Rejoicing In Suffering?
Sermon
Quite often I'm offered books to read, mostly religious books. They vary enormously both in quality and style, some being naive and simplistic, others being so dense that I can scarcely get through them, and yet others being intensely tedious. But just occasionally someone lends me a real gem which changes my life.
Scott Peck's "The Road Less Travelled" was one such book, which I devoured. It was one of the most exciting and enlightening books I'd ever read, and it did indeed change my life, for it gave me permission for all those thoughts I had about God which I'd assumed were heretical since they seemed so far adrift from what I'd always thought of as orthodox church teaching.
I've since read all Scott Peck's books, and still return to "The Road Less Travelled" when I feel I need to get back on the right track.
It must be nearly twenty years since I first stumbled across "The Road Less Travelled", and since then, I've not discovered any other book that came anywhere near in terms of helping me to move forward spiritually.
Not until now, that is. Somebody recently loaned me a religious book, merely saying, "I'd be interested to know what you make of this." The blurb described it as a life-changing best-seller, which isn't necessarily the best recommendation a book can have, but as soon as I started to read, I knew it was true. I was indeed reading another life-changing book.
This one is called "Conversations with God", by Neale Donald Walsch, and is exactly what the title describes. An ordinary man wrote quite an angry letter to God, asking God all sorts of difficult questions, and to his amazement, God replied. The book is a record of the conversations Neal Walsch had with God, and it makes rivetting reading. It contains all sorts of ideas which I instantly recognise at some deep level as truth, and like "The Road Less Travelled, it's changing my life by thrusting me forward, sometimes in places where I don't much want to go.
In today's epistle reading from chapter five of the letter to the Romans, St. Paul says, "... but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope." In a way, I can see what he means. It certainly seems to be true that we can grow as human beings through the suffering we personally encounter throughout life. When looking back, times of suffering also seem to be times which initiate spurts of inner growth. But the way St Paul puts it makes it sound rather pompously pious, and can it possibly be true?
Is it really possible to rejoice in our sufferings? That makes it sound as though we should be grateful for pain, but personally, I hate pain and would much rather do without it. Pain may be necessary in order to strengthen my character, and I suppose that could be construed as a good thing, but does it also imply that pain is sent by God so that we humans can grow good? That doesn't sound right at all. I have never believed that a God of love could actually send us pain, although I do believe he can use our pain to our advantage. But how would rejoicing in that pain help?
According to "Conversations with God", God says, "I am not pleased by suffering, and whoever says I am does not know me. Suffering is an unnecessary aspect of the human experience. It is not only unnecessary, it is unwise, uncomfortable, and hazardous to your health." (page 105). God goes on to say that those who are growing in spirituality recognise that suffering is not the way of God, but also understand that suffering is a sign that there is still something to learn about the way of God (page 107). So perhaps those who are truly spiritual are able to rejoice that they're learning more of God's way, and thus able to rejoice in their sufferings.
But there are difficulties in placing too much emphasis on rejoicing in suffering. One problem is that if people actually learn to enjoy suffering they can become sadists, enjoying inflicting pain on others, or masochists, enjoying inflicting increasing pain on themselves. And we've heard about the dangers of related conditions, like Munchhausen by Proxy syndrome, through which a young nurse murdered a number of children in a hospital in this country not so very long ago.
There's also the danger that organised religion will demand suffering from its followers, and then claim that suffering as good. The torture inflicted by the Inquisition in the Middle Ages, was used to "cleanse the soul" so that those who were tortured into denying their beliefs would attain the Kingdom of Heaven. And even today devout Christian followers in some countries viciously flagellate themselves at Easter and some are even crucified, in order to share in the sufferings of Christ. But since we know from elsewhere in St Paul's writings that even good works don't admit us to the Kingdom of God, it's difficult to see how self-inflicted pain can have anything whatsoever to do with God or his kingdom.
Perhaps in these words about suffering, St Paul is reassuring his readers that suffering is not a punishment from God, as had so often been thought in the old Jewish religion. Through Christ, says St Paul, things have changed. God's action through Jesus has brought us all into the right relationship with God, so that action - the resurrection of Christ after his sufferings - was a declaration of peace with human beings. Through Jesus, we're OK with God. That's the basis of our Christian hope.
But "hope" is another of those words which has subtly changed its meaning since the days of the New Testament. When St Paul writes of hope, he doesn't mean that there can be any uncertainty. So it's not a case of, "I really hope it happens like that", but more the complete joy and delight and power of life which can be experienced right now but which will be totally and utterly realised in the future. So this is the hope - eternal life - but it's not just a vague "hope" as we understand the word today, but our inheritance. We will be fully in God's kingdom, living and loving with God, after death, but we can experience a huge amount of that kingdom right now. We can live and love and talk with and listen to God in our life now. And we can do all this because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us.
God doesn't just drip a vague goodwill in our direction, but pours out his love into us. All we have to do is to receive that love, but we'll get more out of it if we learn to spot it, that is, if we learn how to hear God's responses to our prayers and communications with him. God responds in any number of ways. Through coincidence, through the Bible, through other people, through books and newspapers and television, through songs and music, through our thoughts and imagination and feelings. Be confident that what you're seeing and hearing and feeling and thinking come from God, and you'll soon learn to hear his voice. And that will quickly lead you into the rich pastures of his kingdom, for that is his promise and our hope, and he never lets us down. Never.
Scott Peck's "The Road Less Travelled" was one such book, which I devoured. It was one of the most exciting and enlightening books I'd ever read, and it did indeed change my life, for it gave me permission for all those thoughts I had about God which I'd assumed were heretical since they seemed so far adrift from what I'd always thought of as orthodox church teaching.
I've since read all Scott Peck's books, and still return to "The Road Less Travelled" when I feel I need to get back on the right track.
It must be nearly twenty years since I first stumbled across "The Road Less Travelled", and since then, I've not discovered any other book that came anywhere near in terms of helping me to move forward spiritually.
Not until now, that is. Somebody recently loaned me a religious book, merely saying, "I'd be interested to know what you make of this." The blurb described it as a life-changing best-seller, which isn't necessarily the best recommendation a book can have, but as soon as I started to read, I knew it was true. I was indeed reading another life-changing book.
This one is called "Conversations with God", by Neale Donald Walsch, and is exactly what the title describes. An ordinary man wrote quite an angry letter to God, asking God all sorts of difficult questions, and to his amazement, God replied. The book is a record of the conversations Neal Walsch had with God, and it makes rivetting reading. It contains all sorts of ideas which I instantly recognise at some deep level as truth, and like "The Road Less Travelled, it's changing my life by thrusting me forward, sometimes in places where I don't much want to go.
In today's epistle reading from chapter five of the letter to the Romans, St. Paul says, "... but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope." In a way, I can see what he means. It certainly seems to be true that we can grow as human beings through the suffering we personally encounter throughout life. When looking back, times of suffering also seem to be times which initiate spurts of inner growth. But the way St Paul puts it makes it sound rather pompously pious, and can it possibly be true?
Is it really possible to rejoice in our sufferings? That makes it sound as though we should be grateful for pain, but personally, I hate pain and would much rather do without it. Pain may be necessary in order to strengthen my character, and I suppose that could be construed as a good thing, but does it also imply that pain is sent by God so that we humans can grow good? That doesn't sound right at all. I have never believed that a God of love could actually send us pain, although I do believe he can use our pain to our advantage. But how would rejoicing in that pain help?
According to "Conversations with God", God says, "I am not pleased by suffering, and whoever says I am does not know me. Suffering is an unnecessary aspect of the human experience. It is not only unnecessary, it is unwise, uncomfortable, and hazardous to your health." (page 105). God goes on to say that those who are growing in spirituality recognise that suffering is not the way of God, but also understand that suffering is a sign that there is still something to learn about the way of God (page 107). So perhaps those who are truly spiritual are able to rejoice that they're learning more of God's way, and thus able to rejoice in their sufferings.
But there are difficulties in placing too much emphasis on rejoicing in suffering. One problem is that if people actually learn to enjoy suffering they can become sadists, enjoying inflicting pain on others, or masochists, enjoying inflicting increasing pain on themselves. And we've heard about the dangers of related conditions, like Munchhausen by Proxy syndrome, through which a young nurse murdered a number of children in a hospital in this country not so very long ago.
There's also the danger that organised religion will demand suffering from its followers, and then claim that suffering as good. The torture inflicted by the Inquisition in the Middle Ages, was used to "cleanse the soul" so that those who were tortured into denying their beliefs would attain the Kingdom of Heaven. And even today devout Christian followers in some countries viciously flagellate themselves at Easter and some are even crucified, in order to share in the sufferings of Christ. But since we know from elsewhere in St Paul's writings that even good works don't admit us to the Kingdom of God, it's difficult to see how self-inflicted pain can have anything whatsoever to do with God or his kingdom.
Perhaps in these words about suffering, St Paul is reassuring his readers that suffering is not a punishment from God, as had so often been thought in the old Jewish religion. Through Christ, says St Paul, things have changed. God's action through Jesus has brought us all into the right relationship with God, so that action - the resurrection of Christ after his sufferings - was a declaration of peace with human beings. Through Jesus, we're OK with God. That's the basis of our Christian hope.
But "hope" is another of those words which has subtly changed its meaning since the days of the New Testament. When St Paul writes of hope, he doesn't mean that there can be any uncertainty. So it's not a case of, "I really hope it happens like that", but more the complete joy and delight and power of life which can be experienced right now but which will be totally and utterly realised in the future. So this is the hope - eternal life - but it's not just a vague "hope" as we understand the word today, but our inheritance. We will be fully in God's kingdom, living and loving with God, after death, but we can experience a huge amount of that kingdom right now. We can live and love and talk with and listen to God in our life now. And we can do all this because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us.
God doesn't just drip a vague goodwill in our direction, but pours out his love into us. All we have to do is to receive that love, but we'll get more out of it if we learn to spot it, that is, if we learn how to hear God's responses to our prayers and communications with him. God responds in any number of ways. Through coincidence, through the Bible, through other people, through books and newspapers and television, through songs and music, through our thoughts and imagination and feelings. Be confident that what you're seeing and hearing and feeling and thinking come from God, and you'll soon learn to hear his voice. And that will quickly lead you into the rich pastures of his kingdom, for that is his promise and our hope, and he never lets us down. Never.
