The world is full
of sorrow. Our lives have great sorrows. Yet, we must not buy into the
lie that the world embraces. We are not victims. No believer has ever
been a victim.
First, our sorrows are not unique. My greatest sorrows compared to the sorrows of others I know or have read about are not even--by a long shot--horrendous sorrows. Other people's children have had cancer; other people's loved ones have struggled with their faith; other people have been falsely accused, lied to, betrayed, emotionally abused; other people's fathers have passed away; other people's sorrows are much greater than mine. And the same is true of all Christians. Our sorrows are not the consequence of God picking on us. Others have not hurt us because they were stronger than God and could do as they pleased. His love for us allowed it. Job was not a victim. Joseph was not a victim. Daniel was not a victim. Esther was not a victim. Paul was not a victim. Jesus was not a victim. You and I are not victims.
The sovereign, omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent, all-loving God--our Savior--is always in control. What He brings into my life and what He allows to enter into my life are designed to mold me into the image of His Son. Yet, we spend our lives rebelling against the very circumstances that God desires to use to make us into vessels fit for the Master's use. We fight against His breaking. We refuse to submit and learn of Him. We weep bitter, angry tears at the Refiners fire resisting the minting of the precious gold He desires us to be. And, too often, we look at the lives of others and encourage them to do the same. And we wonder why we drink the dregs of bitterness instead of the cup of joy. We fret because we cannot reach into other people's lives and make everything right when we should be encouraging them to sing Paul's anthem: "Most gladly, therefore, I will rather boast about my weaknesses that the power of Christ may dwell in me." "When I am weak, then I am strong."
A crown of thorns adorned our Savior's head on the cross He willingly endured for us. It was a radiant Redeemer's crown--the Victor's crown. A thorn in the flesh made the apostle Paul a dynamic saint who could say, "Follow my example as I follow the example of Christ." Embracing our thorns reveals to us the depth of the grace God has lavished on our lives that we might be strong in love, not in bitterness, self-pity, or remorse. God's roses all have thorns--thorns that can be transformed into arms of compassion and encouragement for others in their times of sorrow that they, too, might become one of God's roses. We can, if we selfishly desire to do so, resist our sorrows and wallow in the muck of self-pity and angry, despairing tears. Or we can submit to our sorrows and stand amazed at the beauty that can emanate from a life of thorns--from the life of the smallest Christ-like rose.
"But He knows the way I take; When He has tried me, I shall come forth as gold."
First, our sorrows are not unique. My greatest sorrows compared to the sorrows of others I know or have read about are not even--by a long shot--horrendous sorrows. Other people's children have had cancer; other people's loved ones have struggled with their faith; other people have been falsely accused, lied to, betrayed, emotionally abused; other people's fathers have passed away; other people's sorrows are much greater than mine. And the same is true of all Christians. Our sorrows are not the consequence of God picking on us. Others have not hurt us because they were stronger than God and could do as they pleased. His love for us allowed it. Job was not a victim. Joseph was not a victim. Daniel was not a victim. Esther was not a victim. Paul was not a victim. Jesus was not a victim. You and I are not victims.
The sovereign, omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent, all-loving God--our Savior--is always in control. What He brings into my life and what He allows to enter into my life are designed to mold me into the image of His Son. Yet, we spend our lives rebelling against the very circumstances that God desires to use to make us into vessels fit for the Master's use. We fight against His breaking. We refuse to submit and learn of Him. We weep bitter, angry tears at the Refiners fire resisting the minting of the precious gold He desires us to be. And, too often, we look at the lives of others and encourage them to do the same. And we wonder why we drink the dregs of bitterness instead of the cup of joy. We fret because we cannot reach into other people's lives and make everything right when we should be encouraging them to sing Paul's anthem: "Most gladly, therefore, I will rather boast about my weaknesses that the power of Christ may dwell in me." "When I am weak, then I am strong."
A crown of thorns adorned our Savior's head on the cross He willingly endured for us. It was a radiant Redeemer's crown--the Victor's crown. A thorn in the flesh made the apostle Paul a dynamic saint who could say, "Follow my example as I follow the example of Christ." Embracing our thorns reveals to us the depth of the grace God has lavished on our lives that we might be strong in love, not in bitterness, self-pity, or remorse. God's roses all have thorns--thorns that can be transformed into arms of compassion and encouragement for others in their times of sorrow that they, too, might become one of God's roses. We can, if we selfishly desire to do so, resist our sorrows and wallow in the muck of self-pity and angry, despairing tears. Or we can submit to our sorrows and stand amazed at the beauty that can emanate from a life of thorns--from the life of the smallest Christ-like rose.
"But He knows the way I take; When He has tried me, I shall come forth as gold."
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