Our trials are a tool that our loving Father uses to help us grow. Jesus suffered; you will too. But your suffering is purposeful. It’s evidence of his love and it’s designed to help you grow. So keep going. I never would have wanted the trail that we went through. You probably don’t want trials either. But you’re not alone. Your Savior suffered for you. Even in trials, your loving Father is at work, and he will use it for our good. Keep your eye on him. He will bring you safely home.
A few years ago, our family entered one of the most severe trials in our lives. It’s not the first time we suffered, but it was the most intense time of suffering we’ve experienced. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.
We would get the kids ready for school. When they were gone, we would sit on the couch, not knowing how we were going to get through another day. Sometimes we’d sit in silence. Sometimes we’d cry. We’d often pray, but our prayers weren’t articulate prayers. Our prayers were sometimes just simple requests for God to help us.
That period lasted about four years. God was good, we learned a lot, but it was brutal.
I’ve learned that we’re not alone. As Ray Ortlund comments on the book of Job:
I used to think that the book of Job is in the Bible because this story of suffering is so extreme, so rare and improbable and unusual. I thought the message of the book is, ‘Look at this worst case scenario. Now, come on. Surely in your comparatively small problems, you can find your way.’ I don’t think that anymore. Now I think that the book of Job is in the Bible because this story is so common.
What should we do when we face troubles like this, when it feels like we’re barely hanging on?
Some of you know what it’s like to experience extreme trials. You know what it’s like to lose a marriage, to stand at the grave of a loved one, to experience chronic illness. What do you do when you face this kind of suffering?
Hebrews is written to a church in which some had experienced intense suffering for their faith. Their particular trial was persecution for the cause of Christ, something that you and I may face too. But what he writes also applies to other kinds of suffering too.
In this passage, the writer tells us three things we can do when we face this kind of suffering.
One: Consider Jesus (12:3-4).
“Consider him who endured from sinners such hostility against himself, so that you may not grow weary or fainthearted” (12:3).
You are not alone! God the Son himself knows what it’s like to suffer. As verse 2 says, he endured the cross and despised the shame. Jesus understood what it was like to be betrayed by friends. He knew what it’s like to be unjustly accused. Jesus understood physical pain. But even beyond that, Jesus experienced a kind of pain that you and I never will. He bore the sins of all who those who call him Lord. Jesus experienced an even more intense level of pain than you and I ever will.
In fact, that’s the point verse 4 makes. “In your struggle against sin you have not yet resisted to the point of shedding your blood.” You’re suffering, but, unlike Jesus, you haven’t shed your own blood in the struggle against sin. If Jesus endured this greater trial, you and I can endure the lesser trial we’re facing.
Consider the suffering of Jesus:
He was despised and rejected by men,
a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief;
and as one from whom men hide their faces
he was despised, and we esteemed him not.
Surely he has borne our griefs
and carried our sorrows;
yet we esteemed him stricken,
smitten by God, and afflicted.
But he was pierced for our transgressions;
he was crushed for our iniquities;
upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace,
and with his wounds we are healed.
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.
(Isaiah 53:3-6)
Jesus did this for me and for you. Jesus was willing to suffer for our sake. Jesus was willing to suffer the agony of the cross so that anyone who turned to him could be free from the penalty of sin. John Stott wrote:
I could never myself believe in God, if it were not for the cross. The only God I believe in is the One Nietzsche ridiculed as ‘God on the cross.’ In the real world of pain, how could one worship a God who was immune to it? I have entered many Buddhist temples in different Asian countries and stood respectfully before the statue of the Buddha, his legs crossed, arms folded, eyes closed, the ghost of a smile playing round his mouth, a remote look on his face, detached from the agonies of the world. But each time after a while I have had to turn away. And in imagination I have turned instead to that lonely, twisted, tortured figure on the cross, nails through hands and feet, back lacerated, limbs wrenched, brow bleeding from thorn-pricks, mouth dry and intolerably thirsty, plunged in Godforsaken darkness. That is the God for me! He laid aside his immunity to pain. He entered our world of flesh and blood, tears and death. He suffered for us. Our sufferings become more manageable in the light of his.
Consider him, so “you may not grow weary or fainthearted.” When suffering, don’t lose heart. Don’t give up. You are not alone. Jesus suffered too. Consider Jesus and his sufferings. Remember his faithfulness and perseverance. Consider his willingness to suffer for you, and your sufferings may become more manageable in light of top his.
But that’s not all.
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