The first night I didn’t notice. Caught up in the fun of a new place, I sprung from bed in the morning and raced downstairs, ready to start living my new life. The next night I felt something poking into my side. The morning after that I noticed a tightness in my back and neck.
A few weeks into our 5 month stay here in Weymouth I found myself living with constant back pain, unable to sleep through the night. One night I found myself in so much pain I rolled out of bed and onto the floor. Best night of sleep I’d had in a month.
At this point, it couldn’t be denied—our mattress was a dud.
Justin bought me a mattress topper for Valentine’s Day. Romantic. But no help at all.
Curious and angry, I removed the sheets and the thin mattress topper beneath the mattress topper Justin bought at the grocery store (#lockdownlife), only to discover a plaid, tired, ripped, and stained relic of the 1950s. No wonder.
What was I supposed to do? Throw out someone else’s mattress? Buy a mattress for my landlord? Do you know how expensive a mattress is?
What do you do when you’re being victimized by a bed?
I’ll tell you what I did. I suffered.
Like an idiot.
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The other day Justin and I fell into a long talk about elective suffering, not the suffering that comes from illness or generational poverty or oppression, but the suffering you choose. We’d had a friend reach out to check on us over here. He’s a good friend and we knew he was a good friend when he went ahead and said some honest things. He was angry at us for choosing this path full of suffering—angry that we were isolated due to lockdown, angry that we’d chosen a place where we couldn’t worship in person, angry that we gave up nice salaries for no salaries, angry that we were intentionally putting ourselves in the path of pain. He’d thought it through and knew we’d made an unwise choice. He asked, full of concern, “Didn’t you know it was going to be like this?”
It’s nice to be loved like that, to have friends making sure you’re not mistreating yourself.
Justin smiled as he told me about the conversation. He smiled because he knew what I knew—that we’d known and chosen anyway.
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I taught a Bible class on suffering years ago. I was neck deep in grief at the time and felt comfort when I read verses like John 16:33.
I have told you these things so that in me you may have peace. You will have suffering in this world. Be courageous! I have conquered the world.
I wondered what potential might be found in suffering, and so together my class and I read all the verses about suffering I could find:
Romans 8:16-17
The Spirit himself testifies together with our spirit that we are God’s children, and if children, also heirs—heirs of God and coheirs with Christ—if indeed we suffer with him so that we may also be glorified with him.
And 2 Corinthians 1:5
For just as the sufferings of Christ overflow to us, so also through Christ our comfort overflows.
And Philippians 1:29 and 3:8
For it has been granted to you on Christ’s behalf not only to believe in him, but also to suffer for him…
More than that, I also consider everything to be a loss in view of the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. Because of him I have suffered the loss of all things and consider them as dung, so that I may gain Christ.
We noted that Paul calls Timothy into suffering in 2 Timothy 1:18 and 2 Timothy 2:3.
So don’t be ashamed of the testimony about our Lord, or of me his prisoner. Instead, share in suffering for the gospel, relying on the power of God…
Share in suffering as a good soldier of Christ Jesus.
We saw Moses choose suffering in the Hebrews 11 recounting of his life:
By faith Moses, when he had grown up, refused to be called the son of Pharaoh’s daughter and chose to suffer with the people of God rather than to enjoy the fleeting pleasure of sin. For he considered reproach for the sake of Christ to be greater wealth than the treasures of Egypt, since he was looking ahead to the reward.
We read this in Hebrews 12:7…
Endure suffering as discipline: God is dealing with you as sons. For what son is there that a father does not discipline?
We noted that Peter uses the word “suffer” 19 times in the book of I Peter.
I looked around the room and saw my lesson sowing confusion. What were we supposed to do with all of this?
Some brave soul raised her hand and asked, “Does it count if our suffering doesn’t have anything to do with our faith?” Another woman asked, “What if I’m suffering because of my own bad choices—is that suffering still good?”
And finally, the question I’d begun to ask myself: “What if I haven’t suffered for my faith? Does that mean I’m doing something wrong?”
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I can’t, in this short essay, provide a complete theology of suffering, but I do want to say a few simple things, things I’ve learned since that class all those years ago:
God uses all suffering to discipline and shape us, suffering we choose and suffering that’s forced upon us. Grief, illness, poverty, relationship conflict, even the consequences of our own bad decisions—all of it is useful in the life of a believer.
Many of us are suffering in entirely avoidable ways.
Some of that avoidable suffering is bad. Avoid it.
Some of that avoidable suffering is good. Embrace it.
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A few important things happened this Easter weekend: First, I scheduled an appointment with a chiropractor, and I bought a budget mattress off Amazon. It came in a box, and I jumped up and down with delight as my husband dragged it up the stairs. It’s on my bed right this second. To my left as I write is the old mattress, propped up against the wall, out of harm’s way.
It took me too long to buy the mattress, because (after years of living with chronic pain and months of very frugal living) I’d decided I could bear the hurt. Eventually I realized yes, I can bear it. But I don’t have to bear it. There’s nothing noble about saving 200 bucks ($200 I have sitting in a bank account) and feeling terrible all day every day.
If I’d bought the mattress at the start maybe I wouldn’t have also needed an appointment with the chiropractor.
The other important thing on Easter: My family attended church in person for only the second time since we’ve been here. We met the very kind and joyful minister and quickly made friends. The minister has two kids, 14 and 12. We’ll all take a walk on the beach together next week. It’ll be the first time we’ve done anything or gone anywhere with another human in three months.
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A few questions:
What if church hadn’t opened up for Easter and we’d had to endure yet another Sunday apart from the saints? That’s unavoidable suffering, and we’d have welcomed it as we’ve welcomed these last three months, as a season of refinement.
What if, while struggling with isolation and loneliness, we were given the opportunity to go to church in person and we decided we’d rather stay home? That’s avoidable suffering, and it’s stupid.
What if I didn’t have the $200? What if no matter how hard I prayed God didn’t give me the money for a mattress? Well, that’s unavoidable suffering, and I’d have received it as an opportunity for discipline.
What if I did have the $200, but I felt God calling me to give it to someone suffering more intensely? That’s avoidable suffering worth embracing.
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When Jesus describes what it looks like to follow him, he invites people to pick up a cross—followers of Jesus choose to suffer for Him just as Jesus chose to suffer for them.
Sometimes that suffering looks like persecution for faith, being killed in arenas or burned as torches in an emperor’s garden. Sometimes that suffering looks like living on less money in order to help out a brother who’s struggling. Sometimes suffering looks like leaving behind your family to tell the story of the gospel in a faraway place. And sometimes suffering looks like staying in your hometown and trying to be a light to people who mistreat you.
Christians live in inconvenient, costly, counter cultural ways that draw unsympathetic (sometimes outright violent) reactions from others.
But what if I’m not suffering? you ask.
It’s worth entertaining the notion that perhaps you should be.
What are you giving up to follow Jesus? It should be something.
Who doesn’t like you because of the way you follow Jesus? It should be someone.
What hard thing are you doing that people around you think is too hard? You should be able to name a thing or two.
For a long time I thought I had to wait for suffering to happen to me. Turns out, we can choose it. We choose it by choosing to draw closer to Christ, taking on some new challenge from Him revealed in scripture (care for the orphan, forgive your father, sell all your possessions…) or following Him in some new direction revealed in prayer and meditation. We choose suffering like Jesus chose the cross, embracing suffering He had the power to avoid.
All my husband and I could say to our concerned friend when he asked “Didn’t you know?” was, “yes; we did know.” We knew it would be hard to leave friends and family. We knew we may end up in a lockdown (though we never expected it to last so long). We knew we’d have to live on less and rely on more untraditional ways of earning a living. We knew the life we were leaving was far more comfortable than the one we were heading toward.
We can’t be certain we made the right choice, but we definitelycounted the cost.
So are we masochists? Gluttons for punishment? Are we Arthur Dimmesdale in The Scarlet Letter, punishing our flesh to try and earn God’s favor? Are we trying to garner respect or admiration like the pharisees fasting, putting dirt on otherwise clean faces?
No—I’ve done that (I did it with a mattress for almost three months), but this isn’t that.
We’ve decided to embrace this small suffering as a family, because we think it’s worth it. It’s an adventure with God (a God we see everywhere these days) and an opportunity to “share in suffering for the gospel, relying on the power of God.” We want to suffer with Him so we can be glorified with Him—glorified in the life to come but also a little bit right here and now.
The Apostle Paul said he’d given everything up for Jesus, and that in the end, it was worth it; what he’d given up seemed like dung compared to Christ.
I’m not there—not all the way (I haven’t given so much up, and I can’t call what I’ve left dung). I still miss my back porch with the fire table and my car with the stereo and climate control and eating out and the sound of my friends’ children laughing and my comfortable seat on the first row in a crowded church where I belonged and was loved. Because of Christ we have suffered the loss of many things.
But what are those things compared to Christ? And isn’t it possible that the best of those things, the good things we’ve given up, are being stored away for us somewhere to be enjoyed later, later after we’ve suffered, after we’ve grown into people who’re superb at enjoying.
-JL
This week I had a reader ask “What are some Bible study workbooks you’d recommend (for those of us that have already done yours)?”
I’d love to give a list of ten, but instead I’m going to tell you the honest truth: I don’t read Bible study books almost ever. They’re just not my jam. Which is weird, I know, coming from a lady who writes Bible study books. :)
Actually, the reason I started writing Bible study workbooks was my frustration with a few Bible study workbooks—many of which seemed to distract from the text more than support it. When I finish a Bible study I want to remember what I read in the Bible. Too often I’d walk away remembering three tangentially related bottom lines and a hilarious story.
I know this is a tricky line to walk—helping readers understand and relate to the Bible while also trying to stay out of the Bible’s way. My goal is always to serve the scriptures, never to use the scriptures to serve my own message. I don’t always get it right, but I try.
I know other authors are out there trying to do the same thing, but it takes so much time to find them.
Who are they, you guys? Tell me! I mean it. Comment on this essay or reply to this email with your favorite Bible study workbook authors/book titles, and I’ll share your list in the next email. I truly believe a good guide to Bible reading is a precious gift, and I’d love a few more for myself.
Maybe you’re wondering, If you don’t use Bible study workbooks, how do you study the Bible? Here’s my routine:
I read the Bible.
I read commentaries on books of the Bible (often available online, at the library, or via a service like Scrib’d). Sometimes I just use Google.
I look up Bible words in their original language (easy to do these days thanks to a host of easy to find Bible translation websites).
I talk to wise friends about what I’m reading.
And I read books about the Bible, theology, and Christian living (just not Bible study books/workbooks per se).
Some Bible-rooted books I’m reading right now:
Eugene Peterson’s Run with the Horses: The Quest for Life at Its Best (anchored in the life of the prophet Jeremiah)
John Mark Comer’s God Has A Name (drawn from Exodus 33)
Both are interesting and challenging.
Don’t forget to send your recommendations! I’m eager to hear what you’re loving.
Coming Soon…
The summer’s workshop planning is well underway. In July and early August we’ll be traveling to a handful of locations across the south for The Storied Family! We may still have room for one or two more stops (still negotiating with a few locations), so feel free to reply to this email with your best you-should-totally-come-here pitch!
Here’s a promotional postcard I made this week (I’m clearly proud of it). :)
The website address isn’t functional yet—we’re still building things out.
More details to come later in the month. Feel free to reply to this email with questions.
See you in a fortnight!