The Beauty of Suffering

"For just as the sufferings of Christ flow over into our lives, so also through Christ our comfort overflows" (2 Corinthians 1:5)

The wind that shakes the barley. An Irish ballad hauntingly depicting a doomed young Wexford rebel who is about to sacrifice his relationship with his beloved, to throw himself into a cauldron of violence during the 1798 rebellion in Ireland. These rebels often carried barley or oats in their pockets as provisions for when on the march. This gave rise to the somber post-rebellion phenomenon of barley growing and marking the mass unmarked graves into which slain rebels were thrown. For the Irish, this symbolised the regenerative nature of their resistance to British rule. 

Outside my window, the wind gently shakes the tips of the Silver Birches. In the silence I can hear a fly throwing itself repeatedly against the window pane. Trapped. The futility of his efforts moves me to get up to open the window. Freedom for the fly, sweet mountain breezes for me. My thoughts are guided to another man who sacrificed more than his life for more than a rebellion. The regenerative nature of this act was a gift to mankind, but then there was the question of suffering...

We have become so accustomed with images of the suffering Christ, the crown of thorns embedded on his head, slumped forward on a blood-streaked chest. Like a lamb to the slaughter, he showed no resistance, called no defence, knowing full well the content of the bitter cup that could not pass him by. Pictures and films have made his physical suffering sensational, moving us only like a front page shot of the aftermath of an earthly tragedy would.

Quite some time ago a young boy we know asked his mother why Jesus had to suffer so much, why was it all so awful, so messy and cruel? How does one explain this that even a child can understand? It seemed a challenge at the time, but as with everything else, the Word of God provides ALL our answers. At the heart of His suffering lies a surprising beauty, which I hope will leave you breathless, as it did me.

When Christ came to our world, it was as a crying infant. Born of a humble woman, through pain, into a broken world, as we all are. When he grew up, it was as a young boy who got dirty at play. Set apart from the beginning, but going through the challenges of growing up, as we all have to. When he spoke the truth about his Father and ultimately about himself, it was resisted to the point of persecution. As we will experience when we speak up for what we believe, boldly enough to shake the core of deception in this world. When he grieved it was with salty tears, when he faced hunger and pain he was moved to compassion. He was tempted, taunted and ultimately convicted (without sin or fault) to hang on a cross. Every human condition, pain, rejection and brokenness is known to him - not as a god removed, but as God that became man in every sense of the word. When we hurt, he not only cares, he knows exactly how it feels. Only He is able to take our desperate pleas up to his Father's throne and plead on our behalf.

That's not the end of the good news. When we step off this mortal coil, it is not into an abyss, into darkness. Jesus has been there for us already. We step with Him, through Him, into glory, to spend eternity with our real Father, Abba, El Shaddai. Breathless? I hope to remain wonder-struck by this truth, so that when the sufferings of Christ flow over into my life, the comfort can also overflow. This comfort is not a soft pillow to lay back against when the going gets tough, it is the everlasting, undeniable victory through Christ, ours to have and to hold, beyond death do us part.