March 27, 2011 - Lent 3, Year A (RCL)
There are times
when you open the bible
and just want to close it straight back up.
And today is one of those times.
It’s the book of Romans again,
and more of Paul’s long discussion
about faith
and works
and salvation.
Today’s reading
is a wonderful celebration of the certainty of our salvation.
“Since we are justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have obtained access to this grace in which we stand; and we boast in our hope of sharing the glory of God.”
We are justified by faith.
We have peace with God.
We have access to grace.
We’ll share the glory of God.
Wow! What amazing promises,
what amazing security
we have in Jesus.
That’s the first sentence.
Then comes the second.
“And not only that, but we also boast in our sufferings, knowing that suffering
produces endurance, and endurance
produces character, and character
produces hope.”
And if you’re like me, your first response to that second sentence is,
“No. I don’t want suffering. I don’t need suffering. I don’t care what it produces. I’m not interested.”
And we close our bibles,
or at least turn to something more palatable, the gospels perhaps, or the psalms,
anything but this.
Because suffering
is not something that most of us what to think a whole lot about.
It’s something we’d rather avoid.
And if the only way to make sure of our hope of salvation is through suffering,
then I suspect most of us
might be happy to do without that hope.
We want a better life, not a harder one.
If suffering is part and parcel of being a Christian,
then we might think twice
about how much we really want
to follow Jesus.
Whenever I’ve read this passage,
I’ve kind of skipped over it.
The rhetoric is great,
but if it’s the answer to that classic question
“Why does God allow suffering?”
then I’m nor sure I want to hear it.
You see, I’ve heard people quote this verse
in response to that question.
God allows suffering
so that we might learn to endure, and develop character,
and in the end, come to hope in Jesus.
And if that’s true, I don’t think
that I want to know
that God.
Because if it’s true, then God seems to be
kind of sadistic.
After all, if God created the world, then God can choose
how it is
that we come to know Jesus.
It didn’t have to be
pain.
No, if suffering is the only way we can come to hope in Jesus, then
I’d rather do without.
And of course, God could protect us from suffering.
But the way to do that
would be to wrap us in cotton wool.
It’s like when I teach little kids to ski.
I had one yesterday.
Her parents
would pull her along the flat sections
so her legs didn’t get tired.
They’d hold her hand as she got off the ski lift.
They’d ski alongside her
to make sure she didn’t fall over.
And they’d be waiting at the bottom to catch her
if she didn’t stop.
That’s all very well for a two year old.
But this kid was big enough
to learn to ski on her own.
So we made her walk to the lift,
and learn to get on and off,
and make nice big turns as she went down the hill,
and stop herself at the bottom.
She fell off the lift twice,
and crashed a couple of times going down the hill,
and whined a fair bit,
but by the end of the lesson
she was using the lift, getting herself up when she fell over,
skiing happily and safely, and stopping whenever she wanted.
Did it hurt sometimes? Yes, probably.
Did she have more fun skiing? Absolutely.
We live in a world
where God doesn’t wrap us in cotton wool.
God lets us live, live freely.
We get to make choices.
And we have to live with the choices we make, for good or ill,
and the choices
that other people make.
And so
we suffer the consequences
when we build nuclear reactors on fault lines,
and homes in flood plains.
We breed resistant bacteria and viruses when we overuse antibiotics.
We make junk food cheap and good food expensive.
We bear the consequences
of the choices we make,
and choices made by generations before us.
Of course, that doesn’t deal with all suffering.
It doesn’t answer
why a child is born
with a rare disease,
or someone does before their time
or a house burns down after being hit by lightening.
Or thousands, millions, of other scenarios.
But it makes a beginning.
Why does suffering happen?
At least in part, because of free will.
And for the rest, I have to say
“I don’t know.”
Maybe that’s one of those things
that we won’t get to find out
until the end of time itself.
But let me be clear. Again, the apostle Paul is not saying,
suffering happens in order to produce endurance and character and hope.
And even though they are good outcomes, he is not saying
that suffering is good.
You see, what Paul knows, and what we know,
is that like it or not, suffering is a given.
It’s part of life on this planet.
And even though suffering is bad,
good things can come from it.
And that matters, it matters
when you’re right in the middle of it all.
It’s too late to stop it;
but this, at least, provides hope
that God will somehow redeem it, that God will somehow
bring good from it.
And what God can bring from suffering
is endurance, and character, and hope.
I thought of this verse yesterday
when I read a story in the New York Times
about the people living in Takada Junior High School Number 1 in Japan.
They were displaced by the earthquake and tsunami,
a thousand of them living on grass mats in a school gymnasium.
They’ve built simple walls of chairs draped with clothing to provide some privacy,
divided themselves into neighborhoods,
nominating one person
to represent each neighborhood
in discussions with officials.
A hairdresser has borrowed scissors from a colleague in another town, and offers haircuts;
two dentists have set up shop, alongside the medical center provided by authorities.
veterinarians have donated cages for pets;
local high school students wash clothes.
Yes, they argue, especially over who has how many blankets,
and complain about the ones who snore.
But they have created a haven of peace amid the chaos.
It wasn’t really a surprise to me: the loss of the second world war, and the accompanying suffering, did indeed produce endurance and character in Japanese culture.
But what we have, in addition to that, is hope.
Because hope
isn’t simply the result of suffering and endurance and character.
Hope comes
because in the midst of our suffering,
we know
that we have God
on our side.
That’s the difference
that faith
makes.
We are justified by faith.
We have peace with God.
We have access to God’s grace
We will share
in the glory
of God.
You see, we, as Christians, have a unique perspective.
This, here, is not all
that there is to life.
And that goes against our society, our culture.
We tend to focus
on the here and now.
Do this, and your life will be happy. Be like this
and it will be perfect.
So what do you think?
You often hear people who have gone on mission trips to places in the world
where life is difficult
and material things
few and far between,
that they are surprised.
Because the people there
are so full of joy.
We tend to think
that we can achieve a perfect life
here and now.
Somehow.
And if we don’t have it,
we must be doing something wrong.
But what they know
is that life will never be perfect
here and now.
But they have a hope, they have a hope,
a real hope,
that one day,
one day, in the day beyond death,
they will share in the glory of God.
You see, suffering
will always be a part of our lives;
that’s what it is
to live in a world of choice and freedom.
Perfection will never come
this side of death.
Even we, here in St James,
who for the most part
have been pretty much blessed with material things,
even we know this.
But as Christians we know
that there is more to life
than the here and now.
One day, one day, a time will come
when there is no more weeping or sorrow,
when we will feast and celebrate
with our God.
And meanwhile,
yes, there will be suffering.
But we trust
that it will not be wholly bad;
instead God will work in and through it to redeem it,
and make us people of endurance and character and hope.
© Raewynne J. Whiteley 2010