Suffering and glory

The Bible holds a scale before us and we are given an exercise of faith – to weigh our suffering on one side, and eternity on the other.

Photo: Peter Hochheim

Living in this world means suffering. But for the believer, suffering and glory belong together.

When Paul describes our suffering, he holds a scale before us. Not a bathroom scale, but an ancient scale: one that balances one weight against the other. On the one side, Paul places all the suffering Christians will endure on this side of eternity. How heavy is that?

According to 2 Corinthians 4:17, it’s “light and momentary” (“For this slight momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison.”*)

That might seem insensitive, even unrealistic. What’s light and momentary about lifelong chronic pain? What’s light and momentary about crippling arthritis? What’s light and momentary about the death of a loved one?

Some religions teach that matter, including evil and suffering, is “maya,” an illusion. But the Bible portrays a very different reality. Jesus’ suffering in Gethsemane was real. It was horrible. And it was heavy. The Bible never sweeps our suffering away.

In fact, Philippians 1:29 asserts that it has been graciously granted to us that we should not only believe in Christ, but suffer for his sake. Some members of my church were disowned by their families when they confessed faith in Christ, and they have suffered under that burden.

The call to suffering may come because one takes the commands for obedience seriously. But however it comes, it will come.

Furthermore, the book of Hebrews tells us that suffering is actually God’s discipline. Not punishment; discipline. In fact, the call to suffering is God’s way of treating us as children; it’s a mark we bear that identifies us as his own.

None of this belittles the suffering of the child of God. Indeed, it elevates it. But we must compare our present experience of suffering to the pleasure in eternity. And so the Bible holds a scale before us, and we are given an exercise of faith, to weigh our suffering on one side, and then on the other, eternity.

Let’s consider this further in Romans 8:18–25.

For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us.

“I consider,” says Paul. In the Greek, “consider” is a mathematical word, a word for calculating a sum. If one places on one side of a scale one’s present suffering and on the other side the future glory and then calculates the difference, the present suffering would be so small as to render it inconsequential in comparison. When a believer passes through the portal of death, there is an outburst of inexpressible joy, delight, and soul rapture so profound and real and everlasting and heavy, the greatest suffering of this world is light in comparison.

This truth is intended to make us yearn for eternity. But, it is not only we who yearn for eternity.

For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the sons of God.

Many of us remember earlier space launches. The old Apollo spacecrafts included booster rockets, fuel tanks, and all sorts of things that were jettisoned after hurling the tiny manned capsule into orbit. Sometimes we think of eternity in that fashion. “It’s all going to burn,” we say.

But Paul speaks of an “eager longing” in creation. The root word here means “craning of the neck.” I understand that word. Since I’m only 5’9”, it seems that every time I’m in a crowd someone 6’1” is standing in front of me. It must be Murphy’s Law. So I end up stretching my neck as far as I can, leaning from side to side, even jumping up and down to see what is partially obscured.

And that’s precisely what creation is doing. It is craning its neck for an event still partially obscured.

But now comes the really stunning part. We might assume the event is the second coming of Jesus. But the text says creation is jumping up and down, straining its neck, for the “revealing” of the children of God. What believers presently are is not what they shall be, and this leaves creation trembling, anticipating, breathless!

For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of him who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to decay and obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God.

But right now nature is unfulfilled and groaning. “Futility” speaks of the inability of something to fulfill its intended purpose. Creation is like the preacher in Ecclesiastes, groaning out the words “meaningless, meaningless, everything is meaningless.”

After the fall, Adam was told the ground would now bear thistles. Now that sin has entered the world, creation bears other things as well. It bears earthquakes, floods, tsunamis, droughts, and famines. It bears viruses, bacteria, fungi, and parasites. It bears the seeds of suffering and death. Creation is unable to fulfill its purpose and, instead, militates against its purpose.

When the first explorers came down the St. Lawrence River, it was so abundant with fish they could lower a basket on a rope from the side of the boat into the water and lift it up full of fish. Imagine that! Today, the St. Lawrence is dead. And if one listens carefully, one can hear it groaning.

This is but a picture of a world pulsating with the dynamism of life now reduced to a faint image of its former glory, deliberately subjected to futility after the fall.

“The underdeveloped societies suffer from one set of diseases: tuberculosis, malnutrition, pneumonia, parasites, typhoid, cholera, typhus, etc.,” Ralph Winter, founder of the U.S. Center for World Mission, has said. “Affluent America has virtually invented a whole new set of diseases: obesity, arteriosclerosis, heart disease, strokes, lung cancer, venereal disease, cirrhosis of the liver, drug addiction, alcoholism, divorce, battered children, suicide, murder . . . Our affluence has allowed both mobility and isolation of the nuclear family, and as a result, our divorce courts, our prisons and our mental institutions are flooded.”

Can you hear the groans of futility? We live longer, but are more fearful of growing older. We worship sex, but fear pregnancy. We have more counselling, yet more divorce, depression, and suicide. Creation is groaning.

For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now.

However – and the distinction is vital – not all groaning and suffering are the same. It might be just as painful to be in labour as to suffer from cancer, but one is the groaning of death and the other the groaning of life.

Indeed, optimism is demanded of us. 2 Peter 3:10–13 speaks of the renewal of the earth. Believers look forward to a new heaven and a new earth. One day, all creation will be gloriously in line with the purposes of God.

Why is this so important? It’s important because, apart from faith, all suffering, evil, futility, and disappointment is meaningless and but a sign of death. But in Christ, sufferings are not the final cries in an empty universe. Rather, they are rich, anticipatory cries – the prelude to joy, life, freedom, and fulfillment.

And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly while we wait for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved. . . . we wait for it with patience.

Years ago, I read about a product being marketed that never quite took off. Individuals who were trying to diet but loved fattening foods could spray a little taste of ice cream, or pie, or chocolate onto their tongues. The idea was that one could have the taste without eating the food.

The taste of chocolate on my tongue, however, makes me want to break into a chocolate factory! A foretaste never makes me say, “That’s enough.” It whets my appetite.

The word here is “firstfruits” but I have deliberately substituted “foretaste” so we get Paul’s point. The idea of a firstfruit comes from the Old Testament idea of offering. At the beginning of the harvest, the first part of the crop was offered to God, in faith, knowing there was an abundance to come.

In the same way, having the Holy Spirit in our lives is a firstfruit – or downpayment or foretaste – of an abundance to come. Earlier in Romans 6, Paul spoke of what the Holy Spirit gives: life and peace (v.6), life (v.10), putting to death the deeds of the body (v.13), adoption and crying out Abba (v.15).

All of that is just the beginning! And I am groaning – with joy and anticipation – until I get the whole thing. Anyone who has the Spirit cannot be satisfied with this world.

But it’s amazing how many people are satisfied with this world. Their dreams are this-worldly dreams. They want houses, cars, a good income, an early retirement, and comfort. Or they want a good job and good health and a good marriage. And those who don’t get the good life are groaning, in despair and hopelessness.

John Piper, in Don’t Waste Your Life, says, “I will tell you what a tragedy is. I will show you how to waste your life. Consider this story from the February 1998 Reader’s Digest: A couple ‘took early retirement from their jobs . . . when he was 59 and she was 51. Now they live in Punta Gorda, Florida, where they cruise on their 30-foot trawler, play softball and collect shells . . .’ Picture them before Christ at the great day of judgment: ‘Look Lord. See my shells.’ That is a tragedy.”

It is a tragedy: a lifetime groaning for shells because you never had the Holy Spirit, who puts a taste in your mouth that you would be willing to suffer for here – just to get more of there.

That is the reason for our suffering. God doesn’t want us to put our hope in things on this side of eternity, to spend our lives collecting shells. God would have us groan for eternity. Our suffering will seem light and momentary against that eternal weight of glory.

John Neufeld is senior pastor at Willingdon Church, Burnaby, B.C.

* All Bible references are from the English Standard Version.