The Art of Suffering

Awkward? Just a bit. Francis Chan, the keynote speaker at the Exponential Church Plant Conference just resigned from his church days earlier. Yes, awkward. And everyone wanted to know the exact same thing. Why?

First, he quoted Amos 6:1. "Woe to you who are complacent in Zion, and to you who feel secure on Mount Samaria, you notable men of the foremost nation, to whom the people of Israel come."

Then he began to share the thing that was most stirring in his heart. The thought, the coming moment when each one of us will fall before God while He looks down upon us and says, "Well Done, my good and faithful servant".

Along with probably everyone else in the room, I'm still waiting for the answer. Why? Why walk away from sixteen years of leading a growing and successful church? Why walk away from a position of worldwide influence? Why now?

His answer didn't resonate with me until I returned home from the conference. I have to credit my 3 year old little girl for actually helping daddy see what Francis was trying to say. His answer - a lack of Suffering.

A lack of suffering? Anti-prosperity gospel?

Do we have to suffer to hear God say, "Well Done"?

The night I returned home, after having been away from my daughter for almost a week, the revelation of suffering captivated my heart. And it came most unexpected.

The night before we left Orlando for home, while getting ready for bed, I was moving a large industrial sized fan into the doorway of our bedroom to create the kind of white noise that helps Katie and I sleep well. To my dismay, the large, round, sharp, heavy base wasn't very well attached. And, at the most inappropriate time, most likely when the base was at the highest elevation possible above my bare and naked foot, it dismantled and dropped - right on my big toe. I'm still amazed at how well our bodies can respond to pain when inflicted on such a tiny extremity. It hurt. Bad.

After walking in the door and being greeted by my 3 year old, I felt it necessary to take off my shoes and socks and give my newly black and blue and bloodied big toe a bit of refreshing air. Morgan said she wanted to see what was underneath the bandaid. So I thought, sweet, she'll love this. Doesn't every kid love the sight of a big black bloodied toe? Um, NO!

She was mortified. She grabbed hold of me and wouldn't let go. She wept and wept and wept almost like I have never seen her weep before. She was shaken at the core. I was a bit surprised actually. She was in turmoil. She kept saying over and over, "Daddy, I don't want you to have a boo-boo". And no matter how much I tried to convince her that daddy was okay and that my boo-boo didn't hurt (even though it most definitely did), her concern only seemed to worsen.

All throughout the night, while reading a bed time book with mom, while enjoying a fun episode of Dora the Explorer with dad, she would look at me with an exaggerated quivering lip and pouty face and say, "Daddy, I don't want you to have a boo-boo". And then she'd cry. What in the world did I just do? I think I scarred her for life!

Then, some time late into the night, while I lay in bed, it hit me. I finally made the connection between comfort and suffering, between suffering and love.

I don't think the suffering Francis spoke of had much to do with success, money or good health. Suffering doesn't mean we have to be poor, afflicted or sick. It means we hurt. It means that in us, love and suffering are one and the same, they're connected.

My little three year old taught me for the first time in my life what it means to love and suffer because of love. Jesus, help us all if we don't get this! Woe to us who feel complacent and secure in Zion...

My daughter so loves me that even the thought of daddy hurting was enough to overwhelm her soul. For her, daddy's hurt was her hurt. Daddy's pain was her pain. For her, love and suffering are naturally connected. Even if she wanted to, she can't separate the two.

After a bit of reflecting, I took a deep hard look at my own heart, the heart of a church planter. When have I loved someone so deeply that I suffered because of it? Do I suffer because of the pain in my family, in my neighborhood, in my community, in my city?

Do I suffer for the lost, the broken, the hurting, the spiritually restless, the orphan, the widow, the abused, the addict, the hungry, the poor, the rich, the depressed, the outcast, the sick, the oppressed?

Could Jesus have endured the physical suffering that he had to endure on the cross without first enduring and embracing the spiritual suffering so intimately connected to his ever-abounding love for us?

Oh, that we could have faith like a child, eyes like a child, the heart of a child. Oh, that our hearts could break for the lost and the broken, hurt for the pain in our world so much so that out of our deep and gruesome suffering would rise a compelling and divine resolve to offer hope and healing, restoration and reconciliation with the Creator God.

Are you willing for God to break your heart? Are you willing to love so deeply that the rest of your life will be filled with the suffering that Jesus feels for every single man and woman, boy and girl?

The Hills Run Red

"The Hills Run Red". No, this isn't a movie review. No, I haven't seen this movie. But if you're like me, you've roamed the isles of your local movie rental store so many times over the years, covers like this barely catch your eye. We glance past the half-naked National Lampoon College Break cover positioned right next to Madagascar 2 and then move on down the row until we find a movie fit to take home.

The other night, I decided it would be fun to take Morgan with me to the movie store. Morgan is my 2 1/2 year old daughter, and some times a little road trip is my way of getting a little quality alone time with her. Sometimes it's the book store. Sometimes it's the animal store. And sometimes it's the movie store. I thought I'd let her pick out a movie from the kids section before I picked out something for her mom and I to watch later that night. She picked out her movie in like 5 seconds flat, "The Little Mermaid: Ariel's Beginning", or something like that.

I walked through most of the new release section. Morgan was holding my hand. Then she said the line that gets me every time, "Daddy, hold you." I hope she never stops saying that. Kids grow up so fast. I picked her up and continued walking through the new release section. I stopped in a corner and proceeded to pick up a cover that looked like a real possibility. I stood there for a few minutes reading the back of the box and trying to ask all the good questions husbands should ask when renting a movie without their wives present. Is this something she will like? When is the last time I threw in the towel and rented a chick flick? That's usually something I do once or twice a year! She's always very appreciative.

As I stood reading the cover, holding my daughter and debating my rental I noticed Morgan was zoned out, head turned almost 180 degrees. As I turned to look at what had grabbed her attention I found myself face to face with Babyface. Not a cute baby face, but that Babyface. The one on the cover of that atrocious-looking movie.

I quickly turned around, telling her not to look, but to my surprise, the faster I turned and tried to shield her eyes the faster she turned the opposite way keeping her gaze fixed on that scary cover. She was frozen. She couldn't turn away. Maybe she thought if she turned away Babyface would jump off the shelf and bite her. I don't know. I kind of thought that myself to be honest. I walked around the corner, this time glancing in every direction possible to make sure my daughter was protected from the terrible covers plaguing the entire store (never really noticed them before).

I knelt down to have a daddy talk but before I could say anything she said, "Daddy, is that guy scary? Is that guy scary daddy?" I told her that that guy wasn't real and couldn't scare her and that daddy doesn't like to see her scared. I asked her what I always ask her when she shows a little fear, "Has daddy ever let you fall? Has daddy ever hurt you?" "No", I say. "And daddy won't ever let you fall or get hurt, okay?"

We walked out of the store and for the next few days she's asked about the scary man. When I was taking her from Red Robin to the book store she asked me if the scary man was going to be there. She's mentioned him a few times and usually every time she mentions him she says, "But he's not real daddy, he's fake." I can tell though, that she's still a little worried about the scary guy on the cover showing up somewhere while she's playing or taking a nap.

I saw the loss of innocence that day. I saw evil present itself to my precious little girl. I saw fear sting her through her eyes. And I've watched the effect of that one small, seemingly insignificant moment over and over as her mind continues to hit rewind and those images continue to surface. And I can't do anything to stop it.

Then I had to wonder, is that what Jesus feels?
It must be.

Jesus was there in the beginning when evil presented itself to his perfect and innocent creation. He watched his spotless creation become tainted and dirty, shameful and painfully aware of their nakedness.

The love He must feel for us, and yet the horror.

Jesus is there every time the thought of lust rises up within me. It must pain him so deeply. Jesus is there when we are led down the dark paths temptation often takes us. Paths of addiction, paths of selling ourselves short in order to feel accepted, paths of risky behavior, paths of binging to quench our feelings of insignificance, paths so shameful we could never utter the words, paths so lonely nobody must understand.

But like a father, Jesus doesn't stop loving us. If anything, He loves us more. Like a father thrust into protection mode to shield a little girl from the things he knows will hurt her, Jesus must be moved to do the same.

Ultimately, we sin because we choose to sin. But truly, we were born into this mess. Truly, we were made innocent and sinless. Truly, our Creator has a perfect and painless plan for us. And though we choose to sin, and though we often make it harder on ourselves than we have to, rather than feeling condemnation and judgment, rather than feeling unworthy of God's love and mercy and forgiveness, we need to find a way to trust that God's love is beyond our ability to fully understand.

If we could just picture Him like a father in a movie store trying to shield the eyes of his child; if we could just picture Him as a father who, rather than moved to anger is moved to a deeper and more passionate love for his children; if we could just picture Him as a father who hurts so deeply because of the pain He watches His children endure and inflict upon themselves...

I imagine that when Morgan is a mommy with children of her own, I'm not going to see an independent and imperfect 30-something year old. I'm going to forever see that 2 1/2 year old beautiful and perfect little girl saying with innocent eyes, "Daddy, hold you."

I imagine that's how Jesus sees us.

I'm not loved because of my perfection. I'm loved, because in my imperfection, I find freedom and wholeness, forgiveness and safety in a Savior who never stops loving me but whose love continues to grow deeper and deeper, until I am fully rescued and forever free from the evil and sin and imperfection of where I now stand.