The Fellowship of Suffering

I enjoyed Proverbs. Now it’s time to move on to 1 Thessalonians.

Dr. Jesse Middendorf writes in this week’s exposition: "It has always been true: Shared suffering produces deep relationship."

Shared suffering. Suffering together.

Have you ever been part of a discussion that questioned the significance of our lack of persecution in North America as Christians? I get the feeling that getting along well with those outside the faith community is a sign of anemic faith. Yet, I’ve seen "persecuted" American Christians. Their offensiveness seems to have little to do with being devoted disciples of Jesus Christ, living a cruciform lifestyle. Rather, they’re pushing up against the rules, testing the boundaries and then yelling foul when the boundaries push back. Maybe my faith is too anemic to recognize true discipleship, but I have yet to see obnoxiousness on any list of biblical virtues.

So ... if we’re not suffering persecution because of our faith, how do we develop the deep relationships that are byproducts of shared suffering? Perhaps the answer lies in the groaning of the creation around us.

There is no shortage of suffering in this world, even in North America. Perhaps it’s the child next door who seldom hears a kind word. Or the widow whose children are consuming what few resources she has and leaving her destitute. Maybe it’s the teenage girl who is already losing the glow of youth as she seeks for love in all the wrong places. Or the neighbors whose marriage is slowly dying with no visible remedy. Or the man whose beloved wife is wasting away with cancer. Or the family with no steady income about to lose their home. People all around us are in agony as they face crushing circumstances with no means of escape.

I confess that it’s easy for me to back away from people in great pain. Hearing their stories makes me feel like I ought to do something to help them. How can I listen to their pain and then do nothing more than wish them well as I walk away? Yet, what can I do? I can’t cure cancer or reverse death or fix broken relationships or provide financial support for all the poor people I know. Having such limited resources makes me want to cross to the other side when I see hurting people, as did the priest in the story of the good Samaritan.

Perhaps this is where shared suffering comes in. All around us people are in pain. Rather than being related to their faith, it’s often obvious that sin is involved. Yet, here is genuine suffering – broken hearts, frustration, tears, hopelessness. Is this a suffering in which we can share as disciples of Jesus Christ? Isn’t that what he did? He saw a widow walking in the funeral procession of her only son and stopped and got involved. He wouldn’t have had to do that. He was a busy man. He had his own challenges. But he had compassion on the woman and stopped to restore her hope.

We don’t have the same resources Jesus had. Yet, even his were limited by time and space. He couldn’t personally interact with even a fraction of the multitudes of suffering people in Palestine. Sure, he fed 5,000 people – one meal; or maybe two. But they were hungry again a day or two later and where was Jesus? In another place, walking into the suffering of a different set of people.

Perhaps it’s not only suffering for being a Christian that deepens our relationships, but also drawing alongside those who are suffering the consequences of sin or of simply being human and stepping into their agony with them. When Paul wrote in Philippians (3:10) that he wanted to know "the fellowship of sharing in [Christ's] sufferings," could sharing in the sufferings of those around him have been the avenue to fulfilling that desire?

What do you think?