prolonged Grief Disorder,” by Katherine Harmon Courage, May 19, 2021, in Scientific American.)

Those are some general truths, some national and international statistics. More than likely, some of you reading this are grieving over a loss, some are struggling with persistent pain, all know community members whose lives are hurting.

“Encounter” by Daniel Cariola, Magdala Chapel – https://www.magdala.org/

The Gospel account for this Sunday (Mark 5:21-43), from the days of Jesus’ ministry in Galilee, shows powerful examples of persons dealing with grief and trauma … and their dependence on Jesus as their only hope. First there is the case of Jairus’ daughter, a young girl who should not become deathly ill, but who was deathly ill. Then, even as Jesus was on his way to Jairus’ home, the girl died. That did not stop Jesus from his desire or ability to help. We’ll say more about that momentarily. Meanwhile, Jesus was the only answer for a woman whose problem just would not go away, and she was at the end of her rope. She had been suffering for twelve years with “an issue of blood,” as the King James Version put it. Our translation says “hemorrhaging.” Modern scholars, assessing what may have afflicted her, deduce it was menorrhagia — “abnormally heavy and long menstruation that causes enough cramping and blood loss … that it makes normal daily activities impossible” (Nigerian Biomedical Science Journal, August 29, 2017). We feel anguish for that woman, experiencing such a condition for twelve years. Now think also of the social stigma that it placed on her in her culture. Jewish cultural norms, following the laws of Moses, stipulated that anyone with a bodily discharge (bleeding or secretion) was considered “unclean” and was to stay socially distanced till after the bleeding or discharge stopped. It was a religious rule but also something of a public health rule for the Jewish people back before anyone knew much about bloodborne pathogens protocols. So, on top of a chronic, frightening health problem, this poor woman was supposed to remain in something like COVID-19 lockdown when the community around her was not in lockdown. Think of the isolation and abandonment and frustration she must have felt. She seems to have been a woman of some means, and had spent every penny she had going to various doctors, trying to find a cure for her problem. But none of them could help her. Her condition only got worse. Coming to see Jesus was an act of desperation, her last hope. She’d heard about Jesus. She’d heard he could do miracles. So she violated the social distancing policies that prohibited her from going out into a crowded space. She made her way through the throngs of people following Jesus, hoping just to get close enough, thinking, “If I but touch his clothes, I will be made well” (Mark 5:28).

Indeed, the woman was made well from the moment she came in contact with Jesus. But Jesus did not want her to remain in hiding (or to hide from him). He stopped the crowd. He took note of the woman, who was afraid and confessed what she had done–which actually was a confession of faith. Jesus commended her and promised his ongoing presence with her. “Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease,” Jesus said (Mark 5:34). Think a bit about the context too. Jesus was on his way to the home of a high-ranking person, Jairus, who was a leader of the local synagogue. And Jairus had a significant need for Jesus’ attention; his daughter was deathly ill. But Jesus paused to pay attention to the woman who just wanted a quick, incognito encounter and nothing more. She was like a person who comes to a church hoping against hope for something, sitting in the back row, not wanting to be noticed, but the Lord wants her to be noticed and wants people to care about her. No matter how insignificant we feel we are, no matter how ostracized or shoved aside by society, no matter how helpless we think our situation is, Jesus wants us to know we are welcome in his presence, that we are worthy of care and attention.

Gabriel von Max, “The Raising of Jairus Daughter” (1878) – Wikimedia Commons

And Jesus will care about us even when our situation is more dire than twelve years of incessant bleeding. For example, when a twelve-year old girl is dying–and even when she dies–Jesus does not turn away from helping. To everybody else in the situation with Jairus’ daughter, her death was the end of the story. People came from the family’s house to say Jesus need not be bothered anymore, because the girl was dead. When Jesus came to the house anyway and told the mourners the girl was only sleeping and he would wake her, they all laughed at him. But we see the ultimate power of Jesus and the reason he had come to be with us on this earth. Death is the ultimate problem that plagues us as human beings. The sicknesses we have point to our mortality, to the eventuality that we all die. The death of a child points out the cold reality of death in a particularly harsh way. But the shocking finality of death is the very reason Jesus became incarnate as a human being, to reverse that curse. As Scripture says, Jesus came down to our level “so that by the grace of God he might taste death for everyone.” Since we are beings of flesh and blood, he “shared the same things, so that through death he might destroy the one who has the power of death, that is, the devil, and free those who all their lives were held in slavery by the fear of death” (Hebrews 2:9,14,15). Jesus’ actions healing the suffering woman and raising the dead girl are evidence of the healing and salvation he came to bring to all of us.

Maybe the problems you experience in your life aren’t exactly like the cases we looked at today, a woman hemorrhaging blood for twelve years, a family mourning the death of a child. Their experiences are examples within the range of so much human suffering that occurs. So many people experience deep hurts of so many kinds. In my years in the church, I’ve known …

dear souls who bore the scars of childhood sexual abuse for years and years in their adult lives …
dear souls who struggled with addiction …
dear souls who lost their jobs and struggled to maintain self-respect …
dear souls who experienced excruciating pain from terminal diseases …
dear souls who lost loved ones in senseless ways — in a car accident that occured on the way home from attending a funeral, or in a plane crash that occurred while attempting a stunt for a military air show.

In the work I’m doing now in human services, I encounter persons …

who need skilled nursing care and hospice care …
who need mental health hospitalization …
who have all manner of disabilities and need ongoing care and supports …
who are challenged by poverty and have little or no resources ….

So, while I don’t know exactly what you’re going through in your lives right now, chances are, there are losses, hardships, and no shortage of sources of pain. Maybe you feel like your soul has been bleeding for years and you don’t know how to make it stop. Where do you turn when the hurt in your life is constant, when the aches of your heart never really go away? Maybe you’ve tried everything–self-help books, practicing self-care, seeking professional help, any kind of help from anywhere and everywhere. And some things help some, but nothing is a complete cure. Only the hope we have for resurrection in Jesus can keep us going through the pains and losses and devastations that are so much a part of life on this earth. Jesus is our hope when our problems are otherwise unsolvable. Like the woman pressing through the crowd for even just a touch of the hem of his garment, we reach out to Jesus as our only eternal source of hope.

And how does that work–to reach out to be touched by Jesus when Jesus isn’t physically walking through the streets of your town? Certainly one way is in coming to church, where you gather to hear Jesus’ words and receive his touch through the sacraments. There’s another way, too, that I’d like to say a little something about before concluding this message. I’d like you to think about today’s Epistle lesson also (2 Corinthians 8:7-15), which maybe seemed to go in a different direction than the other readings of the day. Paul wrote to the Christians at Corinth: “As you excel in everything—in faith, in speech, in knowledge, in utmost eagerness, and in your love for us—so we want you to excel also in this generous undertaking” (2 Corinthians 8:7). The generous undertaking going on at that time was a special gathering of financial support for Christians elsewhere, particularly in the regions of Judea and Syria, who were experiencing food shortages and famine conditions. Actually, the original statement in Paul’s letter simply says, “We want you to excel also in this grace” — the Greek word charis (from which we get our English word “charity”). It’s somewhat limiting that in English we use the word “charity” (charis) mostly in terms of financial gifts. Scripture uses the same word not just for gifts of financial support but for the ultimate grace, God’s gift of his Son Jesus, the One and Only, to be our rescuer. Jesus now calls us to be gifts of grace to each other–with financial contributions, yes, but more than financial contributions. We become embodiments of Jesus to one another in our times of need.

At a church I was associated with in Texas some years ago, the congregation was in a bit of a financial crisis. A series of cottage meetings were planned, gathering members together in small groups at host members’ homes, to talk about how to address the financial crisis. At the first of those meetings, before getting to the stewardship agenda for the evening, there was an icebreaker activity planned, just to get people talking. Each person could respond to a prompt on the icebreaker card, which had prompts such as, “The most embarrassing moment in my life was ___________” … “One of my favorite vacations was _____” … “Something I’m praying about right now is ______,” and others. The first person at that first meeting started the conversation circle, choosing, “Something I’m praying about right now” and saying, “I’m praying for my daughter, who was just diagnosed with cancer.” There followed many minutes of fellow members showing concern for the woman, for her daughter, for her daughter’s husband and children, and actually engaging in prayer right there as a prayer circle. The next person in the circle then also chose to share something heavy on her heart, something she was praying about, and the members listened to her hurt and ministered to her as well. For over two hours that evening, the members shared their needs, consoled one another, prayed for one another. They never did get to the planned agenda about the church’s financial situation, and that was okay. They did what was important. The other cottage meetings that occurred in the days and weeks after that first one all followed the same pattern. The gathered members all focused on the prompt about what was heavy on their hearts, what they were praying about, and they acted as missionaries of gospel to one another, encouraging each other. Oh, and by the way, the church’s financial situation turned around too–because for the first time in a long time the members of the congregation began to realize the value of their ministry to one another and to others and, like Paul said, they began to excel also in that grace and in the generous undertaking of gifts to support needed ministry.

In the midst of famine and hunger, in the midst of grief and abandonment, in the midst of sickness and death, in the midst of all this world’s problems and pains, Jesus is our hope. And as brothers and sisters to one another in Jesus, we become miracles of grace and hope to one another as well.

Brothers and sisters, may Christ be with you as you endure whatever hurts or sorrows are happening in your life today and whatever troubles you may face in days to come. And may you be with one another in Christ, supporting each other, praying for one another, reminding each other of the gospel hope we share. We know our Redeemer lives, and that he will be with us when we are on our deathbeds, and that at the end, he will stand upon our graves, and that even after our skin has been destroyed, we will yet see God, we will be raised by Christ to be with Christ forever. How our hearts yearn within us! (Cf. Job 19:25-27.) Amen.

—

Scripture quotations are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989 National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.

Jan

2020

Faith cries out

Originally posted on the Electric Gospel on November 10, 2019.

Faith cries out

by David Sellnow

What happens inside your soul when crisis or disaster strikes your life? How do you feel? What do you say? Let me share with you words of pain from someone whose faith was put to the test by devastating losses. When life hurts, have you ever screamed thoughts like this?

“Why didn’t I die at birth, my first breath out of the womb my last? … I could be resting in peace right now, asleep forever, feeling no pain.”
“I hate this life! Who needs any more of this?”
“God, how does this fit into what you once called ‘good’? … Can’t you let up, and let me smile just once …before I’m nailed into my coffin, sealed in the ground, and banished for good to the land of the dead?”
“Please, God … address me directly so I can answer you, or let me speak and then you answer me. How many sins have been charged against me? Show me the list—how bad is it? Why do you stay hidden and silent? Why treat me like I’m your enemy?”
“My spirit is broken, my days used up. … I can hardly see from crying so much. … My life’s about over. All my plans are smashed, all my hopes are snuffed out.”
“Why do the wicked have it so good, live to a ripe old age and get rich? … Their homes are peaceful and free from fear; they never experience God’s disciplining rod.”
“God has no right to treat me like this—it isn’t fair! If I knew where on earth to find him, I’d go straight to him. [But wherever I go, he’s not there.]”
“People are dying right and left, groaning in torment. The wretched cry out for help, and God does nothing, acts like nothing’s wrong!”
“I shout for help, God, and get nothing, no answer! I stand to face you in protest, God, and you give me a blank stare! … What did I do to deserve this? … Haven’t I wept for those who live a hard life, been heartsick over the lot of the poor? But where did it get me? I expected good but evil showed up. I looked for light but darkness fell. My stomach’s in a constant churning, never settles down. Each day confronts me with more suffering. I walk under a black cloud. The sun is gone.”

Have you ever had thoughts like that in the midst of trouble? If you have, does that mean you aren’t a good Christian? If you scream at God when you feel like God has disappeared from your world, have you failed the test of faith? Should you be more like Job, famous for his faith when afflicted with suffering? He lost his family (his adult children were killed). He lost his wealth. He lost his health. And yet he spoke with rock-solid conviction. Job’s famous words were written down and inscribed in a book forever: “I know that my Redeemer lives, and that at the last he will stand upon the earth; and after my skin has been thus destroyed, then in my flesh I shall see God, whom I shall see on my side, and my eyes shall behold, and not another” (Job 19:25-27 NRSV).

Perhaps you are more like Job than you realize. All of the words I quoted to you at first — words of complaint, of accusation against God, of desperation and wanting to be dead — those all were words of Job. (Bible quotations were from The Message, copyright © 1993, 2002, 2018 by Eugene H. Peterson. Referenced verses – Job 3:11,13; 7:16; 10:3,20-22; 13:20-24; 17:1,7,11; 21:7,9; 23:2-3,8-9; 24:11-12; 30:20-28.)

Job’s words of resurrection confidence are surrounded in Scripture by many words of grief and doubt and heartache. People speak of “the patience of Job” — and yes, the patience of a faithful heart remained alive in Job. But that patience of faith existed in the midst of the frayed nerves and tortured soul of a life under horrible strain. Job’s wife is often criticized for telling her husband to “curse God and die” (Job 2:9) when everything fell apart for them. But I’m sympathetic toward Job’s wife. She was a mother who lost her children and could not be comforted. Her heart was overwhelmed with pain. And Job, too, struggled with that pain. Job wrestled with God in his heart, and went back and forth in his thoughts. The same person who expressed all the anger and hurt I shared with you a few moments ago also said:

“Even if God killed me, I’d keep on hoping.” (Job 13:15 The Message)
“All through these difficult days I keep hoping, waiting for the final change—for resurrection!” (Job 14:14 The Message)
“Where then does wisdom come from? And where is the place of understanding? … God understands the way to it, and he knows its place. … Truly, the fear of the Lord, that is wisdom; and to depart from evil is understanding.” (Job 28:20,23,28 NRSV)

Isn’t that the way that faith is in our lives? We go back and forth in our thoughts, between hurt and hope. We cry out to the Lord, “I believe; help my unbelief!” (Mark 9:24) If you read the Psalms, you’ll hear words of joy and praise as well as words of anguish and questioning. If you listen to Jesus himself, hanging on the cross, you’ll hear him scream, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Mark 15:34) as well as, “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit” (Luke 23:46 NRSV). You’ve likely seen this same thing in the lives of Christians you have known, or in your own hearts as God’s people fighting the good fight of faith. I’ve sat with a woman outside the intensive care unit, where her husband was going through organ failure after diabetes had done decades worth of damage to his body. I’ve sat with the family of an Air Force colonel who died in a tragic plane crash — not in battle, but while assigned to supervise younger pilots practicing for an air show. Things happen that seem senseless, merciless, unfair, intolerable. We cry out in distress and anguish, and at the same time call out to God in hope. When God seems to have abandoned us, that’s when we cling most urgently to his promise that he never will leave us, never will forsake us (Deuteronomy 31:6, Hebrews 13:5).

Martin Luther spoke often about how God reveals himself to us in hidden ways, in the midst of pain and suffering and the cross. We tend to want God to show himself by big and bold and obvious blessings happening in our lives. But more often, God’s deepest work on our hearts happens through difficult things we don’t want to endure. In his Heidelberg theses (which he composed when under pressure to defend his teachings), Martin Luther said this:

“Now it is not sufficient for anyone and does no good to recognize God in his glory and majesty, unless he recognizes him in the humility and shame of the cross. Thus God destroys the wisdom of the wise, as Isaiah 45:15 says, ‘Truly, you are a God who hides himself.’”

God’s greatest work in this world was accomplished when God seemed to be absent from the scene, when Jesus was hanging on a cross, dying in shame, with people shouting obscenities at him. That’s not where people thought they’d find God. Yet that was how God had chosen to show himself and to save the world, through Jesus’ suffering. And in our own lives too, we are drawn closer to God, made more dependent on God, when facing life’s agonies and, ultimately, death. So when the difficult days come, yes, we will cry, we will scream, we will hurt. But we also will trust God is working in his own mysterious ways to draw us closer to himself and to draw us on in the direction of heaven. Because ultimately, “faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen” (Hebrews 11:1 NRSV).

The fact that we have faith doesn’t make us immune to hurt. Sometimes we forget that. I’ve known some Christians who’ve undergone a great loss or catastrophe, and they paste on a smile because they think a Christian should never be sad. They don’t allow themselves to grieve because they think grieving would mean they weren’t expressing hope. They may shed a tear at the funeral, but the day after they expect themselves to be putting all the sadness behind them. That’s an artificial understanding of our Christian hope. We don’t pretend we aren’t hurting. We acknowledge the full reality of pain and suffering, of sin and death, of the grave and loss. And at the same time, we cling to hope in the power of the resurrection. Think of Jesus, who broke down in tears when his friend Lazarus died – even while he knew he was going to raise Lazarus back out of his grave. Jesus felt death’s pain even when he had the power to overturn death. We need not gloss over the ugliness and bitterness of awful things that happen to us in this world. In the midst of that ugliness, we still seek God’s face (Psalm 105:4) and believe in his mercy.

When you’re facing loss, hardship, heartache, tragedy, it’s normal for you to cry out in pain. The great patriarch Job cried out again and again, begging God for answers. God remained silent for a time, but he did hear Job and he did finally answer him. And God hears you when you cry too. God is helping you even when you have a hard time feeling his support. He reminds you of his promises. His Spirit helps you hang on and have hope. Maybe you don’t have the patience of Job. Then again, even Job didn’t have the patience of Job! But all of us, as God’s people, will join with Job in confessing our faith. We say:

“I know that my Redeemer lives, and that at the last he will stand upon the earth; and after my skin has been thus destroyed, then in my flesh I shall see God, whom I shall see on my side, and my eyes shall behold, and not another” (Job 19:25-27 NRSV).

That is our confidence, our cry of faith, even when this life is so often so full of so much pain. We cry with hurt, but we also cry with hope. How our hearts yearn within us!

Jan

2020

Still Standing

Originally published on the Electric Gospel on March 31, 2019.

Still standing

by David Sellnow

***************

Don’t you know I’m still standing better than I ever did
Looking like a true survivor, feeling like a little kid
… I’m still standing – yeah yeah yeah

“I’m Still Standing” – Elton John / Bernie Taupin

Too Low for Zero (1983) – Rocket Record Company (UK) / Geffen Records (USA)

***************

It’s customary to begin a devotional thought with verses from the Bible. So I suppose starting with a Bernie Taupin lyric from an Elton John song is rather unconventional. But the chorus of that song has been running through my head a lot lately. The theme started a couple weeks ago. As I was exiting the post office, I held the door for an older gentleman, somewhat hobbled, who was on his way in. “Have a good day,” I said to him.

“I always have a good day – I’m still standing up!” he replied, with a big, broad smile.

Not many days later, a sermon I heard mentioned the same sentiment. “I’m up and I’m moving – I’m okay!” The pastor had heard that thought expressed by a person of faith during life’s hard times. It is the way that faith looks at life, constantly trusting a God whose everlasting arms are underneath us, holding us up (cf. Deuteronomy 33:27).

To be honest, though, thoughts of faith like that are unnatural for us. We tend to have in mind an ideal image of life, of what we want life to be. More accurately, we concoct an idol of how we expect life should be. We worship that idol; we yearn for that ideal. But even a non-biblical thinker such as Plato, the Greek philosopher, recognized the flaw in such thinking. There is no “ideal” in the earthly realm. Life in this world is imperfect, mortal, characterized by struggle. Plato envisioned that perfect things could exist only in a higher realm. He wasn’t wrong. Through the testimony of Scripture, we know that “the whole world lies in the power of the evil one” (1 John 5:19). But we also know “that the Son of God has come, and has given us an understanding, that we know him who is true, and we are in him who is true, in his Son Jesus Christ. This is the true God and eternal life” (1 John 5:20). And the true God calls upon us to keep ourselves from idols (1 John 5:21) – idols such as imagining that life on this earth should always be full of easiness for us.

The truth is that “through many afflictions we must enter into God’s Kingdom” (Acts 14:22).

The truth is that if we’re so much as standing up, it is because the Lord has given us the strength to be on our feet. It is he who brings us up out of the pit, out of the miry clay. He sets our feet on a rock and gives us a firm place to stand (cf. Psalm 40:2).

So our confession of faith will always be this: “Some trust in chariots, and some in horses, but we trust the name of Yahweh our God. They are bowed down and fallen, but we rise up, and stand upright” (Psalm 20:7-8).

If you’re still standing—or even if you’re flat on your back, but still partaking in life—rejoice and be glad in that day. As Eugene Peterson’s paraphrase of Ecclesiastes reminds us: “Relish life … each and every day of your precarious life. Each day is God’s gift. It’s all you get in exchange for the hard work of staying alive” (Ecclesiastes 9:7-9, The Message). Our God took away the sin of the world in a single day by giving his One and Only, Jesus Christ, into death for us. And then Christ stood up again after giving himself over to death. Christ’s victorious standing up again (resurrection) gives us reason to stay standing even in life’s darkest days … and gives us promise that even after we have been laid low, we will stand with our Lord again in eternity.

I’m still standing. Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Bible quotations from World English Bible (WEB) except where indicated.

Jan

2020

When winter seems unending

Originally published on the Electric Gospel on April 7, 2018.

Always winter … but always Christmas and always Easter

by David Sellnow

Where I live, it seems like winter will never end. This week a record low temperature was set — in single digits. Waking up yesterday morning, the wind chill felt several degrees below zero. Tomorrow a snowstorm is predicted. And it’s April.There’s a line in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, by C.S. Lewis, that comes to mind: “It is winter in Narnia,” said Mr. Tumnus, “and has been for ever so long … always winter, but never Christmas.” Life in the real world can seem very much like that so much of the time. Another way of describing life’s long, cold, dreariness was expressed by Moses many centuries ago: “Our days may come to seventy years, or eighty, if our strength endures; yet the best of them are but trouble and sorrow” (Psalm 90:10).

Yet that message of sadness and pain is not the only word we have from God about our lives in this world. In reality, while our lives may feel like an endless winter, it is always Christmas for us, and always Easter. The meaning of Christmas was that God came into this world to share our pain, to take all our troubles onto himself. It was prophesied (Isaiah 7:14), “The Lord himself will give you a sign: The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, and will call him Immanuel” [which means, “God with us”]. Christ entered into our existence and “took up our pain and bore our suffering. … The punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed” (Isaiah 53:4,5). Christ faced all the worst that this world has to offer and died for us. But “it was impossible for death to keep its hold on him” (Acts 2:24). Every Easter, we celebrate his resurrection from the grave and the life eternal we have through him. And resurrection hope is not just something that prompts us to put on springtime clothing and go to church on Easter Sunday. God’s mercy “has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead” (1 Peter 1:3) — a hope that enables us to get up and face each day in the here and now, as well as having assurance of being with God in the hereafter.

It may indeed always be winter in the way our lives feel on this earth. But in Christ, it is always Christmas, for he is beside us as our Brother, born into humanity with us. And in Christ, it is always Easter, filled with hope and new life. Because he lives, we also will live (John 14:19).

Jan

2020

Forsaken … but not forsaken

Originally published on The Electric Gospel on April 27, 2018.

Forsaken … but not forsaken

by David Sellnow

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from helping me, and from the words of my groaning?” (Psalm 22:1).

David, who became king of Israel, wrote those words at some point in his life. We don’t know when David wrote Psalm 22, only that he sent it to the chief musician in Israel when he was king. We also know that there were plenty of times in David’s life when he might have said, “Trouble is near” and “there is no one to help” (Psalm 22:11).

Sometimes David’s troubles were through no fault of his own, such as when King Saul kept pursuing him, trying to kill him. David had dared to challenge an enemy no one else in Israel would challenge–Goliath of Gath, a gigantic warrior of the Philistines. Saul grew jealous of David and aimed to eliminate him. At one point, David wound up going into Philistine territory, to Gath itself, to get away from Saul. While there, the only way David could keep from being imprisoned or killed by the king of Gath was to feign insanity. David scribbled on the doors of the gate and let saliva drip down his beard. The king, Achish, said to his servants, “You see the man is insane. Why then have you brought him to me?” (1 Samuel 21:13,14).

Sometimes David’s troubles were the result of his own arrogance and sin, such as when he seduced the wife of one of his military men while that man was away at battle. David then saw to it that the man was killed, so that David could take Bathsheba (the wife) from him and make her his own. David’s soul was plagued and troubled until God’s prophet compelled him to confess his sin. (Cf. 2 Samuel 11-12.)

Other times David’s troubles were a combination of his own failures and the sins of others against him. His son Absalom mounted a conspiracy, trying to throw his father off the throne. David needed to wage a civil war against his own son. In the end, Absalom ended up dead and David struggled to bear such a tragedy. (Cf. 2 Samuel 15-19.)

In our lives too, there are times when we feel forsaken by God and alone in our despair and troubles. Sometimes it’s through no fault of our own; it’s just things that happen to us or acts by others done against us. Sometimes our aloneness and pain are caused by our own sins and shame, torturing our minds and hearts. Other times the anguish we face is a combination of our own failures and things done by others that hurt us further. We wonder where God is in all this. Our souls cry out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from helping me, and from the words of my groaning? My God, I cry in the daytime, but you don’t answer” (Psalm 22:1,2). We keep crying out day and night, but find no rest.

We recognize, though, that the anguished cries of David’s psalm belongs to someone else even more than the thoughts belonged to David or than they belong to us. “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” Those words were uttered by Jesus, the Christ, as he hung on the cross. Jesus took on himself all our sins, all our troubles, all our agony, all our shame, and experienced the abandonment of God his own Father. He did so to atone for all our woes and guilt and hurt. Some elements of Psalm 22 point beyond anything David likely experienced, looking prophetically ahead to the sort of death Jesus died when he took our place under all the burdens of sin. “They have pierced my hands and feet,” the psalmist said (v.16), anticipating the crucifixion that the Messiah would suffer.

No matter what our sufferings in life and no matter why they occur–by our own fault or the fault of other sinners or simply the result of living in a sin-stained world–we can know one thing for sure. Jesus suffered as much and more than anything we are suffering. And Jesus suffered as he did for us, to give us hope in the face of suffering. Our hope, ultimately, is in Jesus, whether or not the circumstances of our daily lives get any easier. Though the Lord may bring us down “into the dust of death” (Psalm 22:15), he remains always our God from the time of our birth onward. “All those who go down to the dust shall bow before him” (Psalm 22:29). We can’t keep our own souls alive, but God will. And we will continue to serve him and proclaim his righteousness (Psalm 22:29-31).

Jan

2020

Precious Lord, Take My Hand

Originally published on The Electric Gospel on March 30, 2017, from a chapel message delivered on a college campus.

Precious Lord, Take My Hand

by David Sellnow

Thomas Dorsey’s father was a preacher and a sharecropper. His mother was a church organist. Already from the time he was a boy, Thomas wanted a career in music. At age eleven, he left school to take a job in a local vaudeville theater in Atlanta, Georgia – where the family was living. From ages twelve to fourteen he was earning a living playing piano in bars and brothels and for house parties. By the time he was seventeen, he headed to Chicago to pursue his music further. After working for a time in a steel mill in Gary, Indiana, Dorsey studied music at the Chicago School of Composing and Arranging. He found success in the music business in Chicago as a composer and arranger and piano player. He was known as “The Whispering Piano Player” from playing after-hours parties where the music had to be kept quiet enough so as not to attract the attention of the police.

Dorsey was so frantically engaged in his musical life that at age 21, he suffered a nervous breakdown. He went back home to Atlanta to recuperate. His mother wanted him to stop playing the blues; he should “serve the Lord,” she said. He didn’t listen. He went back to Chicago. Coming to be known as “Georgia Tom,” he amassed even greater musical success as a sought-after band leader or accompanist for blues performers such as Ma Rainey, Tampa Red Whittaker, Scrapper Blackwell, Big Bill Broonzy, Frankie Jaxson, Blind Lemon Jefferson, Memphis Minnie, and Victoria Spivey.

In 1925, Dorsey married his sweetheart, Nettie Harper, who was Ma Rainey’s wardrobe manager. But Dorsey continued to struggle with depression and mental stress and suffered a second major breakdown in 1926. He was suicidal and unable to compose or perform music. Doctors didn’t seem to help. Taking time off didn’t fix things. His sister-in-law urged him to come to church, and he did. He even visited a faith-healer, who told him, “Brother Dorsey, there is no reason for you to be looking so poorly and feeling so badly. The Lord has too much work for you to let you die.” From then on, Dorsey began to do what his mother had always wanted – write and play music for the Lord. He saw connections between the blues and gospel music. He once said, “If a woman has lost a man, a man has lost a woman, his feeling reacts to the blues; he feels like expressing it. The same thing acts for a gospel song. Now you’re not singing the blues; you’re singing gospel, good news song, singing about the Creator. But it’s the same feeling, a grasping of the heart.”

But most churches didn’t want his music. From 1928-1931, as Dorsey tried to sell his gospel music to churches, he was rebuffed. The churches didn’t like how he infused sacred music with blues and jazz. His music didn’t align with the conservative culture preachers were trying to promote. Dorsey had to return to composing and playing the blues in order to make a living. But he kept working on his gospel-based music at the same time.

In August, 1932, Thomas Dorsey had gone to St. Louis where he was to be the featured soloist at a large church revival meeting. His wife was in the last month of pregnancy with their first child. While he was in St. Louis, he received a telegram. Nettie had gone into labor and had died in childbirth … and the baby died too. The man was overcome with grief. It took many days before he could to pull himself together at all. When he did, it was by playing piano. And at the piano, about a month later, in the midst of all that grief, he wrote the most famous song of his musical career: “Precious Lord, Take My Hand.” In the years to come, Dorsey continued writing songs for the church and influencing church music. Writer of around 800 songs in his career, he became known as the father of gospel music in America.

The circumstances of our lives don’t always go in the direction we envision. We have hopes. We have dreams. We have plans and ambitions. And then things don’t go as we plan. Life takes turns in directions we didn’t expect. Sometimes everything comes crashing down around us. Our lives collapse in on top of us. Problems pile up to where we can’t see past them. We find ourselves shaken, confused, wondering what happened, wondering where was God. We so often don’t see what God plans to do for us and with us as he shepherds us through the valley of the shadow of death or whatever turmoil he lets us go through. What we do know is that God intends always what is good for us, that in all things he is working for our good – for our eternal good, in line with his eternal purposes (cf. Romans 8:28). God never abandons those whom he has called as his children. Our precious Lord is always working to bring us home to himself, bring us back to his promises, to anchor us in the love and hope that are never in doubt – in the Messiah, in the gospel of Jesus Christ.

Thomas Dorsey wanted a career in popular music. The Lord chastened him severely, and turned him toward a deepness of faith and toward writing songs that convey the comfort of the gospel – songs that have greatly benefited Christ’s church.

There’s a similar sort of story in the Bible – the story of Joseph. When he was 17, in the fabulous dreamcoat that he’d received from his father, Joseph had fabulous dreams about his future. People would be bowing down to him. He was going to be somebody! It all sounded so amazing and exciting. Little did Joseph know then what his future actually would hold. His brothers abused and mistreated him. They dumped him in a pit and then sold him off like they would a cow or a donkey. He served as a slave. He was accused of a crime he didn’t commit. He languished away in prison. Ultimately, he did end up in a position of power and authority – but only after the Lord had worked hard on his heart and soul through deeply painful experiences in his life.

In the end, when Joseph’s brothers found themselves in a desperate position—coming to Egypt for food because Egypt was the only place that had food—Joseph tested them to see that God had been working on their hearts and souls too. They didn’t recognize him after all those years and in his Egyptian appearance. When Joseph revealed to them who he was, he made it clear he held no grudges against them. He saw how God had guided the path of all their lives up to that point, and trusted that God would be the hope of their people (and all people) for the future.

Today’s Bible reading is Genesis 50:15-21 – from the years in Egypt after Joseph had revealed himself to his brothers and the whole clan of Israel had moved down to Egypt.

When Joseph’s brothers saw that their father was dead, they said, “What if Joseph holds a grudge against us and pays us back for all the wrongs we did to him?” So they sent word to Joseph, saying, “Your father left these instructions before he died: ‘This is what you are to say to Joseph: I ask you to forgive your brothers the sins and the wrongs they committed in treating you so badly.’ Now please forgive the sins of the servants of the God of your father.” When their message came to him, Joseph wept.

His brothers then came and threw themselves down before him. “We are your slaves,” they said.

But Joseph said to them, “Don’t be afraid. Am I in the place of God? You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives. So then, don’t be afraid. I will provide for you and your children.” And he reassured them and spoke kindly to them.

Prayer:
Heavenly Father, teach us to trust you through the whole course of our lives – not only when things are going well or in ways we hoped or planned, but also when life is a struggle, when things go horribly wrong, when tragedies strike us. You hold us in your hand. You guide us by your Spirit through your Word. Keep us in your care, and help us to confess that whatever happens, you will be working in all things to bring about good for us as your children – with the ultimate good being that we join you in life eternal. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Dec

2019

When heaven seems silent

Originally published on The Electric Gospel on March 28, 2015.

We’re heading into Holy Week – an annual remembrance of Jesus’ darkest hours. At week’s beginning, he was hailed with cheers and acclaim by the people of Jerusalem. By week’s end they looked upon him with revulsion and demanded his death. During his unthinkable suffering, his thoughts were on us, the people for whom he was living his life, for whom he was dying in ignominy at our hands. In any suffering we face now, we look to our Lord as the one who has suffered for us, who has redeemed us, who gives us hope.

Writing to someone she knows is suffering, Jenni Mickelson points to Jesus and the hope we have in him — even when circumstances seem hopeless. We know that not only did he suffer for us; he reclaimed his life in victory and assures us of victory.

A letter to someone who is suffering

by Jenni Mickelson

*********************************

For the one who wants to let go…but must hold on: “We walk by faith, not by sight.”

(2 Corinthians 5:7)

—

“I believe in the sun even when it is not shining.
I believe in love even when I do not feel it.
I believe in God even when he is silent.”

– Etched on cellar wall during the Holocaust
—

Dear one, I feel your pain behind the smile, the hopeful words and “musts” and “dos.” You are longing for a present much better than the one you are in. It’s as if you are in a thick mud at the side of a road, struggling in panic like an injured deer, back legs broken, to flee her fear and her pain. You speak of a new day, a new heaven and a new earth, and you pray and you read and you thank. But in the next breath you are crying for another time, another place, another life.

Let me tell you this: Your life has been a prelude to this moment. This moment, when the cross feels too unbearable to carry, the strain too great for your feeble arms, the fear and the agony too overwhelming to endure one more step on the narrow road. God has led you here, to this moment, to follow the blood-stained footsteps of Jesus.

Rejection, torture, anguish – these defined the hours, the days, the years of our Lord here on earth. True God and true Man – and this was his destiny: to be forsaken by his children, to be gruesomely flogged and crucified like a criminal, to hang in the sight of unbelieving onlookers and a Father who put his only Son through the pain of hell – for us.

“Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?…
My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Matthew 27:46)

Sin did not waste its time in tormenting our Savior. But sin was not greater. Sin’s wrath did not define our dear Jesus. For, on that early Sunday morning, in the pale of a new dawn, he rose above the grave and received the glory of life. And it is this that he gives us, too, willingly.

When you fall under your cross, let the blood of our God renew you and give you strength. As you collapse under the load, let the power of Jesus’ love and mercy pick your feeble body back up. And when sin finally threatens to impale you with the nails of hell forever, point to the hill at the end of the road – the hill of victory, the hill of God’s Passion. You will live another day. This moment is God’s love letter to you: “Live. Do you see the light of my Son in you? ‘Your faith has made you well’” (Luke 17:19).

“I am still confident of this:
I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.
Wait for the Lord;
be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord” (Psalm 27:13-14).

Dec

2019

The One who suffered is with us in our sufferings

Originally published on the Electric Gospel on August 19, 2014.

I had a friend who was going through some challenges at a particular time. I sent my friend this little note at that time … and thought maybe it worth sharing more widely with others of you here.

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Faithful in Affliction

by David Sellnow

“I know, LORD, that your laws are righteous, and that in faithfulness you have afflicted me” (Psalm 119:75).

That word of prayer is hard for me to say, hard for you to say. When we are afflicted, when things get hard, our first instinct is to say, “God, you’re not fair. This is ridiculous! How could you possibly ask me to put up with this?”

But we keep praying, we keep leaning on God. Maybe people here on earth have treated us unfairly. Maybe situations here on earth will twist and contort us way out of our comfort zone. But the LORD our God is never unfair. And he doesn’t let us go through any ordeals or “valleys of the shadow of death” without going through it all with us, right by our side. Our good shepherd has his rod and staff in hand, to battle for us and pull us out of trouble, and we are comforted (cf. Psalm 23:4).

Lord, forgive us for thinking you are unfair in your dealings with us. We know that even in our afflictions, you remain faithful and true to us always. Your ways are righteous. In faithfulness you allow us to suffer, but you walk with us through every detail of the suffering — and no one knows suffering better than you do, Lord Jesus. You walked the road to your own execution, a cross crushing your shoulders, thorns piercing your skull, whip lashes oozing blood from your back.

You walked the path of affliction for us. Now, when we are afflicted, walk with us. We trust you.

We wait for the Lord — hopefully, patiently, responsibly

Jesus is our Hope when Problems are Unsolvable

Faith cries out

Still standing

Forsaken … but not forsaken

Precious Lord, Take My Hand

A letter to someone who is suffering

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