The Good of Good Friday

I don’t know about you, but I generally do my best to avoid pain and suffering. I don’t even like the way those two words go together so smoothly… pain and suffering. Pain. Suffering. They are seemingly effortless. And unavoidable. Distasteful realities of the human condition. Realities that most of us wouldn’t wish upon our enemies.

Someone may boast a “No pain, no gain” philosophy in reply, but that speaks not of true pain, neither of true suffering but rather of a mentality of meritorious hard work. True, it may involve some degree of physical pain and even a type of suffering, but always at a level that the individual can withstand and always with the ability to make it stop. Those who extol this philosophy would likely see their pride extinguished when presented with an opportunity to truly suffer – like chronic hunger and malnutrition for a lifetime, or the sudden loss of the person closest to them, or a debilitating disease that brings a slow and agonizing death. No one chooses these things. Rather they seem to choose us – with their limitless levels of pain and no “Off” switch in sight.

It is in our DNA to avoid true pain when at all possible. Even a newborn infant expresses her displeasure at the slightest pain with the most insistent cry she can muster. And those cries continue right through old age when aches and pains manage to dominate a person’s thoughts and talk about the weather gives way to discussion of the latest and greatest analgesics.

Fifth graders know something about avoiding pain too. I observed them closely this past Sunday as we discussed the arrest and trial of Jesus in Sunday School. A few winced at the abuse and humiliation Jesus endured at the hands of the Sanhedrin – as they mocked and beat him (Mk 14:64-65; Lk 22:63-65). More recoiled at the description of the scourging Jesus would have endured prior to his crucifixion (Mt 27:26; Mk 15:15). But all eyes opened wide as their teacher produced a thorn-laden branch like those in the crown of thorns that was pressed into Jesus’ head (Mt 27:29; John 19:2). The branch made its way around the room, being passed from student to student with the utmost care. The passing student steadied the branch while the receiving student carefully selected a hold among the menacing thorns. More than twenty students handled the branch. No piercings. No bleeding. Mission accomplished.

Yet Jesus defined success very differently. Before the foundation of the world, pain and suffering figured prominently in his purpose statement. From the very moment he left heaven, they had their sights set on him. And when the crown of thorns came his way, he neither summoned ten thousand angels nor sought to find a safe hold, but rather grabbed on with both hands. His suffering and our salvation were inexorably linked. He achieved one by means of the other, grasping the thorns and his cup of suffering with both hands as they nailed him to the cross. There would be no other way.

Pierced. Bleeding. Despised. Rejected. Stricken. Afflicted. Wounded. Crushed. Cut off. Oppression. Grief. Sorrow. Judgment. “It was the will of the LORD to crush him.” (Isa 53:10).

“For all we like sheep have gone astray;
we have turned – every one – to his own way;
and the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all.” [Isa 53:6]

Mission Accomplished.

It is in the picture of Jesus’ suffering that I am reminded of the ugliness of my own sins – all of them. Sometimes we trade in ugly sins for prettier ones. Unacceptable sins for acceptable ones. And blatant sins for veiled ones. But even the prettiest of sins is a thorn in his crown. A whip on his back. A nail in his wrist.

Why do we remember Good Friday and the suffering of Christ? What is the purpose of this graphic image of pain and suffering? Why grieve ourselves by remembering it? As the Apostle Paul wrote, “godly grief produces a repentance that leads to salvation without regret.” [2Cor 7:10]

Salvation without regret. I don’t know about you, but I have enough regrets in my past – I don’t need any in my future. When I stand before Christ I long to hear the words, “Well done, good and faithful servant… Enter into the joy of your Master.” [Matt 25:21]

I pray that this Good Friday would be a reminder of the One who grabbed on with both hands because of the enormity of his love for us. It was for the joy set before him – bringing you and me back to himself – that he endured the cross (Heb 12:2). Oh, the wonders of the cross!

And I pray that we would be reminded of the ugliness of even our “pretty” sins. May the Holy Spirit unearth the sins we have quietly allowed back in. And may our sin grieve us for a godly grief that leads to repentance and salvation without regret.

Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses,
let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely,
and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us...

...looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith,
who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross,
despising the shame, and is seated
at the right hand of the throne of God." [Heb. 12:1-2]

Grab on to Jesus today. With both hands.

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If music speaks to your heart, take a few minutes to meditate on the words of this song by Sidewalk Prophets.

"Proving Grounds"

[This entry is Part Three of a three-part series entitled "Put to the Test"]

"We were so utterly burdened beyond our strength that we despaired of life itself...but that was to make us rely not on ourselves but on God who raises the dead." 2 Corinthians 1:8,9

I just have to smile when I find myself in a conversation with someone who has God all figured out. As if God fit neatly into some nice little box manufactured by human reason and logic. One of the coolest things about being in relationship with God is experiencing his unpredictability. Just when we think he is going to respond or move in one way, we find that he has done something totally unexpected.

Our move to Phoenix a few years ago falls within these lines. We assumed that God called us to move to Phoenix for reasons related to the Seminary and my training there. But as we look back, it has become apparent that God was seeking to move in my wife’s life in even more profound ways. Something we never could have guessed would happen was part of God’s plan from the beginning – and my wife will never be the same for it. When we moved, God moved, but in a way we didn’t expect.

The same can be true regarding our limited human view of the tests and trials that come about in our lives. We look at the situation we face and often reason that our faith in God would be strengthened most if God were to move in a miraculous way. We reason that deliverance out of the circumstances would be the optimum scenario for strengthening and confirming our relationship with God. This, however, is another scenario where God often operates outside of human logic.

What we find, not only in Scripture but also in the lives of seasoned Christians, is that the enduring of tests and trials allows us to experience God’s “proving grounds.” At this point you might be asking, “What are proving grounds?” The New Oxford American Dictionary defines proving grounds as “an environment that serves to demonstrate whether something, such as a theory or product, really works.”

In the automotive industry, proving grounds are designed to put vehicles through a battery of tests, often under extremely harsh conditions, to test their roadworthiness and durability. General Motors’ proving grounds contain over 130 miles of roads, giving engineers the opportunity to run cars through every conceivable driving situation – wet roads, bumpy roads, potholes, tight corners and steep descents. Throughout the process, the theories of design, as well as their implementation, are either proven or disproven. As results are observed, designs are refined and the final product continues in its advance toward the ultimate goal – perfection.

Experiencing tests and trials in our lives creates a sort of proving ground for God. Life on the open road is an opportunity to observe not only God’s faithfulness to us, but our faith in Him as well – in the midst of pain, in the midst of heartache, in the midst of loss, in the midst of disappointment.

In Paul’s second letter to the church in Corinth, he describes a situation in which he and his companions despaired even of life itself (2 Cor 1:8-11). They were at the end of their rope. It was beyond what they could handle physically and emotionally. That’s a bad situation. Perhaps you have been there. But what was Paul’s view of the situation in hindsight? He says that this happened so that they would rely not on themselves but on God, who raises the dead (that’s a powerful God to trust in). Paul’s confidence in God is increased after he experiences God’s faithfulness in the midst of the trial. Paul says, “He delivered us from such a deadly peril, and he will deliver us. On him we have set our hope that he will deliver us again.”

As, a good friend of mine once said, “Past faithfulness builds future confidence.” Paul’s confidence in the Lord was strengthened and his faith was fortified as a result of his dire circumstances. When we see that our faith has survived through the most dire of circumstances, we stand a little stronger – knowing that our faith can and will withstand the test.

Much like that car on the proving grounds, every time our faith is pushed to the limit, the Designer makes some slight modifications in His pursuit of our perfection. Our nature and character get pushed a little closer to that of our model – the faithful One, Jesus Christ.

So, the next time you find yourself in the proving grounds, look around. You’re bound to see God doing a work in you and you’ll also have an opportunity to experience his faithfulness – perhaps in a way you didn’t expect.