In too much of the church today there seems to be an idea that we who follow Jesus should never have to truly suffer because Christ suffered on our behalf. Even among those who recognize that God never promised any such thing, the idea of actually rejoicing in being allowed to share in Christ’s suffering sounds like something out of the Middle Ages. But what, then, are we to make of passages of Scripture like this:
Dear friends, do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal that has come on you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice inasmuch as you participate in the sufferings of Christ, so that you may be overjoyed when his glory is revealed. If you are insulted because of the name of Christ, you are blessed, for the Spirit of glory and of God rests on you (1 Peter 4:12-14).
Peter is saying here I should consider myself blessed when people insult and attack me for belonging to Jesus. It’s a good thing! And, admittedly, it does make some sense. It is only when I am insulted that I have the chance to bless those who insult me. It is only when I am the victim of evil that I am able to return good for evil. And it is only to the extent that I have enemies who persecute me that I am able to love my enemies and pray for those who persecute me, as Jesus taught (Matthew 5:44).
This is rejoicing in my suffering because it advances God’s kingdom (Philippians 1:12-18), and I wrote about that in a previous article. In this article, I want to discuss a slightly different aspect of suffering, one that Paul addresses in 2 Timothy:
You then, my son, be strong in the grace that is in Christ Jesus. And the things you have heard me say in the presence of many witnesses entrust to reliable people who will also be qualified to teach others. Join with me in suffering, like a good soldier of Christ Jesus. No one serving as a soldier gets entangled in civilian affairs, but rather tries to please his commanding officer (2 Timothy 2:1-4).
To set the stage, the very first thing Paul tells Timothy in this passage is to “be strong in the grace that is in Christ Jesus.” Being strong in grace is an interesting turn of phrase. Most other English translation say the same thing, although the ESV translates the same phrase as, “be strengthened by the grace,” which I think makes it a little more understandable. Timothy obviously can’t control how strongly God’s grace works in him; that’s the Holy Spirit’s doing. But he can receive (or, by implication, fail to reveive) the strength that, by God’s grace, is given to him.
I notice that there’s no “if it’s God’s will” here. Paul has no doubt that the strength is there, if Timothy will avail himself of it. But it’s not just Timothy who is being addressed here. This is the Holy Spirit’s word to every follower of Jesus who is being pressured to compromise, or remain silent, or flee from the task God has given them.
The suffering comes two sentences later, when Paul adds, “Join with me in suffering,” and compares Timothy to a good soldier. Soldiers of Paul’s era marched long distances carrying heavy packs, they slept outside on the ground, they constructed fortifications with hand tools, only to abandon those fortifications when they marched away, and above all that, they risked injury or death in battle. Much of what they had to endure, however, was not the hardship of combat, but the hardship of getting into position; making sure they were in the right place at the right time to engage the enemy. They were, in other words, a lot like the soldiers (at least the infantry soldiers) of any era. And soldiers of any era can not afford to get entangled in civilian affairs – the Greek word here is emplekō, which Vine’s defines as, “to weave in, hence, metaphorically, to be involved, entangled in.” The word is also used in 2 Peter 2:20:
If they have escaped the corruption of the world by knowing our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ and are again entangled in it and are overcome, they are worse off at the end than they were at the beginning.
Being entangled in civilian matters is directly contrasted with suffering. So Paul is telling Timothy to keep his focus on Christ and on his work for the kingdom. This may involve physical hardships, as it certainly did for Paul, and it absolutely requires Timothy to separate himself socially from some parts of his culture, even if doing so makes him stand out and become a target. He’s a soldier serving a king, which means he is not living his life for himself, but for his sovereign. The modern term is “deployable,” and it means that a soldier is ready, on short notice, to go wherever in the world their duty takes them. A soldier who is not deployable is not very useful.
I also am a soldier serving that same king. My life does not belong to me, but to God (1 Corinthians 6:19-20). Suffering as a soldier does not mean I am to neglect my own health and well-being, however. On the contrary, I have a responsibility to maintain myself in condition to serve. In any military service, the welfare of the troops is the second highest priority, second only to success of the mission (and having healthy, strong troops vitally contributes to that success). But it is second to successfully completing the mission. A good soldier undergoes hardship and danger, and even accepts the risk of being maimed or killed, because that’s what it takes to get the job done.
Paul goes on to give Timothy two further metaphors:
Similarly, anyone who competes as an athlete does not receive the victor’s crown except by competing according to the rules. The hardworking farmer should be the first to receive a share of the crops. Reflect on what I am saying, for the Lord will give you insight into all this (2 Timothy 2:5-7).
Timothy is like a good soldier, who is like a prize-winning athlete, who is like a hardworking farmer.
Athletes must follow the rules of the competition in order to win. This is similar, according to Paul, to a good soldier, who does not get entangled in civilian affairs. Neither a soldier nor an athlete, if they are wise, will disqualify themselves by losing focus on what they are supposed to be doing. A soldier has to be deployable; free from other entanglements so that they can be sent where they are needed. An athlete needs to follow instructions, to compete in the right way. The common element is focus. I have to reject anything that might get in the way of succeeding at the tasks I’ve been given.
And in the third metaphor, the hardworking farmer is the one who deserves the first fruits of the harvest. The emphasis is on the hard work, not on owning a farm. Like the solder and the athlete, the farmer keeps his focus on his task and receives his just reward.
All three of these illustrations tie back to Paul’s instructions to Timothy to be strengthened by God’s grace, to pass on the legacy he has been entrusted with, and to be willing to suffer.
I think the word that best sums up all this is wholehearted. Paul is telling Timothy to give everything he has to protecting and passing on what he has learned. Not to be distracted by other matters, or to try and take improper shortcuts, or to get lazy, but to focus on completing the task he’s been given.
This wholehearted focus feeds into what James wrote:
Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything (James 1:2-4).
It’s a fundamental principle of the universe God established that we get better at the things we practice. Why would we think it’s strange that the same principle applies to character? What if, in every circumstance, good or bad, I were to ask, “what virtue, or personality or character trait does this situation give me the opportunity to practice?” and then give my attention to practicing that? That would certainly get me closer considering it pure joy to face trials.
So, does this describe me? Do I rejoice when God gives me the opportunity to practice perseverance? Am I thankful for that? I have to admit that, far too often, the answer is now. But it really comes down to a matter of perspective. If I see trials as something bad that I have to endure, it’s going to be hard not to complain. If I see them as training exercises, and look past the hard parts to see what they’re supposed to develop in me, I’ll be better able to have the attitude James talks about.
Trials are a gift from God. I should be thankful that he is training me by giving me opportunities to practice the character traits he wants to develop in me. Traits that, when I stop to think about them, I also want to develop. I mean, if I seriously want to be more patient, or more loving, or more faithful, then whenever I have the chance to practice being patient or loving or faithful, shouldn’t I take advantage of it? How can I say I want to become more like Christ, if I run away from every opportunity to become more like Christ? Put this way it’s a no-brainer (But unfortunately, I still sometimes act like I have no brain.)
I’m not saying, however, that the only reason I ever face tough situations is to develop my character, and if you look closely, Paul and James didn’t say that either. There could be many reasons why something unpleasant is happening to me. The fact is, it doesn’t matter why the trial comes; I can still use it as an opportunity to practice being more like Jesus. But attitude matters. I can’t practice being like Jesus while I’m feeling sorry for myself and grumbling about my circumstances. Nor can I do it if I’m focused on fear of what might happen next.
Jesus never promised that those who follow him would not have to suffer. Just the opposite in fact; he told his disciples:
I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world (John 16:33).
Much of what we, in the modern world, count as suffering, is pretty trivial. A slow car in front of us when we’re in a hurry, for example. But some of it is overwhelming. Even in 21st century America there is still sickness and injury. There is violent crime. There is heartbreak. There is death. In every case, what Christ promises is not escape from troubles, but peace within troubles. The peace that comes from knowing, first, that we are at war, and second, that our final victory is already certain. That’s why Paul can write:
I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us (Romans 8:18).
In keeping with this view of suffering, I want to leave each of you reading this with two challenges. The first is, the next time you find yourself facing hardship, difficulty and, yes, suffering, remember the war. In particular, I’d like to challenge you to consider the possibility that, rather than your circumstances being an attack by our enemy, the situation might be tough because God is moving you into the right place to launch an attack on our enemy. Not the hardship of battle, but the hardship of moving into position for the battle. Obviously, that’s not always going to be the case. There is no single explanation for suffering that’s always going to be the case. But I suspect that if we knew everything that was going on, we’d find that it is the case more often than we realize.
The second challenge is to not ask why you are suffering, but ask instead how Jesus wants you to respond to the specific situation you’re facing. And then ask the Holy Spirit to help you do it.