Anyone who has engaged in spiritual warfare knows the familiar routine: the day begins innocently enough, then it all starts to happen. One thing after another goes wrong, all apparently unrelated. A unexpected bill comes in, a child gets hurt, an unpleasant phone call takes place, a family argument erupts. Or things can be even more serious. A family member is injured, a marriage is threatened, a church begins to split, a job is lost. And so we begin to ask the question, “Is it worth it?”
One desperate day Mary and Martha sent a message to Jesus: “He whom you love is ill.”
On receiving the message, Jesus made the statement that Lazarus’ illness would not end in death, but that God would be glorified through it. God has a plan and intention in everything. His plan is not tailor-made to ensure we avoid trial or distress, and this story is an illustration of that. God is not the author of evil. Trouble entered the world because of or sin, which opened the door to the source of all evil. But God takes up the web of our disaster and weaves it into something which instead brings our deliverance. He uses the materials at hand — sickness, blindness, poverty, injustice — and turns them to gold. So here God starts not with Lazarus’ healing, but with his death. Yet he is going to use that tragedy to fashion a greater triumph.
“Blessed is the one who remains steadfast under trial.” I don’t know about you, but James is one of those letters that never stops making me feel uncomfortable.
Trial is a very strong word, often translated tribulation. In the Bible it almost always refers to the troubles of this present age, not to a mysterious (and in my opinion imaginary) future event. In the midst of trial, James further tells us, we are to “count it all joy.” Somehow we are supposed to find peace in the midst of trouble. I don’t like it, but the truth is that’s usually where we grow. Why? Because that’s where we find God and dig ourselves deeper into him. The grace of God comes to us as we call upon him in our distress
Who doesn’t like the smell of bacon?
That thought took me to an interesting comment Paul made to the Corinthians. “We are the fragrance of Christ,” he said.
And that thought took me back forty years to a preaching visit a good friend of mine and I made to the Outer Hebrides islands off the west coast of Scotland, the site of the last known revival in the United Kingdom. We made a stop en route on the Isle Of Skye, and there we met with a godly Presbyterian minister, who related to us a remarkable story.
When it comes to doing church in our culture, one very strange but true observation can be made: it’s amazing how much we can do without God.
When you have access to financial resources, a decent building, good sound equipment and a preacher who can either stir the crowd up or make them feel good, you can do quite a lot without ever involving God in the process.
