Suffering and Celebration in the Kingdom of God

Foot of the Cross, Don Wolf

The following is a sermon I gave this Sunday in a small town in Western Montana.  It was my first sermon.

The tension between suffering and celebration in the days before Easter is something that I’m just becoming familiar with myself.  I’ve suffered and I’ve celebrated, but how do I hold the two together?  What I’ve found in my prayer and reading over the past couple of weeks is that it all comes together in this question: Why do we call Good Friday, the day that Jesus hung on a cross, “good”?

I’m going to be working from Philippians 3:4b-14:

 If anyone else thinks he has reason for confidence in the flesh, I have more: circumcised on the eighth day, of the people of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew of Hebrews; as to the law, a Pharisee; as to zeal, a persecutor of the church; as to righteousness under the law, blameless. But whatever gain I had, I counted as loss for the sake of Christ. Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith—that I may know him and the power of his resurrection, and may share his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, that by any means possible I may attain the resurrection from the dead. 

Not that I have already obtained this or am already perfect, but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own. Brothers, I do not consider that I have made it my own. But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus. (Philippians 3:4-14 ESV)

Paul begins by discussing those things which, in the eyes of his culture, qualify him for righteousness before God.  He’s the perfect Jew.  He says that he had become blameless in the law’s righteousness.  But then he says that all these things, everything that those around him consider qualifications for good standing before God, are actually detrimental.  In light of his knowledge of this King Jesus, all that he once considered as qualifications for right standing in the presence of God have become the very things which hinder him.  He’s pointing out the trap of self-righteousness.  He sees that the sin which separates us most from God as pride in our own merit.  We do this all the time.  We say we trust Jesus for our goodness, but when it comes right down to it we want to be accepted for what we do.  How can someone possibly trust Jesus for her identity if she’s finding her worth in her own qualifications?

He recognizes all things as detrimental not just for humility’s sake.  He does so in order that he might instead gain Jesus’ qualifications for right standing before God, and in order that he might be found in Him.  So that he can stand justly before God not from his own zeal and faithfulness but from his being united with the faithfulness of Christ—and this comes by faith.  Look at verses 8-10 again:

“For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith—that I may know him and the power of his resurrection, and may share his sufferings, becoming like him in his death…”

Faith, he says, has as its intended result, (1) knowing Jesus, (2) knowing the powerful ability of His bodily resurrection and (3) sharing in his afflictions.

When we think of faith we usually mean the first two—knowing Jesus and the power of his resurrection.  But what about that strange third one, sharing in his afflictions?  How does faith intentionally result in the sharing of the afflictions of Jesus?

First, I think it’s really important to point out a distinction in English that isn’t there in the Greek.  In English we have a word for faith and a word for faithfulness.  In Greek they are the same.  In Greek when “faith,” pistis, is present, so is faithfulness.  Jesus and Paul didn’t talk about belief without also talking about action.  True faith and faithful action cannot be separated.

So when Paul says that “faith” results in sharing the afflictions of Christ, it is helpful to remember that, in Paul’s mind, along with faith as belief comes faithfulness as action.  In this faith and faithfulness Paul says he is formed together in the death of Jesus, and this formation in death is the mechanism that allows entry into His resurrection.  One must die in order to be raised again.  So, again, How does faith lead to the sharing of the afflictions of Jesus?

Our life-giving knowledge of Christ and the power of his resurrection, the belief part, naturally leads to our sharing in his affliction, the action part.  In order to celebrate with Jesus we must suffer with him, and in order to suffer with Him we must celebrate with him.  Let me try to explain what I mean.  See, if we aren’t catching the heart knowledge, trusting and experiencing the goodness of union with Jesus, then we won’t celebrate it.  And if we aren’t celebrating in this way, we won’t suffer by being so struck by the brokenness of the world.  Depression wouldn’t be so bad if we didn’t know what joy was like.  Much of the suffering of Christ resulted from his full knowledge of the goodness of a relationship with his Father.  See, he loved his creation, he loved the people that he saw and spoke with, and it completely broke his heart that they were rejecting him. Because He knew that in their rejection they were losing the best thing about being human—experiencing, and thus celebrating, the love of the God who created beauty and love and justice.  A major part of Jesus’ suffering was—and is—seeing his beloved reject the gift of his love and his death on their behalf.

One of the hardest things for parents who know their God is watching their children reject Him.  Just ask a loving mother about the suffering of watching her son reject the God of love and life and mercy and, in exchange, struggle in self-doubt and fear and bitterness, chasing in vain after love and acceptance in women or drugs or worldly success.  But this suffering only comes when we catch ourselves both celebrating the victory of Jesus and feeling compassion on those who don’t know that victory.  So, we can only suffer when we know how to celebrate.

Another way Jesus suffered, perhaps the more obvious way, was in his physical suffering and in being mocked because of who he was.  He claimed to come as God and King to rescue the wicked, and for that claim he was mocked and beaten and killed.  We share in this suffering when we’re derided or persecuted for the sake of our faith in Jesus.  People will laugh at us when we claim that Jesus was bodily raised from the dead.  People will criticize us or get angry when we say that Jesus is the one true God, and the only one. But, once again, we can only know this suffering when we celebrate.  Because if we aren’t celebrating who God is, if we aren’t celebrating what happened on Good Friday and Easter Sunday, we definitely won’t be risking ridicule and rejection by telling unbelieving people about Him.

So if we celebrate the wonder of the resurrection and the power of being reconciled to God, we’ll suffer.  Because we’ll see our loved ones rejecting the gift, and we’ll be mocked when we share.  And if we don’t suffer, it’s probably a good sign that we aren’t celebrating.

Celebration in the Kingdom of God is directly related to the suffering of Jesus, which, like I’ve said, also becomes our suffering.  We call Good Friday “good” because it was on that day that our sins were washed away and death finally died.  And this was proved by the resurrection, when life came alive, snatched from death when all seemed darkest.  Tim Keller put it really well, he said “Jesus Christ is our great captain.  He’s opened a cleft in the pitiless walls of the world—he’s punched a hole through that concrete slab between life as it is and life as it ought to be, between the ideal and the real.  And now, because of the resurrection—the resurrection proves that the cross was not a defeat but a triumph.  It proves that Jesus made satisfaction for sins, it proves that now God can come into your life, it proves that Jesus can come into your life because he’s alive.”  And all this celebration is made possible because of initial suffering.  In the same way, when we allow ourselves to suffer for Christ, we are joined in the celebration of His resurrection.

After Paul talks about faith, (1) knowing Jesus, (2) knowing the powerful ability of His bodily resurrection and (3) sharing in his afflictions, he says that he is pressing forward toward the victory wreath of the high calling of God.  “Not that I have already attained it,” he says, “but I press on, forgetting the former things and reaching for what is ahead.”  He’s writing to the Philippians to encourage them to continue on in their celebration and thus their suffering.  They, and we, need encouragement because this Christian life is hard.  It would be much easier to accept the way the world is and drift listlessly along through life with cynicism and shallow laughter.  It would be much easier for that mother to watch her son flounder in the world if she rejected the hope of a better life for him through Jesus’ resurrection.  It’s way easier to avoid telling people about Jesus, thus avoiding the criticism and rejection that naturally follows.  But if we do this we also avoid the gift of the resurrection.  If we avoid the suffering we avoid the joy, and life becomes quite boring.

Tiffany and I have been to Kenya a few times on mission trips.  Each time we’re there for about 2 months.  And it is hard.  There is a lot of suffering in East Africa.  But that great suffering makes room for great joy.  Every time I’ve come home from Kenya I exhale and relax, but if I sink into the day to day routine, life quickly becomes boring and I find myself sapped of joy.  Because with suffering comes joy.

We won’t be able to truly celebrate Easter unless we’re allowing ourselves to experience Good Friday, suffering for our King whose victory we celebrate on Easter.  But we won’t be able to put ourselves on the line for our King in the suffering of Good Friday unless we trust his goodness toward us.  So that’s where we must start.  Everyday when we wake up we must recognize that no matter what may come, God is for us and there is nothing to fear.  We must, with Paul, count all our qualifications as detriments and look to Jesus for his righteousness.  “A righteousness from God that depends on faith.”  We must put our trust in the one who makes the dead live again and who creates beauty from nothing.  The Christian life holds suffering and celebration in a beautiful tension.  And God, by his Spirit, gives us the emotional strength to hold that tension.  He’s given us a spirit of powerful ability, of selfless love and of self-control and when we trust him he takes away our fear.  And he’s given us a community to stand together in solidarity.  When we suffer together, we rejoice together.

The celebration of communion is a perfect representation of our holding suffering and celebration in tension.  It’s a wonderful place to start trusting His goodness again.  We celebrate the suffering of Jesus and we rejoice that we can offer ourselves as sufferers for the sake of the King of love and justice.  We remember that he died the death that should have been ours, so that we can live in joy and peace in the life that was rightfully his to keep, and is now his to freely give.  We center back on how good it is to be a part of the Kingdom of God, we put our full weight on His crucifixion so that we’re also lifted in His resurrection.  And when we fail, He is still faithful.  He is still true.  He still reigns.