There are a great many questions that believers in Jesus must face. There are no easy answers to some of these. They shatter our smugness and serve to stifle our pride. In some cases we must live with the fact that the replies we give are not wholly satisfactory to ourselves. We cannot be surprised when others feel that our answers are inadequate. One problem in this category is that of human suffering, prevalent in a universe created by a loving God.
All of us know the questions beginning with "why." They usually are preceded by others. Is not God all-powerful? Is He not all-wise? If He is, does He not know a means for removing human suffering? If He is omnipotent, why does He not end it? Can a loving God look upon such suffering and not be moved? Philosophers have pondered these matters, believers have striven for a meaningful solution, and unbelievers have employed them as goads.
Why do seemingly good people die of cancer? Why is it that a saint, en route to performing an act of mercy in the name of the Lord, may be crippled for life in an automobile accident? Why does it happen that a powerful proclaimer of the gospel is turned into a helpless specimen by a sudden stroke of paralysis? There are no glib answers to these recurring questions. Often we are haunted by the hollowness of our own replies. In the final analysis, we are driven back upon sheer faith, and faith alone can make it possible for us to hang on in an area where knowledge takes us to the edge of the precipice and then deserts us.
We must recognize, however, that even though we cannot give a complete and satisfying answer, this does not mean that we cannot give an answer at all. Just because one cannot explain everything does not argue he cannot explain anything. It is a conviction of mine that in the letter to the Hebrews we are given information about three benefits that accrue from suffering, and these never would become ours if we did not know suffering. While one hesitates to speak of "benefits" and "suffering" in the same breath, this only points up another of the paradoxes with which the Bible teems. It is interesting that all three of these are directly connected with the sufferings of Jesus. That they also have a relationship to ourselves is evident by a statement in I Peter 2:21; "For even hereunto were ye called: because Christ also suffered for us, leaving us an example, that ye should follow his steps."
1. By suffering we are qualified to fulfill the role to which God has called us. This was true of Jesus: "For it became him, for whom are all things, and by whom are all things, in bringing many sons unto glory, to make the captain of their salvation perfect through sufferings" (Hebrews 2:10). Even though He was the Creator of everything, and all things were made for Him, He still could not qualify for the task as the captain of salvation except by suffering. The word "perfect" is not used here in a moral or ethical sense, although Jesus was without sin. There was no flaw in His character. As used here, perfection has to do with the nature of His function in bringing sons of God to glory.
Jesus was fully qualified to be the Savior of men only by suffering as a man. Suffering is the natural consequence of the kind of world that sin created. When man abdicated his moral sovereignty over God's creation, he became an heir of suffering. We should not be surprised at suffering in this kind of world. We should expect it. Our attitude should not be one of denial of its reality, like the Christian scientists, nor of abject complaint against God for allowing it. The world in which we live is not as God made it originally, but as man made it aboriginally. Our task is to determine how we can employ our suffering to develop the kind of character that will ultimately triumph over it. We must master it, not allow it to master us, or to make us its slaves.
The Spirit speaks about suffering as a test of our patience and endurance. We are like gold tried in the fire. Gold is not destroyed by flame. It is purified. Fire consumes the dross, and thus purges the precious metal. The apostle Peter makes it quite clear that saints should not think of fiery trials "as though some strange thing happened unto you" (1 Peter 4:12). The intimation of his epistles is that Jesus' followers have been called to suffer. He says, "Rejoice, inasmuch as ye are partakers of Christ's sufferings; that, when his glory shall be revealed, ye may be glad also with exceeding joy."
2. We learn obedience by the things we suffer. It was said of Jesus, "Though he were a Son, yet learned he obedience by the things which he suffered" (Hebrews 5:8). It is obvious that it is easier to apply this to ourselves than to Jesus. One who studies the expression in any great depth will soon become aware of how the commentators have wrestled with it. It is not my purpose to deal with all of the details. I can better serve my own cause by expressing what I think it means and does not mean.
It certainly does not mean that Jesus did not know what obedience meant. His very advent into our world was an act of supreme obedience to the will of His Father. In fact, under very trying circumstances He asserted that He was not deserted by the Father, nor abandoned. He offered as His reason for saying so that He unvaryingly did the Father's will: "He that hath sent me is with me: the Father hath not left me alone; for I do always those things that please him" (John 8:29).
We can hardly assume that Jesus was reluctant to obey the Father until suffering brought Him into line, nor can we suppose that He was tempted to resist and refuse until humbled by suffering. Laying aside all of these as intolerable, it seems to me that even though He was the Son of God, He was willing to become like ourselves and to submit to suffering, as a means of encouraging obedience. Jesus wanted to understand my nature to such an extent that He willingly subjected himself to my lot in order to see how I must learn.
All of us are quite aware that we learn obedience through suffering. We learn it in many ways. The person who breaks the speed limit and wrecks his automobile, crawls out of the mess with realization that his bruised and battered body must pay for his indiscretion. One who extends his credit obligations beyond his ability to pay, and then loses his job, lies awake at night suffering remorse because of his lack of control. Even little children must be required to pay the penalty for failing to behave and to obey. There are some things we apparently refuse to accept or admit until personal suffering enforces them upon us. Henry Ward Beecher said, "God washes the eyes by tears until they can behold the invisible land where tears shall come no more."
3. We learn compassion for others who suffer by our own endurance of suffering. It is possible that prolonged and acute suffering by its very nature can create a state of loneliness for the sufferer. This may result from one of two things. The sufferer may feel that he has become a handicap to others, and suspect that they avoid him because he cannot relate to them normally, or the sufferer may withdraw into a shell because he is unable to maintain social contacts to the full. In either case the ostracism only increases the problem by adding that of emotion to the physical, and the sufferer feels entirely forsaken.
It is here that the real believer who has a relationship with Jesus can triumph over self and gain the victory over his negative feelings. A consciousness of the nearness of Jesus enables him to recognize that he is not alone. He can be assured of a compassionate and understanding Friend who will not desert him, regardless of how rough the going is. There are two passages to be recalled when waves of self-pity sweep over the soul and fear of desertion sets in. One declares that Jesus was made like His brethren so that He could be both merciful and faithful as a high priest. The declaration closes with a sentence filled with assurance: "For in that he himself hath suffered being tempted, he is able to succor them that are tempted" (2:18).
When we are in trouble we instinctively turn for help to someone else who has been through the same turmoil. There is little doubt that this is the basis for the high degree of success achieved by Alcoholics Anonymous. Because of one's inability to cope with life without intoxicants, the victim of drink can be sure of being understood by those who are "in the same boat." The simple approach to an agonizing problem has paid off, because it brings one into a fellowship of understanding, created by similar experience.
I have conducted a number of forums and seminars with high school students who have been experimenting with drugs, and have been grateful for their response. I am instantly aware that there is a wall between us, however, because I have never smoked pot, skin-popped, or mainlined. I cannot talk from a mutually experiential level with them. The difference is quite noticeable when I take someone with me whom I have salvaged after a "bad trip." Even though a former "pothead" or "pill freak" may not be an eloquent speaker, he commands attention because he knows what he is talking about. When he says that Jesus is the answer, his youthful hearers listen to the answer, because they realize a "veteran" knows the problem firsthand.
I know a woman of about forty who lost her husband as the result of an accident. His life was taken in its very prime, at a time when he and his wife were planning glorious things for the future. Some of their dreams were just beginning to reach fruition when death intervened and dashed all plans into oblivion. The wife went through a period of deep depression. There were times when she doubted the existence of God. There were moments of hysteria. She even contemplated suicide, and hated herself for doing so. In one of her blackest moments of despair, she was visited by another woman whose husband had died of a heart attack when she was only twenty-seven years of age. She was left a widow with three small children to rear. In a soft voice she told the other woman of sleepless nights and tear-filled days. She also told her that never once had she lost faith that God would see her through. Every night she prayed herself to sleep, and soon a healing balm was applied to her heart. She had suffered much more than the one who had recently lost her husband, so her very presence radiating calm faith made a difference. Something like this comes through to us when we turn to Jesus in our suffering.
The other passage to which I alluded is Hebrews 4:15, 16: "For we have not an high priest which cannot be touched with the feeling of our infirmities; but was in all points tempted like as we are, yet without sin. Let us therefore come boldly unto the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy, and find grace to help in time of need."
I am thinking of a social worker who was given a special award of recognition because of her efficiency in processing cases of the indigent and poverty-stricken. Day after day she sits at her desk listening to tales of human woe. From early morning until closing time the paper forms she has filled out pile up on her desk. She deals directly with wretchedness, hunger, disease, and despair. She must try to sort out the truth from the lies, and determine what is valid and what is not. One night I asked her how she could appear so cheerful and charming after a long day at her desk. Her reply was, "I never really become involved with persons. To me each one is a client. I see him as an index card or a form for filing in a metal cabinet. He is a number on the computer. This allows me to keep my sanity."
One time I was staying in the home of a prominent physician and surgeon. At breakfast one morning, he suggested that when he left the office in the evening he would take me to dinner at a gourmet restaurant we had been wanting to visit. He ventured the opinion that he would be ready for relaxation because of a particularly trying surgical technique he would have to employ that day. When he drove home to pick me up, I asked him about his day. His patient had died without regaining consciousness, and a little boy for whom he had performed brain surgery a few days before also expired while his father and mother watched him breathe his last.
I was curious to know how this affected an eminently skilled surgeon, and I ventured to ask. He did not shut me up but began to talk. He said, "No human being like myself can ever be unaffected by disease or death. We are too close to it to ignore it. I think about every patient, but I suspect I think of him as a case, challenging my powers of diagnosis and my knowledge of how to prescribe. In advance I go over all I have ever learned in school and in refresher courses. Then I determine the steps I shall take. But I do not become emotionally involved. Perhaps I deal with cases, not with persons. I wonder about my own attitude sometimes."
I think it is precisely at this point that Jesus differs in His ministration to our needs. I have a real conviction that He never regards me as a number fed into a computer. When I file my federal income tax return, it contains my Social Security number. The data I supply is fed into the maw of that giant electronic device under that number. The computer knows nothing about me. It has no consciousness of how hard I have labored for my income. It knows nothing of what I would like to do with the money I must pay as a tax to the government. It is cold, indifferent, calculating, and mechanical. It does not care who I am, what I am, or where I am going. But I am not a number to Jesus. He knows me. He does not need a printout for identification.
My personal physician is a wonderful man. I have a great deal of confidence in him, but he has hundreds of patients, and he cannot possibly remember them all. When I go to him for a checkup, one of his nurses calls my name from her appointment chart and conducts me to a little cubicle containing a desk and an examination table. She tells me the doctor will be in to see me soon. After she closes the door, she puts my chart in a spring clip on the outside. Although I cannot see through the door, I know the doctor comes and takes my chart, reads my name, and quickly glances at his findings and recommendations of the last time. Then he comes in, cheerful and smiling, extending his hand and saying, "Well, well, Mr. Ketcherside, it's nice to see you again! How are you feeling?" I've been tempted to switch the name on the front page of my chart to see if he would come in and say, "Well, well, Mr. Wyzinski! It is nice to see you again. And how is Mrs. Wyzinski?"
Jesus needs no such chart. He said that the good shepherd "calleth his own sheep by name, and leadeth them out" (John 10:3). When I come to Jesus in time of need, He never asks, "Who is speaking, please?" He never says, "I am sorry, but I just can't place you. I don't recall your name." Jesus knows me, inside and out. Jesus is involved with me, with all my feelings and motives. He has no office hours. He does not take Thursdays off to play golf.
I confess that it really touches me when I read that our High Priest can be touched with our infirmities. He knows them all. There is not a temptation I have had to wrestle with that He did not experience. We make a mistake when we dream about Jesus and conclude that He was so holy there were some things Satan did not dare throw at Him. Satan scraped the bottom of the temptation barrel. He unloaded his whole arsenal, trying Him with every problem to which flesh is the unfortunate heir. He kept nothing back, but Jesus waded through the muck of earth's garbage dump unsullied. Did you ever weigh the force of that little word "yet" in the statement "yet without sin"?
All of this should encourage boldness in approaching the throne of grace. I once knew a group of young people who were given an invitation to come to the White House to present to the President a book of history compiled by the class. When they tried to choose someone to present the little speech in front of the television cameras, the class president refused the assignment. He declared that he was too timid and forgetful. He said, "I haven't got the nerve to tackle it!" Let me tell you that, even though the Lord of the universe occupies the throne of mercy, I am not frightened to approach Him. I've got the nerve to tackle it!
There are two things we all need in the moral universe. One is mercy. We cannot make it on merit for two reasons. First, the divine arrangement is not set up on that basis. Second, even if it were, none of us could hit the mark. Our human nature never could generate enough merit to qualify. Therefore, divine mercy is an absolute essential.
The second thing we need is grace to help in time of need. There is no such thing as a life on earth without knowing a need. Some do not recognize their need, but this is no proof that the need is not there. Need represents a lack of anything requisite. We often require forgiveness and forbearance. There are times of want, poverty, and distress. But regardless of the nature of our exigency, we can approach the throne, knowing that God has said, "Him that cometh unto me, I will in no wise cast out."
GOD'S PIONEER
Having explored with you some of the good things that can arise from
adversity when it is
consigned to God's hand, I should like to turn our attention back to the term "captain of
salvation" in Hebrews 2:10. The objective of Jesus is stated as "bringing many sons unto glory."
In order to accomplish this, it is argued that it was appropriate and fitting for Him to perfect
himself to the task by suffering. To do this He identified himself with our lot. He partook of our
state. He did it all as the captain of the salvation of those for whom He suffered.
A study of the original language in this phrase leads to the conclusion that the word "captain" is hardly an adequate rendering. It does not convey to the modern man the import of the Greek word archegos. The word occurs four times in the Greek text, and in every instance it is applied to Jesus. In Acts 3:15 He is called "the Prince of life." In Acts 5:31 He is called "a Prince and a Savior." In Hebrews 12:2 He is called "the author" of our faith. The word was not easy for the translators to capture in English, as is evident from the variety of words they use in its stead.
J. B. Phillips uses the expression, "the source of our faith." The New English Version renders it "upon whom faith depends from start to finish." Today's English Version gives much the same reading. The Revised Standard Version reads "the pioneer of our faith." The Twentieth Century New Testament employs the term "Guide." We do not ordinarily think of a captain as being either a source, guide, or pioneer.
The fact is that archegos was used by the Greeks in every one of these senses. The translators had to make a selection that they considered to be most apt to convey the thought the writer wished to express to the Hebrews. As the first part of the word suggests, it has the basic meaning of chief, leader, or head. It was used for a captain of an army, or for a political leader of a province. Since "prince" designates one who rules over a principality, it is easy to see why the translators twice adopted it to describe the relationship of Jesus to the domain of salvation or faith. But the word also means a "founder" or "originator." One who founded a school of philosophy was called an archegos. One who planted a new colony or established a new city was also given this designation.
Whatever was under consideration at the time, there was always one thought running like a thread through every usage. The word signified "one who took the lead," with the view that others would be following and participating in the project. No one builds a city for his own exclusive occupancy. No one founds a school with the prospect that he will be the only student. No one begins a colony on the hope that he will be the only resident. Indeed, if this were the case there would be no city, school, or colony. There was always the expectancy that others would march in the footsteps of the leader.
It is because of this I experienced a real thrill when I first read the Revised Standard Version and found that the translators had selected the word "pioneer" unanimously in Hebrews 2:10 and 12:2. There is something about the very idea of a pioneer that describes what Jesus is to me. Our English word wends its way backward to the Latin pedis, "foot," and a peon is one who goes on foot, especially a foot soldier. So a pioneer was an explorer, one who went ahead and prepared the way for those who would follow.
As a lad I can remember my grandfather showing me the marks on huge trees, placed there by hardy timber explorers who thus blazed a route for others. I can also recall his stories of those who became lost, and in their circuitous wanderings stumbled upon a tree which had been blazed by an ax. They now realized that they were on the road to shelter and safety. Jesus is my trailblazer. He came into the tangled forest of life and plunged into the wilderness, marking the way for me. He placed danger signs, built bridges, removed obstacles, and led right on through the dark valley of the shadow. Ever since the day I made a firm resolution to follow in His steps, I have been looking for the marks along the trail. It gives me a little of the thrill of an explorer to pick my way through the undergrowth of sin and temptation, and think about the future goal where I know He is waiting.
It is my good fortune to live but a few minutes' drive from the winter quarters where Meriwether Lewis and William Clark began their expedition on May 14, 1804. Their adventure is regarded as one of the great facts of exploration. The men traveled 8,500 miles. Much of the route lay through unknown territory inhabited by Indians who had never before seen a white man. The leaders kept a diary, drew maps, and charted the route. A few years ago another band of men covered the same trail. They had no trouble finding the route. I am glad that the Spirit commissioned some of the companions of Jesus to make a record of His earthly trek. I no more confuse the Bible with Jesus than it would confuse an explorer's record book with Lewis and Clark. Jesus is the way-shower, the road builder, God's engineer. I am happy to be part of the continuous expedition, which will cease only when we see the Great Explorer.
God is not a tease! But He does not drop His inestimable riches upon us in one great heap. He releases the treasure to us bit by bit, "Here a little, there a little," as the prophet quaintly described it. I have learned never to close my mind, and never to turn away, assuming that it is all over. I am convinced that the Holy Spirit is not furnishing new revelation, but He gives us deeper insights, and they are not all "pennies from Heaven." Some are of transcendent value. Let us look at the verses that have sparked these comments, and then I will tell you why they mean so much to me.
"For both he that sanctifieth and they who are sanctified are all of one: for which cause he is not ashamed to call them brethren, saying, I will declare thy name unto my brethren, in the midst of the church will I sing praise unto thee. And again, I will put my trust in him. And again, Behold I and the children which God hath given me."
It is Jesus who sanctifies, who consecrates and sets us apart to the service of God. The sanctified ones are those who are in Jesus, those who have been purchased by His blood. It is here affirmed that both Jesus and His saints are all of one. It is obvious that there is an ellipsis here. A word must be supplied, if we would complete the thought. William Barclay says they are all of the "same stock." Albert Barnes suggests that other words, such as family, spirit, Father, or nature, would suit the connection, and that some such word must be understood. Robert Milligan thinks that "one Father" is correct, saying, that it "seems to accord best with all the terms and conditions of the context."
If Jesus is not ashamed to recognize as brethren those who have the same Father as himself, we should not be ashamed to do so either. Brotherhood is not based upon equality of knowledge, for then Jesus could not regard us as brethren. It is not based upon the degree of doctrinal comprehension, intellectual attainment, or orthodox understanding. Brotherhood is based upon a common Fatherhood. Fellowship results from a mutual sonship. We are brothers, not because we have the same ideas, but because we have the same Father. No one truly follows Jesus who refuses to call all those his brethren who have the same Father as himself.
The writer is addressing Jews. It is not surprising that he would validate what he says by quotations from the Old Covenant Scriptures, drawing upon both the psalms and the prophets. The principle he enunciates is universal, and I am blessed by the thought that I need not choose my brethren. All I need to do is accept those whom the Father has accepted. Wherever He has a child, there I have a brother or sister. It is just that simple, and I intend never to confuse or confound it!