Christian suffering normally has relief this side of heaven. Nowhere in scripture do I believe that is fully promised. It is often spoken of, and it is the normative thing that happens to sufferers in scripture. I don’t think we can say, hey, we know that this suffering will always be lifted, but suffering normally finds relief. It normally has at least somewhat of an exp exp expiration date that is not just eternal. — Pastor Ben Excerpt taken from “Even Here – part 3” https://www.fellowshipsj.org/episode/even-here-part-3/
Video Transcript:
The end of Christian suffering. Oh man, I’ve looked forward to seeing those words. Couple of things as we close. Christian suffering normally has relief this side of heaven. Nowhere in scripture do I believe that is fully promised.
It is often spoken of, and it is the normative thing that happens to sufferers in scripture. I don’t think we can say, hey, we know that this suffering will always be lifted, but suffering normally finds relief. It normally has at least somewhat of an exp exp expiration date that is not just eternal. It is normally here.
Suffering is often, as we mentioned, the screw going into wood. Something we go through cyclically. But I do not believe that misery is the normative state of a Christian. God will bring you through. Almost always on this side of heaven. But lastly Number 20, even if it is in heaven or not till heaven, suffering is a very brief part of the Christian experience.
Of following Christ, being with Christ, even if the suffering lasts far longer, even if it’s not as it normally is, relieved on this side of heaven, healing is promised, ultimate healing, in paradise forever, in union with Him forever. And in those days, and in those years, and in those decades, and in those centuries, and in those millennium, we’ll be able to look back and say, you know what, that suffering was so painful.
But it was brief compared to what we get to have.
I’m gonna do something that literally could not be more narcissistic. I’m gonna read a part of my book to you. I just want to tell you what happened as I, as I wrote. And I’m just gonna conclude with a couple of paragraphs. I started writing about, Spurgeon, Nowin, Mother Teresa, C. S. Lewis, and I dove somewhat deep into their stories and understanding a lot of their pain, and it is dark.
It is really intense. It was more intense than I was ready for. I thought, hey, this is going to be an easier chapter when I did this. And then it became my longest and most difficult chapter because of the amount of sorrow that they had in their own lives, these heroes of the faith. And, and when I did this, we were in Columbia, we were seeing a lot of poverty.
There was, there was a lot of. Things that we were facing that just felt really painful and and as I was writing this book on Christian suffering I just became Overtaken is the way it felt on three levels. The first I felt this personal sense of fear. I Don’t want to suffer. I Use the words of C. S. Lewis.
I’m a coward when it comes to suffering I don’t want to suffer the extent of some of the worst times that I have had in my past I never want that again. I also felt as I was reading of these saints, the sense of like, injustice, of like, how come they had to suffer? Like, these people led us to the foot of, feet of God, told us about His love.
Why did they have to go to hell to find it? And then third, as I got like, universal and pretty dark, I like, just felt the sufferings of other people. Part of that was being in Columbia and seeing some real poverty and hearing about some dark, dark things. Part of that is just being a pastor of you all and, and having walked through some different stories.
Don’t want anymore. I don’t have the stomach for it. It’s too much. And in that moment, like, I almost didn’t want hope. As I was writing this chapter, like, you know what? Hope is too painful. Let’s just turn off all the lights and call it a day. But what held me through was this image of heaven. And I’m just going to read you this little bit as we conclude.
I felt close to Spurgeon, Lewis, Mother Teresa, and now, and I felt close to those who know the suffering that they knew. I felt close to you, the Fellowship of the Tormented. I do mean this. You are heroes of mine. We make up a hobbled army. At times we feel like we’re just like every other person. At times we feel like we are blessed to know our way of Christ, even in the dark.
At other times, we are begging that Christ would take this cross from us. We know lots of times, but we keep going. With plenty of limping, second guessing, laughing at ourselves and crying when it is just too much. I want to end this chapter with a view of heaven. In that place, Spurgeon knows no more physical or mental torture.
He no longer gazes into the abyss of the English Channel, clinging to his last bits of weathered hope. He now stares into the glory of Christ, eyes lit with joy and mirth. I think of Louis who’s no longer reduced to the feelings of a coward in the face of his grief and anxiety. He doesn’t have to wrestle with pain, theologically or philosophically, for himself or for us anymore.
He’s reunited with his wife. Mother Teresa knows unbroken fellowship with the Christ she married on earth. There are no more lessons to be taught or learned by the teacher of silence. She’s fully with him and he with her. Think about you and me who are not yet there yet our questions are not resolved.
Our uncertainties remain uncertain. Our timeline of the seasons of pain do not have an end date that we can see. We travel this world of faith and suffering on its precarious path, and don’t always know how much more we can take. I cannot wait for heaven with you. I can’t wait to see what we will gain there and what we shall leave behind.
I long to speak to you there of how he got us through the very times we thought were too deep, too wide, too long, and too high for us to endure. I long to hear how he showed us then, and for forever, that his love was deeper, wider, longer, and higher still. Dear weary traveler, You won’t be weary long.