“My son, do not regard lightly the discipline of the Lord, nor be weary when reproved by him. For the Lord disciplines the one he loves, and chastises every son whom he receives.” It is for discipline that you have to endure. God is treating you as sons. For what son is there whom his father does not discipline? If you are left without discipline, in which all have participated, then you are illegitimate children and not sons. Besides this, we have had earthly fathers who disciplined us and we respected them. Shall we not much more be subject to the Father of spirits and live? For they disciplined us for a short time as it seemed best to them, but he disciplines us for our good, that we may share his holiness. For the moment all discipline seems painful rather than pleasant, but later it yields the peaceful fruit of righteousness to those who have been trained by it. (Hebrews 12:5-10)
This week has been difficult for me, as my chronic pain intensified to such a degree that my spirit utterly collapsed beneath its weight. As I have experienced many times before, I was brought so low that I began to despair of life itself (to use the words of Paul in 2 Cor. 1:8). When I thought of what encouragement to write to you today, I was so preoccupied with this subject of pain that I eventually determined it was God’s providence prompting me to speak a word of comfort to you who also suffer.
Of all the many relevant scriptures, Hebrews 12:5-10 is the passage that most resonated with me today. The word “discipline,” used no less than nine times in those six verses, has two meanings. While its most obvious sense here is that of correction and reproof, there is also a proactive form of discipline that God gives, not to correct wrongdoing, but to press us into the mold of Christ’s character. Both forms are what C.S. Lewis calls the “intolerable compliment,” since both are unpleasant and yet signs of God’s love for us.1
Discipline, in this second sense, can be likened to the pain of physical training. Although it hurts, we pursue it because it is necessary for good health. “All athletes are disciplined in their training. They do it to win a prize that will fade away, but we do it for an eternal prize.” (1 Cor. 9:25)
Furthermore, in John 9:2-3, Jesus reveals that not all ailments are the result of sin but are given for the purpose of revealing God’s power. Likewise, the apostle Paul was tormented by a “thorn in the flesh,” not due to unrepentant sin but, as he put it, to “keep me from becoming proud” (2 Cor. 12:7). When he asked God to deliver him from his pain (whatever the specifics of it may have been), he reached a point at which he stopped asking for its removal and received its continuation as God’s “no.” That did not represent unbelief on Paul’s part but, quite the opposite, it is a demonstration of true faith.
That sort of faith, which receives God’s “no” as from a loving father, is proof of a maturing faith because it accepts that–however it may appear to us–He always hears our prayers and always gives an answer. It is the kind of trust demonstrated by Isaac, when he laid himself upon the altar of sacrifice beneath his father’s hand. Or of Jesus, who asked His Father to let the cup of wrath pass Him by and in the same breath, “yet not my will, but yours be done.”
We should also remember that our relationship with God is dynamic, meaning it changes over time. His “no” today may be a “yes” tomorrow; it may be that His “no” turns out to have been a “not yet.” Therefore, we do not accept His answer with defeated resignation, as though succumbing to a bitter fate. But we press on joyfully, with full confidence that He has His reasons and that they are for our ultimate good. There is only forward or backward; there is no safety to be found in the complacent gutter of our own misery. If we lay down in it and deny that our pain may be useful for God’s as-yet unknown purposes, then we must submit to the alternative: that He is not who He said He is.
Unless you are willing to call God a liar, then this one truth remains: He loves you and wants your completion more than your happiness.
“We are, not metaphorically but in very truth, a divine work of art, something that God is making, and therefore something with which He will not be satisfied until it has a certain character… In the same way, it is natural for us to wish that God had designed for us a less glorious and less arduous destiny; but then we are wishing not for more love but for less.”2
If you are currently in the crucible of pain, my exhortation is not “be happy about it” but simply, “tell God about it,” choose to believe that His purposes are loving and good, and then set your expectations not on the change of your circumstances but on a (painful) change of heart. Joyful patience in affliction: few character traits are closer to the heart of Jesus. If you have been counted worthy to suffer for it, then the knowledge of growing up into Christ’s likeness will be your comfort (Matt. 5:4; Acts 5:41; 2 Cor. 12:10; James 1:2-4).
Your brother,
Ryan
1 Lewis, C.S., The Problem of Pain, 34-35.
2 Ibid, 34-35.