Timothy Stoner

The Inalianable Right to Suffer

Posted on 01. Dec, 2010 by Tim Stoner in Blog, Life

For 15 years I identified with one of the branches of the Protestant oak that believed in the real presence and the on-going ministry of the Holy Spirit. Its distinctive was a moderate Reformed theology combined with a healthy commitment to practicing the gifts of the Spirit–most notably that of healing and prophesy. It was an outgrowth from a much larger and vibrant limb that labeled itself Charismatic.

Like most new movements it was prompted by a reaction against perceived weaknesses in other limbs. What it offered was a corrective to a functional disregard of the Spirit’s work on the one hand, and an inordinate elevation of the gift of tongues on the other. The titles of the books on my bookshelf from that period illustrate where the emphasis lay: Power Healing, Power Evangelism, Christianity with Power, and Surprised by the Power of the Holy Spirit. The focus was on the Spirit’s ability to empower believers with authority to do the works of Jesus.

While it did not discount the reality of pain and sorrow, practically speaking, especially during conference settings when prophetic “words” would be given, it seemed that everyone’s future was gloriously bright. All of us seemed to be just days away from stepping into a destiny of stunning significance. With the spotlight fixed on the believer’s authority and inevitable spiritual triumph, there was little attention given to the unsettling reality of protracted suffering and aching defeat. Failure, quite simply, was not an option, at least not for the long-term.

On occasion those whose prayers were not “answered”, who continued to struggle under the burden of chronic sickness or defeat, who did not become an international ministerial success story, failed to marry the longed-for mate, lost their jobs, businesses, children or spouse, also lost their faith. In a context of irrepressible triumph the existence of suffering inevitably causes you to blame somebody, and the culprit most readily at hand is yourself. Over time the blame eventually shifts to the God who failed to deliver as promised. Only rarely did the disappointment prompt a re-evaluation of the underlying theology.

But let’s be honest. We all want to hear that we are destined to win the lottery. All of us yearn to be powerful, effective, significant and successful. (Being respected and well known—and well compensated doesn’t hurt either.) The assurance that God wants me to be free from serious suffering is delicious. It goes down easy. It is intoxicating for people raised under the national mythology of inevitable progress and the Constitutional right to happiness.

Many of us born in the United States grew up convinced that by virtue of our citizenship we were entitled to be happy, which was understood as a guarantee of higher and higher wages, and if not the complete elimination of serious suffering, at least its significant diminution. So, it was not hard for a large segment of American evangelicals to accept the conclusion that God had signed a legal contract (covenant) with our original forefathers assuring them and their descendants ever-increasing cycles of creature comforts until the Rapture whisked us away to glory.

Our powerful consumer economy with its irrepressible, world-class turbo-engine contributed to our easy, misplaced confidence. The luxuries this wealth afforded the majority, reinforced our hidden assumptions. God had indeed committed Himself to protecting His people (if not our nation–after 9/11 that was no longer so clear) from the ravages of scarcity, desolation and destruction. We were uniquely blessed and assured immunity from the struggles most others on the globe faced every day.

I don’t think it too much of an exaggeration to say that whichever ecclesiastical bough we have placed our weight on, most of us share the assumption that Christ’s suffering did away (for the most part) with the need for ours. The cross saved us not only from Hell but from unexpected disasters, misery and distress—or so we fondly believe. We may never admit this to ourselves but when it all hits the fan, our angry, knee-jerk, emotional outburst, our reflexive cry: Why me?” gives us away. We happily cling to this sweet deception until reality breaks in and shatters our delightful fantasy into ragged pieces.

That a people who are devoted to the Scriptures could have embraced for so long the belief that they had been issued a “get out of suffering” card is almost inconceivable. A cursory scan of the main characters in the Bible creates a Who’s Who list of sufferers and strugglers. Intense pain and difficulty dog the steps of just about anybody who’s anybody in the Bible. Where this becomes utterly inescapable is when we look at the Psalms.

We know this collection of poems as the prayer/song book of the church. But, if you read it carefully you will notice that it reads almost like the private journal of a commando unit that has been pinned down and is ready to be overrun by hostile forces. A troubling assignment is to read through the whole book asking three questions: What are the general struggles that Christians face? What are specific hurtful acts that commonly afflict them? And, what are their emotional responses? The answers cause one to wonder how we could have possibly justified our triumphalist assumptions.

One of the most common characters referred to by the Psalmists is “enemy, adversary, or foe”. This cast of hostile characters is mentioned over 130 times; which is almost once in every chapter. Over 50 times the poets voice complaints about being hated and surrounded by those intent on doing them serious harm. A recurring source of suffering is that inflicted by the sharp tongues of the cruel and hateful (over 60 times). When all the references to actions and attitudes that cause sadness and pain are added up, there are over 275 of them. 

One of the most common activities of the Psalmists is that of crying, praying (in desperation) calling out, and complaining (over 75 times). The Psalmists spend more time pleading for help than they do thanking God for coming through. They are in such great distress that they find themselves frequently groaning, mourning, sighing, and weeping (almost 50 times). They are so exhausted by their sufferings they describe being emotionally and physically spent. So overwhelming are their troubles and so cast down by them that, at times, death seems to be drawing near. They sometimes sound like they have a death wish. 

In the Psalms there are around 200 descriptions of varied responses to the experiences of emotional and physical pain. Clearly, Israel’s song writers are much closer to country and western musicians than to those writing pop music. The soundtrack of the people of God is most-consistently that of the blues, not the happy, peppy, zesty worship choruses, with their determinedly up-beat tempo.

Assuming that Jesus was telling us the truth when He said that His life provides us an indicator of what we can expect, this is equally bothersome. His assurances deflate the hopes of all who come to Jesus to be healed of all their ailments, to avoid all emotional pain, and escape all tribulation. An honest review of the Scriptures should have alerted us that we were to expect just the opposite: followers of Jesus were put on notice from the outset that since the Master suffered cruelly and unjustly, His followers were to expect similar treatment.

So, what is a privileged Christian to make of a loss of privilege, of a cruel face-off with reduction, with diminishment, loss, failure, and the brutal pain of sudden defeat? Suffering tears us open and exposes our hearts’ hidden idols. The big question that confronts us at such moments is, in what will we place our confidence when what we trusted in was shown up as fraud? What will we make of long-held beliefs that have been publicly exposed as hollow, empty and vain? To whom will we run when the One we believe issued the guarantees seems to be intentionally dishonoring each one?

To make our way out of the Slough of Despond we must make our way through. There are no short-cuts. And to make our way through we must first make a choice: Will we allow the painful losses to make us bitter or will we turn to face the One who has battered and wounded us and along with Job say, “though you slay me yet will I trust you”? Rather than running away like an angry, despondent child will we quiet ourselves to listen and with little Samuel say, “I don’t understand, but speak Lord your weak and broken servant is listening”?

If we choose to sit in bowed silence willing to be smitten again if need be; willing to bear the yoke, or suffer the smarting sting of the disciplinary rod, or, harder still, submit to the pain of an inexplicable, brutal loss—He will draw near–eventually. If we choose to turn our faces expectantly to our good Father who loves us too perfectly to banish pain from our lives He will speak words of life to us. 

If in the bitter cauldron of abandonment, through bruised lips, we can cling in faith and yet say ‘my God, my God” we will feel a hand on our head and hear a whispered song and it will be filled with hope. But this later, in my experience, does not come without some serious and drawn out wounding by the Physician who must cut deeply before He can heal. And it never comes without leaving a decided limp.  

Tags: American myth of progress, charismatic gifts, dissapointment with God, loss, pain, right to happiness, suffering, triumphalism