The Ministry of Suffering

“Look thou beyond the evening star,” she said,” Beyond the changing splendors of the dayj

Accept the pain, the weariness, the dread, — Accept and bid me stay!”

And now I look beyond the evening star, Beyond the changing splendors of the day,

Knowing the pain he sends more precious far, More beautiful than they.

Celia Thaxter.

One of the most remarkable visions of the Apocalypse shows us a throng arrayed in white robes — heaven’s most honored ones. When the question is asked, “Who are these, and whence came they?” the answer is, “These are they which came out of great tribulation.” That is, the glorified ones of heaven have been the suffering ones of earth. Suffering is a cloud whose earth-side is very black, unrelieved ofttimes by a single gleam of brightness. But here we get a glimpse of the heaven-side of the same cloud. Those who have been in sore

M 177 tribulation in this world appear in brightest glory in heaven. The sufferings through which they have passed have not destroyed them, have not marred nor defaced the beauty of their lives. Indeed, they are seen here away beyond the experiences of pain and trial, shining in robes of victory and blessedness. And this high honor is the result of the suffering of their earthly life.

Some people regard suffering as punishment for sin, and when it comes to them they ask what they have done to merit such severe treatment. Others interpret it as showing unkindness in God, and ask why, if God is their Father and loves them, he can send such trials upon them.

But the Scriptures, while they do not solve all the mystery of suffering, show us that it is no accident in God’s world, but is one of God’s messengers, which, if received in humility and faith, will always leave a blessing. Our Lord once bade his disciples consider the lilies how they grew. Where do the lilies get their beauty? Down in the darkness of the soil the roots lie, hidden, despised, amid clods; but there they prepare the loveliness and the sweetness which make the lilies so admired as they press up into the air. Is it not so with the fairest

178 things of life, with the sweetest things of experience? Are not many of them born down in the darkness of sorrow, suffering or pain? Many a life which we admire, whose gentleness, purity and sweetness are benedictions to the world, got these lovely things in a sick-room or in experiences of suffering.

This is the great truth that lies in this Apocalyptic picture. The happy saints, with their white robes and their palms, had come out of great tribulation; and the tribulation had helped to give them their radiant garments and their glad joy. We may say, then, that the design of God, in all the afflictions which come upon his people, is to make them better, to promote their purification of character, to prepare them for the inheritance of the saints in light.

The word tribulation is suggestive. It comes from a word which means a flail. The thresher uses the flail to beat and bruise the wheat sheaves, that he may separate the golden grain from the chaff and straw. Tribulation is God’s threshing — not to destroy us, but to get what is good, heavenly and spiritual in us separated from what is wrong, earthly and fleshly. Nothing less than blows of pain will do this. The evil clings so to the good, the golden wheat of goodness in us is so wrapt up in the strong chaff of the old

179 life, that only the heavy flail of suffering can produce the separation.

Not all sufferings hang crape on doors. The family circle may not be broken by bereavement, and yet there may be tribulation crashing deep into the heart. There are people who wear no garb or sign of mourning who yet are really mourners. There are those who carry pain at their hearts continually, in the brightest sunshine, when they seem gayest and happiest, because of things in those nearest and dearest to them, which weigh upon them like a cruel cross. Then, not all the sufferings that visit the soul come from without; indeed, the worst grief is that which the evil of our own hearts has caused. To a tender spirit nothing gives so much pain as its own sins and failures. We grieve when we have to lay a friend away in the grave; but we ought to grieve far more when some sin has defiled our conscience and hung a new veil between our soul and God. In the earnest Christian life, there are no tears so bitter as those that are shed in the soul’s agonies, as it strives after holiness.

There is no truth taught more clearly than that perfection of character can be reached only through suffering. We can never get away from our old self, and grow up into purity, strength

180 and nobleness, without pain. The fires of passion and iniquity which are in our old nature cannot be burnt out without agony. Holiness cannot be reached without cost. Those who would gain the lofty heights must climb the cold, rough steeps that lead to them. It is God’s design in all the pain he sends us to make us better. His fires mean purification. His prunings mean more fruitfulness. In whatever form the suffering comes — as bereavement, as sin or shame in a friend, or as penitence and contrition over one’s own faults — the purpose of pain is merciful. God is saving us in all our life in this world; and suffering is one of the chief agents he employs. The redeemed in heaven have come out of great tribulation. But for the tribulation they would never have worn the white robes nor borne the palms.

Jesus gave us as one of his beatitudes, “Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted.” It is worth while to notice where this beatitude stands. “Blessed are the poor in spirit.” “Blessed are the meek.” “Blessed are the peacemakers.” “Blessed are the merciful.” “Blessed are the pure in heart.” Then, in the heart of this cluster, “Blessed are they that mourn.” We do not question the blessedness of humility, of meekness, of the peacemaking spirit, of purity

181 of heart, of mercifulness; and mourning is set by the Master in the same cluster. Heaven’s radiant light shines about Christian sorrow, just as about purity of heart, mercifulness, or spiritual hunger. Yet the blessing lies, not in the sorrow, but in the comfort. “Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted.” God’s comfort is such a rich blessing, that it is worth while to have sorrow that we may have the comfort. This picture in the Apocalypse, from the heavenly side, helps us to understand our Lord’s beatitude. Those who have mourned on earth will wear the whitest robes in the glory of heaven.

St. Paul, too, speaks of the blessed ministry of suffering. “We glory in tribulations, also, knowing that tribulation worketh patience, and patience experience, and experience hope.” That is, tribulation works out in us qualities of Christian character which cannot be developed in human gladness. In the Epistle to the Hebrews, the doctrine of suffering is put in this way: “All chastening seemeth for the present to be not joyous, but grievous; yet afterward it yieldeth peaceable fruit unto them that have been exercised thereby, even the fruit of righteousness.” Pain is God’s pruning-knife; it cuts deeply, ofttimes, and seems to destroy; but

182 the result is greater fruitfulness. Suffering is God’s furnace fire. Its hot flames burn as if to work utter destruction; but afterwards the gold that before was dim and impure shines in dazzling brightness.

“God never would send you the darkness If he felt you could bear the light 5 But you would not cling to his guiding hand

If the way were always bright 5 And you would not care to walk by faith Could you always walk by sight.

So he sends you the blinding darkness, And the furnace of seven-fold heat.

‘Tis the only way — believe me — To keep you close to his feet —

For ’tis always so easy to wander

When our lives are glad and sweet.”

We have all known Christian sufferers who have grown into rare, sweet beauty as they have suffered. They have lost their earthliness and have learned heavenliness. Pride has given way to humility. Impatience has become sweet patience. The harsh music has grown soft and gentle. The rough marble has taken the shape of graceful beauty. It is true, as a rule, that the noblest, richest, purest, most beautiful lives in this world have been lives of suffering. There are elements of loveliness in the depths of every

183 life which only the fires of pain can bring out. The photographer carries his picture into a darkened room to develop it. God often takes his children into the chamber of pain and draws the curtains, while he there brings out the features of his own image which before had been only dim and shadowy outlines.

But our lesson is not yet complete. Not all afflictions make people better. Not all who suffer are made thereby more meet for heaven. Tribulation does not always work patience. Chastening does not always, even afterward, yield the peaceable fruit of righteousness. We have all seen people suffering who only became more impatient, irritable, ill-tempered, selfish and cold, as they suffered. Many a life loses all the beauty it ever had in the furnace of affliction. There are dangerous shoals skirting the deeps of affliction, and many frail barques are wrecked in the darkness. In no experience of life have most persons more need of wise friendship and firm, loving guidance than in their times of trouble.

It is not said in the Revelation that tribulation itself made the robes of the saints white. Tribulation is the instrument, the hand that washes; but it is the blood of the Redeemer that makes the garments shine so radiantly.

That is, those who suffered were united to Christ as branches in a vine, and in all their sufferings were nourished by his life.

We should learn well how to meet and endure trial so as to get from it the ministry of good and of blessing which God means it to work in us. We must make sure for one thing that we are truly in Christ. Two trees stood side by side, one early spring. Both of them were bare. The sun poured down his warm beams upon them both, and the clouds emptied their rain upon them. Soon one of them was covered with bursting buds and then with rich foliage; but the other was still bare as ever. One of the trees had life and the other had no life. Where there was life the sun and the rain called out rich beauty; where there was no life the effect of the sun and rain was to make the tree even more dreary and desolate than before. Where there is spiritual life in a soul, afflictions call it out until it glows in every feature. Where there is no Christ in the heart, afflictions only make the life wither.

Then to get the intended benefit of the ministry of pain, we must receive it as God’s messenger. Once in the days of old, three strangers came to a good man’s tent as wayfaring men. He courteously opened his doors to them and

185 hospitably entertained them. It turned out that two of the men were angels and the third was the Lord himself. They brought their entertainer messages from God, and then departed, leaving benedictions in his home. We imagine that all angels wear radiant dress and come with smiling face and gentle voice. Thus artists paint them. But truly they come ofttimes in very sombre garb. One writes:

All God’s angels come to us disguised, — Sorrow and sickness, poverty and death, One after other lift their frowning masks, And we behold the seraph’s face beneath, All radiant with glory and the calm Of having looked upon the face of God.

We should receive sorrow always reverently, with welcome, as God’s messenger. We should accept its message, even in our pain, as a word from God himself. No messenger of pain ever comes without a blessing in its hot hand for us. If we welcome it as coming in the name of the Lord, it will leave benedictions. Mrs. Gilchrist says of Mary Lamb, ‘-’ She had a life-long sorrow, and learned to find its companionship not bitter.” It is possible so to acquiesce in God’s will when it brings pain or grief, that all our life shall be enriched and blessed through the suffering.

To get the benefit of the ministry of suffering we must seek true comfort. Most people have very imperfect ideas regarding this matter of comfort. They suppose that if they can cease to weep and resume again their old familiar course of life, they are comforted. They think only of getting through the trial, and not of getting anything of good or blessing out of it. But the real problem in enduring pain is not to bear it bravely, without wincing; to pass through it patiently and even rejoicingly; but to get from it new strength for life, new purity of soul, new revealings of God’s face, more of the love of Christ in our heart, and fresh grace for obedience and duty. We ought to get something good out of every experience of pain, some new victory over sin, some fresh impulse for service.

When we have passed through a season of suffering and stand beyond it, there ought to be a new light in our eye, a new glow in our face, a new gentleness in our touch, a new sweetness in our voice, a new hope in our heart, and a new consecration in our life. We ought not to stay in the shadows of sorrow, but should come again to the place of service and duty. We ought not to permit our tears to flow too long, but should turn our grief quickly into new

187 channels of loving devotion and active usefulness. When we come again, after our time of sorrow or pain, our face should shine as did the face of Moses when he came down from the mount. The comfort that God gives puts deep new joy into the heart and anoints the mourner with a new baptism of love and power. We must be sure to get true comfort when we are in tribulation, for then our tribulation will help to fit us for the glory of heaven.

In the vision of the Apocalypse we see earth’s mourners beyond all their tribulation. Suffering is not to last always. If we are Christ’s disciples we are going through it — we must go through it to reach heaven. Glory lies beyond the veil of sorrow, and we must go through the dark stream to reach it. But it is only a narrow stream, and soon we shall have crossed it and shall be beyond it forever. In the wonderful shepherd psalm we read of passing through the valley of shadows. The shepherd leads his flock through the gloomy vale to reach pasture and shelter on the other side. Beyond our sorrows we shall find blessedness. The pain of earth will be forgotten in the joy of heaven, and the joy of heaven will be richer and sweeter because of earth’s pain.