[Bet you didn't think I'd ever write about hope, did you?] There's a blue post-it note on the inside cover of my Bible. I'm not really sure how it got there. I don't think I've ever owned blue, unlined post-its. The handwriting is mine, so it's a fair bet that I contributed to its creation and placement. I've become so used to seeing it that I've stopped seeing it; but I saw it again this morning. love that makes suffering more acute It's not even a full sentence, so I date this around 2012-- back when I first took linguistics and really reveled in the arbitrary nature of grammar. [And yes, of course my post about hope includes suffering. Surely you expected this?]
Lots of people have written about how more acute suffering indicates a more acute love. In that relationship, the suffering is an indication of love. In the line on my post-it, it is more clearly stated that it is the love that causes the suffering. I don't know what prompted me to put in my Bible, but I like that it's there. Being a Christian means living in a glorious love. We, by the grace of Christ, are able to live each day in the assurance of our salvation. Jesus was the propitiation for our sins--past tense. It is finished. We are reconciled. We are free to pursue God unhindered and work to restore right relationship between ourselves and the earth, and be peacemakers among others. We are free to choose something other than sin. This is true love, that the Lord gifts this to such creatures as us! And yet, there is an undeniable tension. Because the more in Love we are, the more pain we see. When I was not a Christian, it did not pain me to see others scorn God. It did not hurt me to see parents snipe at their children, and children mock their parents. I may have been saddened by world tragedies, but they did not cause my soul to cry out. I did not know what glory creation was meant for, so I did not care how far away it had fallen. The work of the Christian--rather, one particular work of the Christian--is to choose engaging in a love that makes suffering more acute. The hard part about this, for me, is that choosing to engage in this love often equates to choosing hope. If I am to choose Love, I am bound to abiding by Love's words. Which means I must accept Love's promise of a restored kingdom; I must believe in a new earth where every tribe, nation, and tongue worships together; I must trust that every child of God will be reconciled to Christ, that every heart God has chosen will ultimately turn to him. If I hope that these are true, then I must act as if they are true. Which means I must love others, knowing that many will reject me. I must preach the Gospel, knowing many will reject Christ. I must seek reconciliation between cultures, and feel the tangible pain each time a news story breaks . I must fully hope in Love in every way, knowing that this act will make suffering that much more acute. It's a hard call. It's one thing to work through some kind of trial, something we normally think of as "suffering". It's another to know that, because we've chosen to accept God's Love, His love in us causes us to feel brokenness more, feel suffering more. We feel the brokenness of our neighbors acutely, but resolutely go forward sharing Christ's love. We mourn with those who have lost, yet share the hope of God's promises. We suffer acutely with the world because we have been Loved on the cross, and hope in the final culmination of that Love in Christ's return. It is this love and this hope that causes us such pain, but the suffering is evidence that our eyes and hearts are being formed into ones like Christ's. I feel much suffering for the world lately. It is easier not to choose hope. It is easier to harden my heart, to give into cynicism, to expect less. But it is not possible to do this and remain in Love. To be in love is to hope for its triumph, and to feel the pain of the difference. Rachel Fruit and Labor
1 Comment
"So....this is what I was doing during the second part of the sermon," my friend hands me a piece of paper. "I think these are all the main points I want to bring up. Am I missing anything?"
I scan the sheet in front of me--she's outlined some strong theological points regarding why our church's current rhetoric on singleness is both damaging to the members, and in some cases unbiblical; she's bringing it to the leadership. "I think that's everything we've talked about. And these last two points here?" I flick the bottom of the page "Dang. These are good. I really hate the whole "singleness is temporary so make sure you're actively trying to get married or you're not growing!!!!" thing." "I can't believe I'm doing this," she mutters distractedly before answering. "But yeah, just-- completely aside from the fact that singleness isn't a transitional state for everyone and you shouldn't assume that, isn't that the point of Jeremiah? To settle in that transition and put down roots and serve God where you've been placed now?" Transitions. Two years out of college and one year after my current job, I do feel like I've reached the other side of the Early 20s Major Life Transitions--with the exception that I'm moving next weekend. As my roommate and I planned to transition from one apartment to another, we were constantly thinking about how permanent this was. In my head, it'll probably last a few years and then maybe I'll look at houses. But even knowing that our new place would only last us 1-3 years, we were asking the question "Is this a place where we can invest in the people around us?" Some of reasons we chose the apartment we did were that 1) Two of her friends will be in the same unit as us 2) The management seems involved and around, and 3) The physical structure of the units makes it possible that we could get to know our neighbors. It seems like a place we could invest in. The apartment is a transitional place to live--but that doesn't mean we're not settling in it or treating it seriously. I'm buying an area rug, because you don't live in a place for a year and not decorate. You invest in your home, you make it beautiful, you invite people in. Just because you're in a transition, doesn't mean you don't press into it. It's very easy to treat transitions as temporary because, well, they are. They don't last, and eventually some life event happens: you move, you get a job, you get a spouse, you get a dog, whatever. But there's this very real danger in treating transitions as temporary because you end up placing undue weight on what might happen in the future, thereby neglecting the reality of now. Additionally, depending on what thing I'm treating as a transition, I might be wrong--I may never marry, I may never get a dog. It might not actually be a transition. If I treat unemployment as a transition and assume employment in the future, I might be too lazy and have poor work ethic currently, or idolize employment to the point of having anxiety. If I treat singleness as a transition and assume marriage, I may either indulge in overly selfish living or idolize marriage. And, as my very wise friend pointed out, this is not biblical. When the Israelites were exiled, God commanded them to put down roots in their exile. Was he going to restore them to Jerusalem? Sure. But that didn't mean they could neglect holy living in the now--they needed have homes, families, and jobs and continue to serve him from where they were. When Paul speaks of finding the secret to being content in every situation, doesn't that count even the temporary ones? Or are only the church sanctioned life stages included? And isn't it a bit absurd to discount transitions as too temporary, when even our very lives on this earth are fleeting like breath? My point is this: those of you who read this blog are maybe in a life transition, and you are maybe feeling that you're on the cusp of something greater--that you're about to enter into something exciting with God, that soon something really cool is going happen in your life. And that might be true. But I think we should all be intentional (sorry for saying "intentional") with how we treat transitions. Even if they are temporary, they shouldn't be discarded or treated like a waiting room. Don't rob yourself of the chance to live holy where you are. Like the exiled Israelites, live into your transition--you can worship God fully, and even pursue the next stage in your life without discounting the value of where you are now. Why on earth should God be restricted to only certain stages in your life? Rachel Fruit and Labor |
Archives
November 2019
|