Utter Dark Sayings to Your Children

Give ear, O my people, to my teaching;
    incline your ears to the words of my mouth!
 I will open my mouth in a parable;
    I will utter dark sayings from of old,
 things that we have heard and known,
    that our fathers have told us (Psalm 78:1-3).

There is a story we should be telling. It’s about a people who forget an unforgettable God. This forgetfulness encourages them to ignore His patience and provision. It enables them to dismiss His miracles. This story is a captivating one because of God’s power, but it’s dreadful because of man’s sin.

I picture a Sunday school class full of kids sitting crisscross-applesauce, leaning forward, eye-brows arched. The flannel graph has been abandoned and it’s just a teacher telling her students something true.

The Psalmist tells us that he will utter dark sayings from of old. He will not hide these stories from children, because God did not (v. 5-8). The story turns out to be a familiar one and the purpose is clear: we share it so that our children will not forget the works of God (v. 7). By watching Israel in some of her grittiest moments of unfaithfulness we gain insight into our own complicated relationship with sin.

This is where the flannel graph can make a comeback as long as you are quick at changing out scenes and characters. The Psalmist mentions some of the most famous stories in Israel’s history like the ten plagues, (v. 12), God parting the Red Sea (v. 13) and providing water from rocks in the desert (v. 15, 16). Somehow, incredibly, these are the very miracles God’s people forget (v. 9-11).

And this should register shock, not just in kids, but in each of us. How could anyone forget the fearsome power behind the plagues? The awe of that parted sea? It’s impossible.  But what we can do is live as though those miracles aren’t enough, which is exactly what Ephraim did.

We test God when our desire to satisfy our cravings is greater than our desire to honor Him. After God’s repeated deliverance, Israel tested God in their heart by demanding the food they craved. So God gave it to them. They wanted meat, so he rained meat on them like dust (28). Have you ever had a child ask you for more food while they are still chewing? And do you ever demand more from God before appreciating what He has given you—before thanking Him for the food already in your mouth? Israel, instead of accepting God’s good gifts, questioned His ability to provide. They found His mercy in the past insufficient for the present.

It reminds me of that scene from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory where Violet demands a piece of Wonka’s new, experimental chewing gum. Despite being surrounded by edible plants and wallpaper, she wants the gum. Wonka warns her not to eat it, but she grabs it anyway and pops it into her mouth. He watches her, shaking his head. When she turns into a blueberry, he isn’t surprised.

After God punished Israel’s selfish cravings (30, 31), a positive arch should have developed. They should have learned their lesson, repented, and moved forward in faith. This was a time to sit down around the desert camp-fire and share stories about God’s faithfulness. Time to tell little Benjie just how red the Nile looked that day. How breathlessly eager they felt, escaping from Egypt during the first Passover. It was time for them to recall the way God guided his people out of slavery like sheep and guided them in the wilderness like a flock. (v. 52) How He acted as a Father to them; faithful and strong.

But they didn’t.

When God punished them after yet another rebellion, they seemed repentant for a while. They paid Him some temporary lip service. But in their hearts, they did not submit to Him (v. 34-37). Can we relate to this at all? Do our children ever say sorry because they want to get off time-out? Do we ever mumble a prayer of repentance before communion, knowing full well that sin still has a hiding place in our heart? It’s absolutely incredible the way God responds to Israel, and to us, when we are insincere:

Yet he, being compassionate,
    atoned for their iniquity
    and did not destroy them;
he restrained his anger often
    and did not stir up all his wrath.
 He remembered that they were but flesh (v. 38, 39).

I wish I could say that this incredible compassion was received by humble hearts. But, like we so often do, Israel abused grace by letting sin abound (Rom. 6:1). They mocked God’s patience (v. 58, 59) and found idols they liked better. It is a dark, dark day when God the Shepherd is asked to remove his staff of protection from the fold. This is what Asaph recounts in the second half of the Palm. As with the meat, God gives them what they crave. He removes His presence and lets their idols protect them.

But God’s punishment, though fearsome, isn’t the darkest part of this story. Man’s sin is. It is the reason God’s judgement must exist. Sinning is the most outrageous response to a faithful and patient God (Deut. 7:9, 2 Thes. 3:3, Heb. 10:23, 2 Tim., 2:13).

In spite of all this, they still sinned;

Despite his wonders, they did not believe (v. 32).

Do our children grasp the depth of His wonders? If we don’t, they won’t.

We need to talk about what God has done in our lives, in the lives of our friends, in church history, and in the Word. Stories of His faithfulness should flood our living rooms and be stacked high on each night table. Stories of His creation, His hard-to-fathom knowledge, and His extravagant love in Christ should be on our lips so often that the idea of forgetting God causes us to gasp.

Tell your children this story until they gasp, not when God must punish Israel, but each time Israel rejects God.

What is the scariest story you can think of? The darkest one God can think of is when His own people, whom He purchased and guided to safety, forget Him, complain about His perfect provision, and leave Him for other gods.

If this is not the darkest story you can think of, you’re not telling it right.

…that the next generation might know them,
    the children yet unborn,
and arise and tell them to their children,
    so that they should set their hope in God
and not forget the works of God,
    but keep his commandments (Psalm 78:6,7).

by Rachel Watson

Article also published on The Gospel Coalition

Apologetics Don’t Save

I recently read female apologist Nancy Pearcey’s testimony in Christianity Today. It spoke to my barefooted, California-raised soul. After a crisis of faith that led her to walk away from Christianity, Pearcey ended up in L’Abri, Switzerland. There she found:

….an enclave of culturally savvy Christian hippies who understood the questions she was asking and were doing the hard work of finding answers. They identified her worldview as relativism, pointed out its logical flaws, and discussed Jackson Pollock paintings and epistemology over candlelit dinners. In the shadow of the Swiss Alps, Pearcey became open again to the intellectual tenability of faith. Within two years, she had given her life to Christ.

I love those Christians. They took time to tackle Pearcey’s doubts. But it wasn’t the worldview discussions or Pollock paintings that saved her. I imagine she would agree with Tim Keller that this form of apologetics cleared a path to the gospel. The believers she met helped sweep away the clutter so that she could see the cross.

Pearcey’s story reminds me of the importance of Christian apologetics. My time in the Gospels reminds me that apologetics has its limits:

“But who do you say that I am?” Simon Peter replied, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” And Jesus answered him, “Blessed are you, Simon Bar-Jonah! For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my Father who is in heaven.”

If I take some time to look over all the things Peter witnessed in flesh and blood, Jesus’ statement seems incredible:

Peter was called personally by Jesus (4:18-20). He saw him teach, heal, and grow in fame (4:23-25). He had a front row seat during the Sermon on the Mount (5:1-7:27) He saw Jesus cleanse a leper (8:1-4), commend the centurion’s faith (8:1-13), and heal his own mother-in-law (8:14-17). Peter witnessed Jesus fulfilling prophecy from Isaiah (8:17), calming a storm (8:23-27), casting out a legion of demons (8:28-34), and healing a paralytic man of his infirmity and sins. He saw crowds of people come to faith (9:1-8). He watched Jesus show love to tax collectors (9:9-13) and he heard the parables straight from his mouth. He was even given power to cast out demons and heal the sick (10:1-9). If anyone could credit his salvation to experience and proof, it was Peter.

But Jesus says that it wasn’t what Peter witnessed or experienced that saved him. It was God. There were others who saw the same things yet remained in disbelief (Jn. 12:37). Consider the Pharisees. In John 8, they accuse Jesus of illogic and demand more proof: You are bearing witness about yourself; your testimony is not true (v. 13). Instead of listing his miracles or bringing up John the Baptist, Jesus says: Even if I do bear witness about myself, my testimony is true for I know where I came from and where I am going, but you do not know where I come from or where I am going. You judge according to the flesh… (v. 14, 15).

Jesus does not satisfy them with the answers they want: My judgment is true for it is not I alone who judge but I and the Father (v. 15, 16). When we examine the skeptic’s questions, historical research, and scientific data, we must remember that, according to Jesus, the way to determine truth is to listen to God: If you abide in my word, you are truly my disciples, and you will know the truth (v. 31, 32).

Apologists love to bring up the Bereans. And rightly so! They with great eagerness examined the Scriptures every day to see if what Paul said was true (Acts 17:11). But where did they of such noble character go to find truth? Did they double-check Paul’s message with the sages or logisticians of the day? No. They poured over Scripture.

I’ve fought against believing that I have faith because God gave it to me. It seems circular. Why do you believe in God? Because of God. True salvation must be more complex than that. Shouldn’t I get some of my toughest questions answered first? Maybe once I can name five supports for the resurrection, I can commit to faith. But, no. That is not my testimony. When I explain my salvation, I have to steal John Piper’s description: The Bible tells me what happened to me, not my memory and not my experience. What happened to me is, I was raised from the dead.

This is where it began. With new life. Life that only God could breathe into me (Eph. 2:1-10, Col. 2:13). In that moment I was given the Holy Spirit who now daily breathes life into the Word so that I see God’s character, evidence of Christ’s deity, proof of my fallen nature, and future hope. My dad reminds his congregation: Where unbelief is the problem, and faith is the solution, where does faith come from? Not from doing apologetics research. “Faith comes from hearing, and hearing through the word of Christ” (Rom. 10:17).

Though at times I envy all that Peter witnessed, I must recognize that Peter’s experiences are mine through the Word. His eye-witness accounts, along with the rest of Scripture, is the broom that clears away my doubts and leads me to the cross. This is the broom I must share with the lost.

“Apologetics is driven by love,” says Pearcey. “You have to love people enough to listen to their questions and do the hard work of finding answers for them.”

What a humble and, quite frankly, beautiful attitude. I want to have coffee with Pearcey and introduce her to all my unbelieving friends. With her, I want to help clear away excuses, listen to the hard questions, and love those who are drenched in doubt. But I must remember this: apologetics don’t save anyone. God saves. Again, I reference wisdom from my dad: You simply cannot suspend faith in order to find the truth. To do so is sin. And though truth can be analyzed, discussed, and debated, Jesus consistently points us to God. And God points us to His Word. So that’s where I’ll be, though Pharisees jeer and doubters mock. It will offend the stubborn heart, but to those who believe, it will be the scent of new life (2 Cor. 2:15, 16).

Lord, I am not trying to make my way to Your height,
for my understanding is in no way equal to that,
but I do desire to understand a little of Your truth
which my heart already believes and loves.

I do not seek to understand so that I can believe,
but I believe so that I may understand;
and what is more,
I believe that unless I do believe,
I shall not understand.

--Anselm of Canterbury

Written by Rachel Watson

Article also published on The Aquila Report

Flannery O'Connor and Violent Grace

To Flannery O’Connor, grace was a violent thing. Not a solemn walk down a church aisle or a hushed prayer, but a bullet. A bull’s horn. A suicide.

You won’t find her in Christian book stores, though you may have read one of her stories in college. Her goal in writing fiction was clear:

My audience is the people who think God is dead. To the hard of hearing you shout, and for the almost-blind you draw large and startling figures.

Her characters are grotesque. Her religious voice is unconventional. 

She’s kind of my hero.

Grace is shocking

When I first hand my students an O’Connor story, their typical response is to cringe or ask incredulously: What did I just read?

I understand this reaction. It’s what good ‘ole Flannery would have wanted. Shock. But she wanted that shock to lead to understanding. So before helping my students unpack the story, I ask them a question:

What must come before grace?

I ask because the answer is what every Flannery O’Connor story is about: the moment when a character realizes they need grace.  

In A Good Man is Hard to Find that moment arrives when a notorious convict points his gun at a grandma. Though she’s spent the majority of the story picking at others while basking in her own goodness, she has a moment of clarity. She looks at the criminal and is reminded of her own son. She realizes that the two men aren’t so different. She stops talking. Her fancy hat falls to the ground. And she sees that she isn’t so different from the murderer, either. Her epiphany ends abruptly, with three bullets to the chest:

“She would have been a good woman,” the Misfit said, “if it had been somebody there to shoot her every minute of her life.”

With this morbid line, O’Connor reminds her audience that grace is a wake-up call. It carries a dramatic message: You are not ok. You never will be. You need something outside of yourself.

Grace is for the guilty

When I think about the grandmother’s epiphany, I think about a song by indie artist, Sufjan Stevens. It’s about John Wayne Gacy, the serial killer known for dressing up as a clown and murdering over thirty teenage boys in the 1970s. The last lines of the song are striking:

And in my best behavior/I am really just like him.

This is the realization we must come to. Before we can accept grace, we must admit that we are filthy, rotten sinners who need grace. It’s what the Pharisees of Jesus’ day couldn’t understand. In Luke 18, Jesus tells a parable aimed directly at their stubborn hearts: He told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous (v. 9).

You know the story. Two men enter a temple to worship. The Pharisee stands tall and proud saying: God, I thank you that I am not like other men while the other man can hardly lift his face (v. 11). Instead, he stays low to the ground and cries out: God, be merciful to me, a sinner! (v. 13)

Until we see ourselves as sinners, we won’t recognize Christ as Savior (Luke 5:31). I remember interviewing a prostitute in Los Angeles years ago. She said that one night she saw a man murdered. Somebody threw him out a window. Everyone knew who did it, but no one told. I asked her why not and she said that the murdered man had molested a child. Anyone who would do something like that deserves to die, she said.

She’s right. Anyone who would do that deserves to die. But it’s more than that. Anyone who sins against God in any way deserves death. James 2:10 puts me in the same camp as pedophiles and serial killers: For whoever keeps the whole law but fails in one point has become accountable for all of it.

I have failed. I’m accountable for all of it. I need grace.

Grace is offensive

In another O’Connor story, The Lame Shall Enter First, a confident atheist, Shepherd, realizes that his good deeds have missed the mark.  After the loss of his wife, he reaches out to a bitter, delinquent, teenage boy with a clubfoot. Rufus wants nothing to do with him, but Shepherd insists. He takes him into his home, buys him a new boot, and tells him how much potential he has. He spends all his time playing savior to someone who doesn’t want his help. All the while, his son grieves alone. By the time Shepherd realizes his mistake, it’s too late. His son is gone.  

Throughout this story, grace continually offends. It offends Shepherd’s pride and superior intellect. That book is something for you to hide behind, he says when he sees Rufus reading the Bible. It’s for cowards, people who are afraid to stand on their own feet and figure things out for themselves.

He assures Rufus: You don’t believe it. You’re too intelligent. But Rufus angrily replies: You don’t know nothing about me. Even if I didn’t believe it, it would still be true. Grace is what we need, whether we accept it or not. And though Shepherd dismisses the gospel at every turn, he is given insight into the depths of his own failure. He failed to save Rufus. He failed his own son. He is the one in need of a shepherd.

Grace is offensive because it points to the deficiency in each of us.

Grace is costly

Even more offensive than our need for grace is how much it costs.

Too often I forget that because God is just, my sins couldn’t just disappear. They had to be punished. And Jesus walked toward that punishment. He walked toward the hill where pain was a promise.

His death wasn’t merely symbolic. When we read about the countless slaughtered animals in the Old Testament, we must make the connection: Jesus’ body was the ultimate bloody sacrifice. It was real nails ripping through skin and muscle. His emotional agony was so intense that, before his death, he asked God if there was any other way (Mat. 26:39).

None of us could die as Jesus died. Sinless. The perfect substitute. His death was gory because that is what our sins deserve.

Grace is God’s desire

The Pharisees wanted to know why Jesus spent so much time with unworthy people.

Jesus told them. It was because they were sick and needed a doctor. He saw the Pharisees’ disease as well. He knew that it ran deep but that they were unwilling to cry out for help. Witnessing people reject the medicine of grace grieved Jesus:

"Jerusalem, Jerusalem, you who kill the prophets and stone those sent to you, how often I have longed to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, and you were not willing (Luke 13:34).

And when he drew near and saw the city, he wept over it (Luke 19:41).

Grace is costly. It is necessary. And God desires that we admit our problem and embrace His solution.

Flannery O’Connor may have written violent stories about strange characters from the South, but she understood grace. She knew that no man is righteous until he is clothed in Christ. This requires that we see our nakedness and recognize our need. For the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost (Luke 19:10).

’Twas grace that taught my heart to fear,
And grace my fears relieved;
How precious did that grace appear
The hour I first believed.

--John Newton

As for me, I am poor and needy,
    but the Lord takes thought for me.
You are my help and my deliverer;
    do not delay, O my God!

Psalm 40:17

Written by Rachel Watson (This article also appeared on The Gospel Coalition)

Idolatrous Expectations & Pinterest Wedding Shrines

As a teenager, I read my fair share of Christian romance novels. They were full of dramatic plot lines, sexual tension, one room school houses and Canadian Mounties. The leading men were imperfect but in a tousled and endearing sort of way. They always knew what to say. All the female characters were beautiful, but distressed, to ensure the reader plenty of drama. Each story ended with a sigh.

Today, women can indulge their romantic side by using Pinterest. They can build relationship shrines out of images of engagement rings and couple shots and create virtual collages of attractive men, romantic dates, perfect playlists, and unique wedding favors. I have seen girls as young as thirteen with these boards. They are collecting comparisons.

 This magazine says that the right guy will know what his girlfriend wants for Christmas.

This pastor says that saving sex until marriage ensures a satisfying and uncomplicated sex-life.

This film is my favorite because he sweeps her off her feet by showing up at the prom to slow dance with her to her favorite song!

 This salesmen says that when you try on the right wedding dress, you will “just know” (and probably weep).

 This picture proves that guys can have six-packs. I won’t date anyone unless he has a six-pack.

 This blogger recommends putting unique date ideas into a jar and pulling one out every week.

 This TV show contains a highly flawed female character with a perfect boyfriend who adores her. I will only marry a guy if he accepts my constant moodiness and sass!

 Don’t let yourself off the hook. Replace Christian romance novels and Pinterest with anything else that may have you building up unrealistic expectations. Maybe it’s the music you listen to. Does it make romantic love out to be a religion? Maybe it’s the Nicolas Sparks books you hide under your desk at work. Is it the pictures your friends post on Facebook of their seemingly perfect marriages, kids, and family vacations? It could even be the advice of other Christians. Regardless of their source, the following relationship lies pose a threat to true contentment: 

 Lie #1: You will be happy once you are married.

 In other words, tough luck singles. You’re missing out. Only married people know what true happiness is.

 But waiting for happiness, whether you are single waiting for marriage, married waiting for children, or married waiting for your spouse to change, is idolatrous territory. When we hold our joy captive until we get what we want, a vicious cycle of discontentment begins. God calls us to be content right now:

 Hebrews 13:5:…be content with what you have, for he has said, “I will never leave you nor forsake you.

Even if your last tweet was a picture of a tub of ice cream, followed by #foreveralone, you have the opportunity to be content. My dad once cautioned me: You will be as content as you are right now, three years after you get married. In other words, if I could learn contentment as a single college student, I could continue to practice it into marriage, even after the initial excitement had worn off. Or, I could be discontent with my singleness and eventually discontent with my marriage.

Lie #2: Love fixes everything

 In films, love is the answer. Characters' lives could be falling apart, their planet on the verge of collapse, until they meet the one. Suddenly problems vanish. Flames and wreckage fall strategically around the couple as they embrace. Love is all you need, right?

 Real life is different. Love as he might, a husband cannot always comfort his wife out of post-partum depression. A wife cannot simply hand her husband confidence after he loses his job. When we expect our spouse’s love to solve all of our problems, we are setting ourselves up for disappointment. Though it sure makes them easier to endure, love can’t make trials disappear. Love is powerful, not omnipotent.

 Accepting this leaves less room for disappointment and more room for grace. I often tell my husband that his hugs are healing. It’s true, too. When my back hurts or my emotions are ragged, being held by him provides instant comfort. But when he releases his hug, my back problems aren’t magically gone. I am still exhausted. My husband hasn't failed me, he just…isn’t God.

 Because, you see, love does fix everything. Christ’s love. It fixes our ultimate problem of sin and separation from God. Expecting your spouse to be your Savior ensures discontent. Looking to Christ ensures salvation. He alone can remove our burdens and take our blame; and not just temporarily, but forever.

Lie #3: You will always “get” each other

 Men seem to be particularly bad at mind-reading. My husband is thrilled when he can predict my answer to a question. He is thrilled because it is rare. When I try to read his thoughts, I usually get it wrong as well. I read something negative into a sigh or something specific into a general comment. Neither of us are any good at telepathy.

 It’s important to confront this lie because believing it discourages real communication. When a woman gives her husband the silent treatment to communicate frustration, she is promoting confusion, not understanding. When a man makes a passive aggressive comment about his wife leaving her clothes on the floor, he is not giving her a chance to change. He is just venting his anger. We need to use our words. He doesn’t know that you hate sundried tomatoes on your pizza? Tell him. She doesn’t know you like to dance? Tell her.

 Maybe I fail to see the romance in guessing, but I believe it takes more love to listen well and clearly articulate your thoughts than it does to buy into the myth that true love “always knows.” True love works hard to know. Maybe some of those silent signals and passive aggressive comments aren’t worth turning into real conversation. Or maybe they represent larger issues that need to be addressed. Maybe your love wishes they knew what your favorite candy was so they could buy it for you.

 Talking is the new guessing. Try it.

 Lie #4: Love is always romantic and unexpected

Too many stories end right after the proposal or wedding ceremony. We don’t get to watch the couple go through life together. We don’t get to see their first fight, the way they handle money problems, discipline their kids, or how they deal with illness. As a result, many expect marriage to be just like dating.

 This one requires not just a shift in expectations, but perspective. Our culture’s definition of “romance” is too narrow. Though marriage does not contain the fluttery nerves, new cologne, and best manners of a first date, there is a great deal of romance in the regular. My 90 year old grandpa regularly sets his alarm clock for 12 a.m. so that he can wake up my diabetic grandmother for her midnight snack. As a stoic WWII vet and survivor of the Great Depression, he has never been verbally affectionate. But when I watch him faithfully take care of his wife in this way, it is more romantic to me than any movie or book.

My husband and I joke that our honeymoon ended during our actual honeymoon. After a few romantic days in Monterey, California, we drove my vintage Honda to Oklahoma. It broke down three times! While we waited for some rare car part in Shamrock, Texas, my laptop decided to eat its hard drive. On that dusty road trip with all its breakdowns and disappointments, we got to know each other better. We practiced serving each other when we were tired. We made each other laugh when things got rough. If events like sickness and broken cars seem like romance-killers to you, then they will be. But if you expect real-life situations to enter and impact your marriage and view them as opportunities to demonstrate Christ-like love, you have a lot to look forward to.

  Lie #5: Love means never having to change

 Girls, too often I hear you talk about how he needs to “accept you for who you are,” then in the same breath, recite a list of all the qualities he must possess. Isn’t this a double-standard? Guys, I have seen you try every which way to impress the girl before you marry her only to abandon all attempts at wooing after she says I do. The main problem with this lie is that it is self-focused instead of Christ-focused.

 Self-love says: I deserve what I want and don’t have to change for anyone.

 Christ-like love says: I deserve eternal punishment but have been given eternal grace. I will continue to seek new ways to be more like Christ.

 Sinners should enter marriage ready to change. You asked God to mold and refine you before you were married. Don’t stop just because you have a ring on your finger!

 Our motivation for changing should always be God’s glory and Christ-likeness. Christ was a servant. He laid down his life for his sheep (John 10:11). He did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage (Phil. 2:6). He gave of himself when he was exhausted. He cared about people when they were sick, unlovely, and unpopular. And He did all of these thing for His Father’s glory. Don’t ask your spouse to put up with biting comments or get used to your constant moodiness. Ask God to chip away at your sinfulness and your spouse to forgive you when you sin against them. Seek first His kingdom (Mat. 6:33) in your marriage.   

 What about the person you marry? Elizabeth Eliot said: You marry a sinner. There simply isn’t anything else to marry. We know that we are sinners. We need to remember that our spouses are, too. Don’t enter marriage with the expectation that your spouse will change. Though Christ-like love certainly has the power to change people, your job is to love your spouse. Think they need to change? God is the right one to go to for that. He has the power to change people, so prayer should be our first response. There will be times when we need to boldly speak the truth in love to our spouse (Eph. 4:12), especially if they are in sin. But there will be many more times when we are called to show them love when they haven’t changed. When they have hurt us or let us down. We need to remember that marriage, though a powerful symbol of Christ’s love for the church, is imperfect; a shadow of things to come (Col. 2:17).

 Defeating Disappointment

Matthew 6:21 says: For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also. When we treasure relationships more than we treasure Christ, our heart belongs to the creation instead of the Creator (Rom. 1:25). I love being married to my husband. But if I place him in a spot that only God should occupy, he won’t ever measure up.

 Disappointment is the gap between reality and expectations. The only way to guard against it is to worship Christ. He never disappoints. When we fall at His feet, our relationships and marriages can become what they should be: opportunities to show love to other undeserving people, just like us.

Written by Rachel Watson (This article also appeared in RELEVANT)

A Choice in Suffering

My soul is weary with sorrow;
    strengthen me according to your word (Ps. 119:28).

When Brittany Maynard opted to end her own life (via legal, doctor-assisted suicide) at the beginning of this month, I was going through a trial. Surprise and anger over my situation were soon replaced by sadness. Comments about Maynard’s brave choice and bold statement made me wonder: what would it feel like to have power over pain? With a heavy, metaphorical anchor on my chest, the thought seemed appealing. Momentarily, of course. But in that moment, I could empathize with Maynard’s desire and ultimate decision. She didn’t want to suffer.

The Washington Post published an article on Maynard with statistics about the motive behind most doctor-assisted suicides:

In Oregon, at least eight in 10 say they made the choice to end their lives because they fear losing autonomy, losing dignity, or that they'll be less able to participate in activities that make life enjoyable.

After reading this, one word came to mind: choice. Maynard was given the right to “die with dignity.” She was given the choice to prevent further suffering. Choice in suffering. Have you ever longed for it? Job certainly did:

Oh, that I might have my request,
    that God would grant what I hope for,
that God would be willing to crush me,
    to let loose his hand and cut off my life! (Job 6:8,9)

Like Maynard, Job wanted to die. Both had a desire to be released from pain. But while Job submitted his request to God, Maynard took a life that was not her own (1 Cor. 6:19). One recognized his position as man. The other tried to play God.

The Prospect of Hope

Job was by no means a stoic sufferer. His raw questions confirm this:

What strength do I have, that I should still hope?
    What prospects, that I should be patient? (Job. 6:11)

Yet he did not, despite his wife’s advice to curse God and die (Job 2:9), try to end his own life. In chapters worth of monologue about his anguish and pain, the subject of suicide never comes up. Some might explain this as having to do with the laws or cultural expectations of his day. Even Brittany Maynard had to move to Oregon, one of the four states where physician assisted suicide is legal, in order to end her life. Job’s friends and wife had pronounced him cursed and unrepentant. How much influence would “societal expectations” have had on him? No, suicide was not an option because to Job, God was the author of life and death.

Comparing Job and Maynard’s responses leads me to an important question:

Do Christians have any choice in suffering?

The overwhelming answer is yes. Studying the subject of suffering in scripture not only leads one to promises and blessings but choices. Maynard made the choice to end her earthly suffering. Christians have the opportunity to choose life in suffering. Christ in suffering! And hope in every trial. Here are some of the choices we have in our deepest valleys:

We can choose to imitate Jesus:

For to this you have been called, because Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example, so that you might follow in his steps (1 Peter 2:21).

Jesus suffered more than anyone on earth ever has or will, all out of obedience to His Father and love for us. If following him includes suffering, we can count it an honor to suffer.

We can choose to rely on God’s strength:

He gives strength to the weary    

    and increases the power of the weak (Isa. 40:29).

Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power (Eph. 6:10). 

We are never asked to be strong without God. Despite our culture’s promotion of “inner strength” and the countless bumper stickers and Pinterest quotes  about self-sufficiency, the Christian is called to boast in weakness. For each weakness is an opportunity to point to God’s strength:

But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me (2 Cor. 12:9, 10).

We can choose to rejoice:

Rejoicing in pain seems unnatural. Yet the passages below provide a larger context for this joy. Trials sanctify. They make us more like Christ. This is something to celebrate:

Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us (Rom. 5:3-5).

Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness.  And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing (James 1:2-4).

We can choose to anticipate the future:

The Christian knows that all suffering is temporary. We can anticipate the eternal presence of God in paradise, no matter how hard it gets on earth:

And after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you (1 Peter 5:10).

For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us (Rom. 8:18).

We can choose the crown of life:

Blessed is the man who remains steadfast under trial, for when he has stood the test he will receive the crown of life, which God has promised to those who love him (James 1:12).

The Choice in Suffering

There is nothing simple about loving God in suffering. Bitterness, doubt, and alienation are our natural response. To the world, Maynard's choice seems like a logical approach when suffering is certain. But it shouldn't take terminal brain cancer for a Christian to confront the certainty of pain. John 16:33 promises us that in the world you will have tribulation. It’s coming. It’s not going to be easy. It might knock the wind out of you. But you have a choice. 

Written by Rachel Watson