Jesus made it clear that some in the world will hate us. If they hated Jesus without cause, they will also hate His disciples without cause. Of course, there is in fact a cause for this kind of hatred. Such hatred is not random or arbitrary. Darkness hates the light. Sometimes, when the light shines in the darkness, a sinner is overcome by hatred for his dark ways and seeks to find the source of this light than can cleanse his soul. Sadly, too often the effect is the opposite. The light exposes the wickedness of the darkness, and the darkness lashes out, seeking to kill this light that would seek to interrupt its guilty pleasures. Some evil people are increasingly hardened the more they interact with Christians, and the more they hear of Jesus. Such people live in their own hell, hating any shred of light that might accuse but also rescue them. All they know is sin and evil, and so hardened are their hearts that they will kill the sources of light if necessary. For this reason they crucified the Lord of Glory. They come for Christians too.
But if even the greatest sin in the history of the universe, the murder of Jesus, was turned to good by the marvelous providence of God, surely the evil we face is also turned to good by the grace of God. I have found that in seasons where I face intense opposition for my faith, or experience some other form of suffering, despite the frustration that naturally follows, I am more susceptible to the workings of God in my soul. What I mean is this: when everything is smooth sailing, I might rejoice in God and thank Him, but my spiritual life might not be very vital. If everything is going well and I can overcome minor irritations with distractions and various forms of comfort, I become a functional atheist, a nice Christian who has no true dependence on God. When I am in the Promised Land, I can easily idolize the pomegranates and vines and forget the God who made them and allows me to enjoy them. It is when we are in the wilderness, deprived of health, safety, money, and loved ones, that God provides for us miraculously, as he rained manna from heaven and fed Elijah by His angel. In those moments, when God is truly all we have, we are drawn to a closer communion with God than would be likely were we in full health, comfort, popularity, and wealth.
We tend to think of material goods and health as a blessing. But what if deprivation and oppression are the real blessing? I heard a haunting meditation on providence by John Piper recently. He was asked if God hated Africa more than other places, because of how much Africa has suffered in comparison with Western Europe and North America. He had much to say to this question. But he observed in particular that while North America and Europe have enjoyed centuries of prosperity and opportunity, the percentage of the population which is Christian has been plummeting in these areas, and together with that a precipitous decline in morality has occurred. Has God “given up” the Western world to its lusts, and thus allowed it to consume itself by its wickedness? Meanwhile suffering Africa has seen its population of Christians explode, as millions and millions learn to “hate their lives” and find salvation in Christ. Is Africa’s suffering a sign of God’s mercy to them? Is God urging them to put no trust in earthly things and flee to Him? It might seem so. Meanwhile we sink in the mire because of our wealth, our lusts, our ungodly entertainment. Are we really the “blessed” ones?
The supreme goal for the Christian ought to be perfect conformity to Christ; in other words, the perfection of the soul, the perfect love of God, is what ought to be pursued above all else. Do wealth and health and popularity lead us there? If so, may we have more of them! But I think in fact that it is sickness, poverty, bereavement, and rejection by society that leads us there, if by God’s grace we can respond to these challenges in faith. This is what Paul did when afflicted by a thorn in his flesh: “I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong” (2 Corinthians 12:9-10). O Weakness, you do not cause me to be crushed but make me strong in Christ.
And in another place Paul informs the Corinthians: “We do not want you to be unaware, brothers, of the affliction we experienced in Asia. For we were so utterly burdened beyond our strength that we despaired of life itself. Indeed, we felt that we had received the sentence of death. But that was to make us rely not on ourselves but on God who raises the dead” (2 Corinthians 1:8-9). O Affliction, you may drive me to the grave but I will go there relying on God more than I did before you visited me.
And James opens his epistle with these words: “Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds.” Because they are good in themselves? No, but because “you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness.” And it is only when we grow in steadfastness that “you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.” I want perfection and completeness. O Trial, you do not destroy me but strengthen me. O Trial, you do not break me but perfect me. O Trial, you do not lead me to hell but to heaven.
If we take our trials, sufferings, and temptations as God’s means to purify, strengthen, and sanctify us, then finally we are able to proclaim, “No weapon that is formed against us shall prosper.” Indeed, what we once saw as weapons against us we may take as messengers of grace from God. Foolish world, when you attack the Christian you are helping him on his journey. Foolish world, when you killed Jesus you saved the very people you hate. All weapons that are hurled at the Christian, though they sting at impact, will see their poison turned to balm.