Some Birds Sing in Winter: Finding Joy in the Depths of Affliction

By Thomas Harley

It seems most peculiar; yes, rather strange That a bird, on a bitter branch might remain And more joyfully in winter months, long, Sing an elaborate, even a beautiful song. But such a bird is this one who can write, Who can attest that even though dark as night, His maker has given him a songbook of praise, To endure as a joyful sound, all days that remain.

What you are holding is a songbook. It is a different kind of songbook, for it was birthed in the darkest of night and the coldest of winter. And while it is readily in itself an instrument of praise, it also provides a foundation for other song-makers, or, shall we say, those who receive songs from God Most High. For who can sing unless God himself provides song?

This is a book for sufferers. It is for those who are enduring affliction or those who just have air filling their lungs from time to time (recognizing that all will invariably suffer). This is a book for those with questions. It is for those who wonder what God (if there is one) is doing as they sit on a branch that scrapes them endlessly with rough and bitter bark. The branch is aflame, crumbling underneath, and ready to give way. How can we find song in such a tormenting and uncertain darkness? How can we be as the rare bird who actually finds reason for song in winter?

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Aug 26, 2013
• ISBN: 9781490806297

Thomas Harley

Thomas Harley is a writer and poet – and is passionate about sharing the love of Christ with others. A graduate of Knox Theological Seminary in Fort Lauderdale, his work for an international ministry has taken him to more than fifty nations. He is the author of Some Birds Sing in Winter.

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Copyright © 2013 Thomas Harley.

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Scripture quotations are from The Holy Bible, English Standard Version® (ESV®), copyright © 2001 by Crossway, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Cover Art © 2012 by Beth Lockhart. Used by permission.

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ISBN: 978-1-4908-0630-3 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4908-0631-0 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4908-0629-7 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013915308

WestBow Press rev. date: 08/23/2013

Contents

INTRODUCTION SINGING IN WINTER

CHAPTER ONE A PAINFUL CONDITION

CHAPTER TWO OUR GOD

CHAPTER THREE WHY DO AFFLICTIONS COME?

CHAPTER FOUR CAN WE TRUST WHEN WE DON’T UNDERSTAND?

CHAPTER FIVE WHEN WILL DELIVERANCE COME?

CHAPTER SIX WHEN JOY BREAKS THROUGH

CHAPTER SEVEN HOW LONG, O LORD, UNTIL YOU AVENGE MY CAUSE?

CHAPTER EIGHT LIVING IN COMMUNITY

CHAPTER NINE PRAYER

CHAPTER TEN FASTING

CHAPTER ELEVEN THE WORD

CHAPTER TWELVE COMPELLED TO PRAISE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN THANKSGIVING

CHAPTER FOURTEEN TELLING WHAT HE HAS DONE FOR ME

CHAPTER FIFTEEN COMFORTED SO THAT WE CAN COMFORT OTHERS

AFTERWORD RIGHTEOUS ACTS

APPENDIX A RECOMMENDED RESOURCES

APPENDIX B BIBLE READING PLAN

APPENDIX C HIS RIGHTEOUS ACTS REVEALED

APPENDIX D A TREASURE IN A BROKEN JAR

BIBLIOGRAPHY

ENDNOTES

Every bird can sing in spring,

but some birds will sing in the dead of winter

THOMAS WATSON

To Those

God Has Encompassed

Around Me

In My Own Winters

Especially My Family At

Riverside Christian Fellowship

North Lauderdale, Florida

"The righteous will surround me,

for you will deal bountifully with me."

Psalm 142:7

DEAR READER

M ay God receive all praise, for he has carried me through the depths of affliction! He has brought me into a joy that is truly settled in the high places; a joy that is not crushed under the pressing weight of my afflictions—one that is stirred up as by a much greater wind.

I write with a weak mind and a frail hand. If the words that follow are beneficial to your soul, bless the Lord for his grace upon these feeble efforts. I have no great or original wisdom to offer—as if anything of that sort could flow from me. All that is wise herein is from him. All that is error is entirely of my own devising.

I cannot counsel you in your own particular circumstances. And I recognize that regularly (rather, usually) this is what is needed. It is more useful than simple generalities. Yet, while I recognize that this book may fail in that respect (and come to a certain and deafening limit), there is one who just simply is. He has no beginning and no end. He who is the Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace is more than capable of supporting you, though your trials are many and your grief is at times unbearable.¹ He will make truth properly and rightly applicable to your unique circumstances.

I write simply as one who has benefited greatly at the feet of his Savior; who is still sitting helplessly at his feet. With each breath that comes (to this very day), I require a new and fresh measure of his grace and strong support. I need his grace more than I need each breath. I wait each day for him to give me his grace anew, even as the Israelites received manna in the wilderness. Just as they received a sufficient portion for the day, and rested on a firm and certain hope that it would be given again for tomorrow—so do I. For stored grace is spoiled grace. I need a new portion each day. And he has provided, and is providing.

I may yet be far from possessing my eternal home fully (or, I may be closer than I think—for only the Lord knows my hour). But, this I do know. I am still afar from understanding my present and coming afflictions aright. I am still in the school that is affliction. What I have learned thus far, though, I offer up to you. As school is in session still, I trust by the time you have this in your hands, many more lessons (perhaps more painfully than those already undertaken) will have been taught under this rod. I may need to correct some of my earlier folly (what you may find herein).

I offer in the coming pages what I have come to know through this furnace. They are ultimately personal truths, meaning not that they are without objective truth (for I undertake to understand God’s Word through it all; the only way we can come to know truth)—but, rather, that they are personally obtained, often through pain, and now personally attested. They are lived truths. None of them have been obtained cheaply.

I don’t believe it is helpful (at least I didn’t find it helpful) to receive instruction from the sidelines. Rather, I needed to hear from those who were in the game, as it were. I needed to hear from those who had lived through affliction, and yet lived. I needed to know that others had even found reason to rejoice therein. I needed to hear from others entrusted with the hard-won curriculum.

If God has enrolled you in this university, I trust I can give you a guided tour of the campus and some of the cold and barren classrooms. I can give you an overview of the curriculum, and an encouragement from the man at the worn desk next to yours that the headmaster is not in this to fail you. Yet, he will also accept nothing less than to teach you fully. This is his care for you. Take it that way.

I will then need to set you much on your own way, for teaching in this school is really only done personally, and through experience. There are no short-cuts. Yet, you are not the only student here. So come back often for refreshment, and to hear what he has taught others, and how faithful a teacher our headmaster in this school has been. Come prepared to share your own learning, and we shall grow together in this school, and in this fellowship of the suffering.

Though this book is minor and is but a small effort (and though it is sorely lacking in many numerous ways), I offer it up with humble expectation that the Lord of all (the headmaster of this school) will make the words yet mighty through his own wise counsel and greater (still unfolding) purpose.

Soli deo Gloria; to God alone be the Glory!

O God, you are my God;

earnestly I seek you;

my soul thirsts for you;

my flesh faints for you,

as in a dry and weary land

where there is no water.

. . . for you have been my help,

and in the shadow of your wings

I will sing for joy.

Psalm 63:1, 7

Yours is the day,

yours also is the night;

you have established

the heavenly lights and the sun.

You have fixed

all the boundaries of the earth;

you have made summer and winter.

Psalm 74:17

INTRODUCTION

SINGING IN WINTER

I remember the beginnings of spring from the earliest years of my youth. Having patiently (or not so patiently) endured the desperate months of bitter cold and the wretched, lingering cover of darkness, the signs of imminent and glowing (shimmering, even) life thrust into the open, and descended gloriously upon us. Finally spring was upon us!

Flowers started to bloom, and sprout from the ground with new vigor. Each year it seemed a bit more vibrant and forceful than the previous. The buds on the trees began to take form with a fresh newness and fragrance that could (from all appearances) flood an entire valley. It was a surprisingly sweet and pleasant aroma that (it seemed to me at the time), would endure forever. Indeed, spring was surely the time to rejoice and sing exuberantly, with expectations about what was already upon us and what was imminently to be. I don’t recall sorrow in the spring. Even if it came, it was quickly overshadowed and consumed by the more prominent and fitting joys.

In fact, the number of birds singing seemed to multiply exponentially in the spring. And what displays greater joy than this? I saw many more birds in spring than in the brisk of winter, when birds are as scarce as the warmth of the noonday sun and as distant as the planets of other galaxies (that you know of only by reading books).

Yet what if there came about a great reversal and winter came upon winter or spring gave way to winter—and seemingly forever? All the bearing through the winter which the hopeful expectancy of spring made, well, bearable would soon be null and purposeless amidst the barren wasteland of dreams forgotten and hearts wrecked. A sinking hopelessness (as with a ship that is forced under by a strong arm) would reside where expectation once inhabited. We would be confronted by a grave tragedy under a seemingly adverse deity. Would we ever see the large number of joyfully and similarly tuned birds again? Would they forsake all their delightful tunes if winter became the new normal? They might sing in another land, but they certainly would not return here—not to my own. Why would they? How could anyone bear to live in such a land?

Could this be a reflection of what happens similarly to us throughout our lives? Some winters appear to be without end, as if the spring will never come. And experience tells us that (for some, at least) the spring really never does come. I read a report of a young man who was so depressed that he took his own life. He seemed to have everything in life (money and fame), but could not live. His winter was too cold and dark. The birds were no longer there to serenade him (if ever they really were). He was all alone (even as all eyes were upon him). Perhaps you are also very much alone as you read this. Perhaps a blistery winter is upon you, and the frigid ice has consumed every comfort you have ever known.

What shall we do when we are stuck in such a winter? We might look to what has comforted us before. Perhaps it is our child, spouse, or dear friend, and now one or all are gone. A painful blow strikes. We would go for a quiet stroll, but now we can only do that when accompanied by a prison guard. Strike again! We would take some time to get our business in order, but now that the bank has taken all from us or others have stolen it by unjust gain, there is nothing to turn to. Strike! I feel like I am out of this game (and that is precisely how it feels—like some cruel game).

How can I continue? Why should I continue? These are topics that we will discuss in the coming pages. We will also discuss joy. Joy? Remember that in winter, there are always some birds that remain in song even as the others hide themselves. Even as the frigid air displaces many, they sit faithfully. You may think this is all ‘for the birds.’ But I trust you won’t put down this book (or your hope) too quickly. When is it better to read and reflect than before a blazing fireplace on a cold, wintry evening? My hope is that this is what you hold now—a surrounding and pursuing fire, bringing the light and warmth of Scripture to your cold and forsaken circumstances.

Surely it is a rare trait for one to sing joyfully in the winter or deep sorrow of life, even as it is equally uncommon for most birds to sing outside of the warm seasons; for them to sing dutifully and with a certain heartfelt joy in the depths of winter, in the bitter and frigid cold. Most will migrate to another land. They will not sing through the winter.² Others, like hibernating bears, will choose to burrow into the earth for the season. They do not sing joyfully, or at all—but snooze, or cower under the heartless blows. Still others give in altogether, either through bringing about a premature death or refusing to live (a death to the world and/or their forsaken hopes and dreams).

Yet some will sit dutifully on their dry and barren nests, and sing as if they knew no greater joy than the present turmoil. Some sing more beautifully when all around them is crushed and their spirits are strangled and ruthlessly torn than when all is livened in comfort and green with life. Suffering, death, the depth and darkness of winter, and the uncertainty of when and if it might end, seem to have no effect on them. These things may even have a positive effect on them. And they sing exuberantly (and with loud voice) their new songs of great joy and thanksgiving.

What could these birds possibly be thankful for? It is not that their circumstances are pleasant, that they have lost little, or that what they no longer possess was unimportant and inconsequential. No, that is not it. Rather, they sing because they have made an exchange for something better, more permanent, more precious, of greater worth, and lovelier. They sing because they see something brighter than the dim, flickering, and fleeting light of the present world. They have a light within that shines brighter than the light that has been vanquished without. Not even death can remove this permanent (eternal) light from their frame, try as it might.³

The book you hold is a product of my own afflictions. It was conceived and birthed in the flames—in the sharp cutting of winter. Take what setting you wish—it was in the midst of deep and lonely pain. Much as a bird on a cold and dull branch, I sat for lengthy seasons in a forgotten and forsaken wasteland. In this place, the frigid wind did nothing less than whip through the feathers, cutting to the layers of flesh below—not to provide the nourishment or refreshment of air, but to torture the heart and torment the spirit with the severest of frigid blows. What purpose is there in this wind that slices and dashes against my weak flesh? I was left exposed, raw, and helpless.

Yes, it has been at many times a cold winter, and the winters just seem to get colder. But, in these winters this bird learned to sing. And what a beautiful and wonderful song it is! Charles Spurgeon wrote,

Any man can sing during the day. When the cup is full, man draws inspiration from it. When money is in plentiful supply, any man can praise the God who provides an abundant harvest or sends home a loaded ship. It is easy enough for a tuneful harp to whisper music when the winds blow; the difficulty is for the music to carry when no wind is stirring. It is easy to sing when we can read the notes by daylight; but it takes a skillful singer whose song springs forth when there is not a ray of light to read by. No man can make a song in the night by himself; he may attempt it, but he will find that a song in the night must be divinely inspired. Let everything go well, I can weave songs, fashioning them from the flowers that grow upon my path; but put me in a desert, where no green thing grows, and with what shall I frame a hymn of praise to God? How shall a mortal man make a crown for the Lord without jewels? Let this voice be clear and this body full of health, and I can sing God’s praise: Silence my tongue, put me on a bed of suffering, and how will I then chant God’s high praises, unless He Himself provides the song? No, it is not in man’s power to sing when everything is against him, unless an alter-coal shall touch his lip. It was a divine song from Habakkuk that filled the night when he sang, ‘Though the fig tree should not blossom, nor fruit be on the vines, the produce of the olive fail and the fields yield no food, the flock be cut off from the fold and there be no herd in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the LORD; I will take joy in the God of my salvation.’ So, since our Maker gives ‘songs in the night,’ let us wait upon Him for the music. Chief musician, let us not remain songless because we face affliction, but tune our lips to the melody of thanksgiving."⁴

What you hold is my lament, praise, and expression of comfort and thanksgiving. I have not been without song, because a coal has been placed upon my lips. This is my songbook. These are my songs in the night. I will set forth to share what God has taught me in my darkest winters and loneliest nights. It is true that joy comes in the morning—I have tasted it!⁵ But there is no need (if it were possible) to wait until the morning. A vision of the coming joy can sustain and comfort through the dark night of weeping. Spring is the right time to find this vision, and attain this sure foundation. If you are there, keep reading for the sake of future need. If you are already in need, there is no more critical time to find the fountain of joy as you stroll through the darkened valley. You can find vision, though the darkness surrounds you, and though you can no longer see your own way.⁶

May we join together in united song on whatever is left of our nests, and from whatever is left of ourselves. May we give exuberant praise to the one to whom it is due—our only Lord Jesus.

If you cannot do this yet, wait upon him with me. Drink the water that I have drunk, for it is life-giving and plentiful. I pray you will be blessed and changed in your reading of these pages, and may song be birthed in your heart, even as it has been in mine.

My Cold and Faceless Winter

I still remember the feeling! Much like being lost in a darkened crevice, with rocks surrounding me as an unbreakable (and binding) fortress; even like this the waters surrounded me and squeezed me unmercifully as to break my bones, piece by piece, fragile limb by fragile limb. I was not being put to death (yet!), but I was very much kept alive in a cruel twist, by a faceless and cold being, who was surely laughing amidst my exhausting struggle.

I grew up in rural Pennsylvania, just outside of Pittsburgh. I was raised in farm country, and yes, that is about all the life and experience I knew to that point. Now I found myself in southern Florida, having just relocated. And I was at the beach with some new friends. It was one of my first times at the beach ever (remember, I grew up far from the beach), and I was swimming in the ocean, seemingly deep in the ocean, and I was in terrible trouble. I knew that much.

I didn’t know anything really about rip currents. Honestly, at that time, I didn’t even know the word. That education was to come immediately later (you will soon understand why). But, I did know that I was being pulled by a force mightier than I had ever known before; even as a mighty wind—so I was being pulled out to sea. I would never be heard from again, shark bait for sure! I fought. But I found the more I fought, the more I was losing—of my strength and breath; but more so, of my hope.

I gave up. I was surrounded, and had no hope to beat this foe, so I simply relented to the waves. I gave in. I couldn’t even get enough footing or strength to call out to someone to help me. So no one else knew the terrible trouble I was in. I was all alone, painfully and completely alone. I was in the midst of nothingness. I was dejected and forlorn, seemingly forgotten and unnoticed. I was very much afraid.

I remember being surrounded by the ocean to the point that I felt crushed like empty aluminum cans in a vice; nothing inside remaining to fight against the relentless force. With each turn of the vice, I was being twisted and crushed by a merciless foe. I don’t know how long I was in that situation, but I do know that it seemed like hours. Or perhaps it was many days. I simply remember sinking despairingly to the bottom of the ocean, and feeling the soft sand within my fingers. These were my last feelings in this life, so I thought. All I could do was pray, and come to my final peace.

I was in the rip current, and the next moment, I was swept out to the shoreline. Now, many explanations can be given for how I was naturally swept to the shore once I relaxed and stopped struggling and fighting (though, I do believe it was God’s work). But, I would simply ask you to not miss the point that this story is intended to illustrate.

I was completely consumed and I was without hope. I have not been able to forget this experience and the strong emotions that were its companions. Nor will I ever forget. Even to this day, I sometimes feel crushed in shallow water if the emotions and feelings from that time resurface (if they are triggered in some, often unidentifiable, way). I can be sitting in a swimming pool, and feel surrounded and desperate, even as those around me are playfully distracted (not noticing that everything is falling apart—at least it is for me). I cannot escape how helpless, hopeless, lonely, and completely forsaken I felt in that moment of my life. That was obviously not to be the most crushing event in my life’s story. It is a story, however, to help us visualize the turmoil that we may face in our deepest and coldest winters.

There are seasons in life when we are greatly pressed and severely tormented, whether by our own failings or by others who inflict harm and pain upon us. My story just shows us how, when feelings resurface, they are relived to a degree, even as a broken record through a worn needle. It is often painstakingly terrible, and it may be insurmountably and forever endless. Will these feelings ever really leave me? Will the pain of the winter just behind and those now pressing in as a relentless foe ever cease? Our winters (and the creep of winters past) can vex us as terrible adversaries. But, they can also (as I have mentioned) stir us up to sing an array of new songs in the night.

I have many questions and these are often my cries to the Lord through my own winters; they being a terrible terror to my soul. I am not the first to have pressed my case in such a way. Consider these that follow, all taken from the Scriptures. O, LORD, how long shall I cry for help, and you will not hear?⁷ Look to the right and see: there is none who takes notice of me; no refuge remains to me; no one cares for my soul.⁸ But I, O LORD, cry to you; in the morning my prayer comes before you. O LORD, why do you cast my soul away? Why do you hide your face from me?⁹ How long, O LORD? Will you be angry forever? Will your jealousy burn like fire?¹⁰ Will you not revive us again, that your people may rejoice in you?¹¹ All in vain have I kept my heart clean and washed my hands in innocence. For all the day long I have been stricken and rebuked every morning.¹² In the day of my trouble I seek the Lord; in the night my hand is stretched out without wearying; my soul refuses to be comforted.¹³ I have also regularly felt as one who cries and whose voice goes unheard—as one crushed beneath the seas of misery and given over to unrelenting desperation. Perhaps that is where you are today. Perhaps that is where you have been for many long and lonely days.

The Lord has graciously met with me these years—even on my barren, often lonely, and ugly nest. He has given me song. Here is a precious promise I have held onto: I will be found by you, declares the LORD.¹⁴ I have found him in my winter. I may have lost much of late, but I am at no loss now that I have more of him. I am not any worse for my trials. This, however, must not be a testimony about me, as though I were strong enough, intelligent enough, wise enough, compassionate enough, or generous enough to endure such trials as I have before or will soon endure. Let me assure you that I am not capable, and anyone who knows me can vouch for this. This is a testimony, rather, of what God has done for me, and what he can do for all who seek him. You will find him, if you will seek him. Draw near to him and he will draw near to you.¹⁵

If you happen to find yourself in a place of confusion, brokenness, or even unrelenting and unforgiving pain, I trust you can also come to a place of joyful and pleasant song. Or you can find an eager hand, to write your own praise, much like what Samuel Rutherford wrote:

Yet for all my Lord’s glooms, I find Him sweet, gracious, loving, kind; and I want both pen and words to set forth the fairness, beauty, and sweetness of Christ’s love, and the honour of this cross of Christ, which is glorious to me, though the world thinketh shame thereof.¹⁶

May my pen (or computer, in this case) show you a glorious display of the loveliness of my Christ; how sweet and kind he is. My great desire is that you would taste what I have tasted, and see the sweetness thereof: yes, even the sweetness of Jesus! If you can say that you have seen Jesus (and not me) herein, then I consider this work well accomplished, and I will rest satisfied.¹⁷ I entreat you to come with me as we sing a song of the Lord together.

A Necessary Pause

My care for you, dear reader, requires that I make a necessary (indeed, critical) pause in our present discussion. I would serve you poorly (tragically so!) if you read these pages with any undue (or false) comfort. And I would also serve you poorly should you leave without comfort that is yours in Christ.

In the pages that follow, we will be discussing the favor of God that is extended toward his battered and forlorn children. We will consider the comfort that we can and should possess as we go through trials of various kinds. This is our promise. It is a right based upon standing, for all of those who are his own. But this promise is only for his children. If you are not his child, this promise is not for you—not yet anyway. While you may, and should, benefit from much of what is written herein, you will not benefit fully, nor will you benefit eternally.

Please do not succumb to weariness on this point: as if you have discovered a precious treasure only to realize (or now be told) that you have no part in the bounty thereof. There is a greater treasure than your comforts, a greater treasure than a tender hand that remains with you during times of affliction, a greater treasure than a Father’s soft shoulder and listening ear. Here you may discover a treasure, only to realize it is greater than you ever suspected or could have imagined—that it has greater joys hidden than currently revealed, as it were. You may be looking for answers or seeking advice for your present problems. Or you may be seeking a simple place to wallow in your present miseries or to express your gloom. This may have drawn you to initially pick up this book. Yet, here you may discover the joy of becoming a child of God. And this is the first and the greatest treasure.¹⁸

What does it mean to be a child of God? How can I become one? These are questions some of you may have. Please allow me to start at the beginning of everything. I will quickly yet carefully summarize.

There is one true God. He is not a God that needs anything. He doesn’t live in temples made by human hands, nor does he need anything from us. For, it is God himself who gives to all mankind life and breath and everything.¹⁹ Yet, he is also not very far from each one of us. He is high above us, yet personal; sovereign over all, but not removed (of this we will discuss further in a later chapter).

God created everything that was created. And this includes mankind. All of creation makes this same declaration. The heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky above proclaims his handiwork.²⁰ All he made was perfect at the very beginning—he declared it all to be very good. But, Adam, who was the first man created, disobeyed God. He did not keep God’s commandments (or laws). Not all was perfect, or good, with the world anymore. Sin had entered the world, and so did death.

God is righteous and holy. He is of purer eyes than to see evil and cannot look at wrong.²¹ So he could not allow sin (basically a violation or transgression of his law) to go without a just punishment. Here is the problem. Adam, as the first of our race, acted as representative for all of us—even for those who were yet unborn at the time, like you and me. This representation is much like a king who would represent his nation’s interests in signing a treaty, which affects the entire history and status of the nation and its peoples. But, with Adam it was even more so. It was much grander and more extensive than a national treaty. This one represented all peoples for all time. This being so, when we are born, we are already at enmity with God in our standing. But we are also corrupted, and sinful in ourselves. We are under the curse of judgment, and as we grow, we only grow in our rebellion against our Creator.

We are his sworn enemies. We are rebels to his will and violators of his law. We don’t love God. We exalt ourselves and we shun him. We have placed ourselves at the center of the universe.²² If you don’t think you are (or were) an enemy of God, let me ask you: Do you honor him as God? Do you love him with all your heart, soul, and mind? Do you have an undivided heart for him? Have you given yourself fully over to him? Do you perfectly fulfill his law? And do you love others as yourself?²³

If you answer positively to this, Jesus may have another command for you—one tailored to you just as he did to a certain rich young man.²⁴ We all refuse to submit our will to his, and to bend the stubborn knee. Paul tells us that all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.²⁵ Also, None is righteous, no, not one.²⁶ There are none who seek after God.²⁷ R.C. Sproul writes that we are at war with Him unless or until we are justified. Only the justified person can be comfortable in the presence of a holy God.²⁸ We cannot be comfortable in his presence until we are no longer his enemy.

Our hands and hearts are dirtier and filthier than the dirt on the floor, and we have polluted all of creation.²⁹ Look around—this world is not as it was created to be. Your present affliction should make that much painfully plain. There is nothing inherently good or pleasing within us. We are deserving of judgment and death.³⁰ Of greater severity than your present affliction is your besetting sin! A judgment is coming so that every mouth may be stopped, and the whole world may be held accountable to God.³¹ This judgment is not simply a distance from God, but an active judgment—where the wrath of God is poured out, day and night.³² Judgment needed to be poured out, and it needed to be poured out on the guilty. Do we really deserve anything but even greater suffering than we know presently?

But, that is not where the story ends! Stay with me for but a moment more for the good news. God, according to his merciful purposes toward us, provided a substitute to stand in our place—to take on this judgment reserved for us. Another was sent to take our place, and this other was God’s own Son, Jesus. Jesus is part of the triune Godhead, being God himself—God in three persons: the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Jesus humbled himself, and he took upon himself human likeness; being born of a virgin, Mary (thereby not bring polluted by Adam’s corruption). He became poor for our sakes.³³ Jesus was the pure and unblemished sacrifice needed to pay the punishment that was due for our sins. He was the coming Savior of the world. He was the promised Messiah.

Jesus perfectly fulfilled all of his Father’s laws without blemish. He positively fulfilled what Adam was to have done (and what he did not do). Yet blood was required for the sins of men. In order to redeem us, someone had to pay with their very life, as a sacrifice.³⁴ Blood had to be shed. And it was Jesus who paid the penalty for our sins on a cross, at the hands of men. He effectively settled God’s wrath, and broke the bondage of sin and its strong arm upon us through his death. The son of God, Jesus, died there on a cross. But, on the third day he was resurrected from the grave. This is the assurance that our sins have been paid in full—that the debt he paid has been completely (and forever) paid in full. Nothing more is required. Nothing was left to keep him there in the grave.³⁵ Now we look for Jesus to return, and to establish a new heaven and a new earth, where He will wipe away every tear from [our] eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning nor crying nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.³⁶

Jesus now extends to us the forgiveness of sins, to all those who will call upon him alone for salvation from their sins and guilt. For everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.³⁷ He is the only way to have our sins forgiven: Jesus said… ’I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.’³⁸ God cannot be reached, nor can our sins be atoned for, in any other way—be it religious devotion, church attendance, our comparable goodness, or through any other gospel or religious order.³⁹ We must repent and believe the Gospel.⁴⁰ There is only one way to be right with God.

The judge, God himself, will now declare us righteous—if we will take no other representative into the courtroom of heaven with us, but Jesus alone. We are not yet righteous in ourselves, though now we become progressively more so. But he who the judge sees on trial is righteous for he sees Jesus Christ, our new representative—a righteousness imputed to (or declared over) us. We can now have peace with God. The enmity is cast away. Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ.⁴¹ This is good news! Indeed, it is the best of news! Blessed is the one whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered, David writes.⁴² He proclaims that God surrounds him with shouts of deliverance, and for good reason—all sins are washed away; the burden that would break us is now lifted. The hand that was heavy upon us is now secured firmly onto the cross, and was satisfied with Christ’s sacrifice for us. God himself delights in delivering us from the wrath to come. He rejoices that we have been redeemed. And he surrounds us with his joy.

Further than this, he extends adoption to all who believe—to become sons and daughters of the living God.⁴³ We are not just free from death and eternal wrath; but we gain an inheritance and full rights as sons. We become fellow heirs with Christ.⁴⁴ We are now a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for his own possession.⁴⁵ Now we are set apart for his purpose (this is what holy means). And we have a new heart (we delight in him, love him, and align our will with his own, and we seek to please and follow him—we will speak more to that in the coming pages).⁴⁶

Once we are sons of God, we can know that God is for us. We can exclaim, If God is for us, who can be against us?⁴⁷ Here is our confidence: that the eternal Creator of all, rather than holding his wrath over us, now upholds us with his tender hand of mercy and steadfast love.⁴⁸ He, who was against us, now through the forgiveness of sins paid for in Jesus, is for us! And since he is for us (and he is greater than all), we can sing in our deepest winters. My intent is to walk you through how this is possible—but again, if this first treasure is not secured in your bosom, there is no other treasure of any permanence to be obtained at this well. God certainly will not be mocked. He will not extend the comforts of sonship, if you will not accept his own son: beaten, bruised, and hanging on a tree—a sore sight, but life to those who believe.⁴⁹ For the word of the cross is folly to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.⁵⁰

A Necessary Point of Clarification

This good news seems straightforward enough, but we often confuse it, or, more accurately, try to contribute to it. If we contribute our good works to it in some way (in any way), we can claim some of the glory in our salvation. But we also necessarily pollute and nullify the redemptive work.

John Bunyan illustrated this well in Pilgrim’s Progress. Christian (the main character) stops by to see Interpreter on his journey to Zion. He is told that Interpreter will help him understand certain important things that will aid him on his quest. Interpreter then leads Christian to a parlor that was never swept. Christian reviews the room for a while, certainly trying to determine what he was going to learn from such a room as this (being that he had just learned from another, private, room).

Interpreter gives instruction to a man nearby to sweep the dusty floor. Remember that this room had never been swept. And the dust starts flying—everywhere! Christian is overcome by the dust, even to the point of choking. A girl is then given instruction to sprinkle the room with water first, and then to go ahead and sweep. This she did with pleasure.

The dust illustrates original sin, and the sweeping of it portrays the effectiveness of the law (or our keeping thereof) in cleansing us of it; in removing it. Though the law discovers and forbids sin, it really only revives, strengthens, and increases it. Just as dust, sin spreads all the worse and nearly chokes us when we attempt to use the law (or our good works) to extricate it.

But, when the Gospel comes (which is illustrated by the water) it is effective in its working. This is to show that when the Gospel comes in sweet and precious influences to the heart, just as you saw the girl keep the dust down by sprinkling the floor with water, so sin is vanquished and subdued.⁵¹ The law, or our fulfillment of its requirements, cannot help us. For all who rely on works of the law are under a curse, Paul writes.⁵² Why? It is because we are unable to fulfill what it requires.

We are not good enough. We cannot contribute to our salvation. We cannot establish our own righteousness.⁵³ The good news is that Jesus Christ did it all. He paid the penalty in full. And we did nothing to contribute but to add to our condemnation with our many sins. When we come, all we bring is corruption. When we go, all we leave with is forgiveness and a righteousness that is not our own. Truly it is a gift received by faith alone through grace alone. If you start to work toward it yourself, you but stir the dust and choke your soul in its pollution; and death will be upon you still.

Objections to God

Suffering is sometimes the first (and, from the critic’s mind, the lethal) argument against the very existence (or possibility) of God. So, I recognize that you might have read everything up until now, and still have an unbeliever’s swagger. Or, perhaps you are a believer in Jesus who is struggling in light of all that is happening to you. This is not what you signed up for. Maybe you are just being bombarded with questions. How can you possibly still believe in God?

Let me provide a framework for this question here, and each page that follows will seek to complete the answer in more satisfactory terms. Really, every page following will argue how we can respond to our afflictions and loss in a way in which they are managed, lived with, and lived through in a way that honors God.⁵⁴ This necessarily brings an argument for God to the forefront on everything. How can God exist with all the evil and suffering in this world? One encounters with horror as a small child is brutally and endlessly abused on an abandoned street, and you are left to wonder: Where is God in all of this? If he really exists, why doesn’t he present himself and bring swift justice? Here is the question before us.

First, the question itself assumes that there is evil in the world, and if there is evil, necessarily it follows that there must be something that is non-evil (namely, good). If you are sure that this natural world is unjust and filled with evil, you are assuming the reality of some extra-natural (or supernatural) standard by which to make your judgment, Tim Keller writes.⁵⁵ A man does not call a line crooked, C.S. Lewis observes, unless he has some idea of a straight line. What was I comparing this universe with when I called it unjust?⁵⁶

This being so, how do we know what is evil and what is good? How do we derive at this objective standard (the other, ideal, world—a creator or judge) that this present world is compared against? If we determine what is evil based on our feelings, then what if I feel that it is okay to rob you at this moment? To me, it is not evil because I need the money, and quite frankly, I don’t think that you do. And, by the way, I just think you should be poor and I should be rich. Or, I think you have more than you need, and I don’t have enough. But, I don’t really need to justify why I think it is right to take your money. I just feel it is right. Is that not enough?

If we grant then that there is a good and an evil, and that it must be outside of you and me, then there must be some objective lawgiver. Culture, or the vote of the majority, or of the politically strong among us doesn’t settle this, because in some cultures, it is okay to eat other people, and in ours it is not last time I checked. Why is ours right, and why is theirs wrong (since they are based on the same standard of justice—the majority vote)? It cannot be governments then. Governments just enforce the standard already existing from elsewhere. For what are they more than a more complicated and often convoluted group of you and me? What are they but a larger number of the same? No, there must be a lawgiver that is outside of us or any group of us, one who is ‘other’ than us, or there is no good and evil. And if there is no evil in the world, then the question and our pain is irrelevant, and we are deluded in thinking there is something wrong when we experience pain or loss.

If there is a God, however, then we have a difficult question to contend with: How can God (whoever he is) seemingly stand by as evil and suffering afflict us and our world? Rather than suffering disproving the existence of God, it actually proves his existence. But, it also must change the question. Now we have our question stated plainly, and it is this question we will contend with in the pages and chapters that follow—in explaining what God has revealed about himself, about our suffering, and about what he requires of us in response. If you are a skeptic (and not a believer in Jesus Christ at this moment), I believe what follows will provide understanding (at the very least) of a Biblical perspective on suffering.

My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?

Why are you so far from saving me,

from the words of my groaning?

O my God, I cry by day, but you do not answer,

and by night, but I find no rest.

Psalm 22:1-2

I can’t feel anything below my neck,

but I can sure feel this ache in my heart,

like a spear going right through me.

Sometimes I wish that part of me

was paralyzed too.

Joni Eareckson Tada⁵⁷

CHAPTER ONE

A PAINFUL CONDITION

S everal words may be used to describe these cold and dark winters: affliction, suffering, pain, loss, grief, sorrow, and so on. Given the many words used to describe such a condition, we could (and likely should) expect to encounter some difficulty in getting to the meaning of our topic and their intended expression. The words are as many and they are as full as the emotions and conditions they seek to convey. Throughout history, men have been trying to express the darkness of our surroundings and the pains of our own heart’s inner turmoil. This transcends culture and it transcends time. It is immune to none. Though language may need to surround it with many words, it takes but a prick from its hand by experience to define it through an event or a feeling.

Let us consider that the darkness may arrive upon us by many different avenues or pathways. Sometimes it may come as a result of our own well doing. We may make decisions that bring on real elements of loss, which might be expected or unexpected, such as going off to college or moving away for a new job. I may go through a period of loneliness or remorse over now-distant relationships, but it was a decision I made that really caused this. It likely isn’t an immoral decision, but it still brings about troubled emotions. It is important to recognize this reality, though we are going to spend less time there.

We also may experience circumstances that are consequences of our sins. If I violate the laws of God, I should expect some form of retribution or consequence. If I am in jail from stealing or have a disease from casual sex, the affliction of that condition correlates to my own actions. We will also spend time on that. However, for our present purposes, we will spend more time on those losses or hurts that come upon us without a direct correlation to our decisions or actions. These hurts are perhaps the most confusing and troubling, for these are the ones we seem to have no control over whatsoever. We could not have stopped them. They were done to us, either by people or nature. God could have stopped it. Why didn’t he? Generally it is these that cause the greater turmoil within because they are the more perplexing; and they appear purposeless.

Lastly, let’s consider that no matter the circumstance, our winters can create a lasting impression upon the heart. Even when the situation has passed, the heart remains changed forever by that dark hour. Just as I mentioned the recurring torment of the ocean surrounding me—and how it continues still—so the heart continues to beat in line with the affliction. J.I. Packer defines grief as the experiential, emotional fruit of the bereavement event— . . . a state of desolation and isolation, of alternating apathy and agony, of inner emptiness, and exhaustion.⁵⁸ I like this definition. For, indeed, grief empties us within, and brings us to a place of exhaustion. Hearts are not easily comforted—and those in the midst of afflictions are generally not very well understood in their raw-ness. Let’s consider that now—what do these plights look like? What does an afflicted heart, a grieving heart, look like?

Common Misunderstandings

A suffering condition is often as disturbing and confusing as it is painful. Job speaks of it as the anguish of my spirit and the bitterness of my soul.⁵⁹ David said he was in distress and was wasted from grief.⁶⁰ The depth of this despair must not be discounted, and we must not offer trite, simple answers to complex problems of the heart and life. One of the commonest ways to deal with another’s suffering, Eugene Peterson writes, is to make light of it, to gloss over it, to attempt shortcuts through it. Because it is so painful, we try to get to the other side quickly.⁶¹

Job’s counselors certainly appear guilty of not being sympathetic to these pains. As we consider these counselors, we must recognize that we have the benefit of knowing God’s larger purpose (at least more than Job did). If we did not have this knowledge, perhaps we would be like them. I would argue, almost certainly we would be (and are) like them. Though Job’s standing before the Lord was righteous, his counselors were quick to judge him as being in the wrong, and they were slow to display grace.⁶² They certainly had not understood, and they hastily concluded as to the reasons for his great afflictions. David experienced the same from his companions, writing, I looked for pity, but there was none, and for comforters, but I found none.⁶³ We must not try to get to the other side too quickly.

Let us not address this topic casually or callously in some vain attempt to ease the discomfort we feel around those who are in a state of (perhaps extreme) suffering. It is common for people to become uneasy around those that suffer; and rather than being the needed comforters, we can often increase the depth, or inflict a higher level, of pain. Peterson is right