pain

Suffering Well

/ Bryan Lowe / Leave a comment

“Dear brothers and sisters, when troubles of any kind come your way, consider it an opportunity for great joy.”

“For you know that when your faith is tested, your endurance has a chance to grow. So let it grow, for when your endurance is fully developed, you will be perfect and complete, needing nothing.”

James 1:2-4, NLT

There are many different points where our Lord connects to us through our desperation. Our sorrow and confusion can be how God ‘wires us’ for additional contact— in some kind of weird and cosmic way, my pain becomes His ‘copper wire.’ Often is how He touches my heart as He flows through it.

I think it’s helpful to see our issues in this way. 

There is a current that must work through us, making contact and ultimately creating a circuit. What I mean by this is that it seems we have to experience pain, in order to know His presence.  Only if you know that a brother has struggled, do you become aware that a pearl of tremendous wisdom (and love) is now accompanying him. Usually.

We must be aware that our distress allows us access to His ‘careful’ grace. Our trials, properly received, endow us with special and supplemental power.

When it gets dark, light becomes exceptional.  In a book by Stephen Lawhead, (I think it was “the Silver Hand.”) we see a man, the hero take up stones that have been infused with the creative power of the universe.  Standing on the walls of a besieged stronghold, the desperate hero throws the stones down on the attackers.  And as each stone smashes into the ground it releases a part of a song, which destroys the enemy and defeats those strong in the darkness. (Silly story.)

I know that His Spirit infuses Himself into our hearts. 

He has imparted something in us that is both precious and powerful.  He works through the pain and struggles that we encounter.  These are terribly ugly, no question.  But it is through these we plug into something real and eternal.

I suppose when the tragedy finally brings real life it’s a most precious thing. We treasure all this for it comes at such an exorbitant price.

Pain indeed has a purpose, but oh, so many times it seems to only hurt. But that’s the way it works.

But yet, that is our calling. I certainly know that life is seldom easy and our choices are even harder. I recently read that Queen Victoria, as just a teen fiercely opposed her future coronation as the sovereign of England. She grew sullen, and rebellious and would continually frustrate her teachers.

Once when Victoria was shown a lineage that showed her and revealed her place in England’s future as queen.  She became uncharacteristically quiet and she responded with an astonishing simple awareness, “I will be good.” From that moment everything changed for her.

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We want to avoid suffering, death, sin, ashes. But we live in a world crushed and broken and torn, a world God Himself visited to redeem. We receive his poured-out life, and being allowed the high privilege of suffering with Him, may then pour ourselves out for others.

Elizabeth Elliot

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It Gets Even Better

/ Bryan Lowe / Leave a comment

I just saw a t-shirt. “It gets better,” and inside me something connected, it resonated. If there is something like spiritual mirth and laughter, I could barely contain myself. I wanted to shout and dance, but being an old man I knew I had to take extra Advil if I did. (Besides I was in Safeway.)

“For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us.”

Romans 8:18

 The last 20 years are something I’d rather forget and erase. It seems I’ve been hit with just about everything awful you can imagine. After each incident I find myself thinking, “finally, it’s done,” but no, it’s not really done, there’s more coming. I’m smiling as I write these words. “But no, it’s not.” Ha!

Being slammed over and over has created within me a special longing for my real home. When I ponder the eternity of heaven the knots of this life begin to unravel, and I see life as it really is. You see present day life is quite temporary, and these many issues will be forgotten.

The Apostle is remarkably clear about this.

“Neither count my life dear unto myself, so that I might finish my course with joy,” is Paul’s take on his life’s issues. To finally complete all of the moments–and do it with joy, is his goal. Crossing the tape triumphantly is the hope of the staggering believer. And it is mine.

My pain is just for a simple singular moment, but eternity is time on steroids.

It is forever and ever and ever and ever.

On my end, the exchange I make is hardly perfect. I turn in my “sawdust” and get gold in return, and who can turn this trade down? My ugliness becomes eternal beauty and who can resist such a deal? These terrible things that hurt me so badly carry an everlasting weight of glory.

Brother, please believe this. Yes, I know, it hurts.

The Greek word “worthy” in verse 18 can be translated “having weight” which suggests a heaviness or burden that must be carried. But even so, it’s temporary. It enters but passes, even though at the moment it seems forever. You carry it for a moment–but that is all. and it’s done.

I look, and gaze into eternity, and laugh in joy.

The Thief on the Cross Speaks

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Luke 23:39-43

“One of the criminals who were hanged railed at him, saying, “Are you not the Christ? Save yourself and us!” 40 But the other rebuked him, saying, “Do you not fear God, since you are under the same sentence of condemnation? 41 And we indeed justly, for we are receiving the due reward of our deeds; but this man has done nothing wrong.” 

42 “And he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” 43 And he said to him, “Truly, I say to you, today you will be with me in paradise.”

The pain was incredible, but I know that deep down I deserved to die. But not like this. Never like this. I was almost out of my mind with fear. What they were doing to me was terrifying.

You must understand that I was a common thief. I had stolen a loaf of bread when I was eight years old and that’s how it all got started for me. It more or else got bigger and easier. I knew how to steal and I was quite good at it. I was Jacob, the master thief!

When I was finally caught, they sentenced me to die. I supposed it was inevitable. I fault no one but myself as I knew what I was getting into. As I dragged my beam up to Golgotha, it was really strange but I suddenly remembered a verse from the scripture and it really did unsettle me.

“Cursed is everyone who hangs on a tree.”

(Gal. 3:13, ESV)

It’s a terrible thing to die this way. There were three of us, nailed to the wood and lifted up between heaven and earth. Jesus was nailed to the middle cross, not that it really mattered; all three of us were going to die today.

Many hope for an easy death, maybe in their sleep–but that’s not going to happen to us.

The third man could only mock, he was afraid, and I suppose he just echoed those Pharisees who didn’t really understand. But I knew better. I knew who this other man was, I had heard all the stories. Deep down I knew that this man on the center cross was the Messiah.

A crowd had gathered to watch us die. The Romans in their wonderful ingenuity had made a sign that they nailed above Jesus’ head, and it declared to everyone that Jesus was “the king of the Jews.” Even as he was dying, they found a way to malign him and irritate the crowd.

The other man being crucified continued to mock Jesus, and it infuriated me.

Why I defended him I don’t know for sure.

But I understood. Jesus was murdered out of the envy and jealousy of the Pharisees. He didn’t deserve to die like this, but He was hated, and who can confront these religious men without becoming a victim. Jesus had repeatedly crossed the line, so now they were now putting him to death. It seemed evil was really winning today.

I saw the soldiers throwing dice for Jesus’ clothes. He was now being mocked by them as well, even as He was dying on a brutal cross.

But all of a sudden it all made perfect sense.

He really was the Messiah, and these bastards were killing him. Crucifixion was starting to work on me now. I began to choke on my words, and it was getting hard to breathe.

“Jesus… please remember me. When your kingdom comes, please let me be a part of it.”

And as beaten as He was, He managed to turn and look directly at me. They had whipped and brutalized Him, and yet He was still aware. His words were whispered now, but I understood. “I promise that today you will be with me in paradise.”

I was starting to spasm again.

But the horror of death had left me. Some time had passed, and I could hear his breathing stop. But for the first time, I had peace. They used a spear on Jesus, but he was already dead.

The soldiers now came to the two of us, and they were carrying an ax to break our legs. It all had to do with the coming festival, and the Pharisees wanted us dead. When they swung that ax I knew a pain that I could never describe. My own death came quickly after that.

I was suddenly standing in paradise, whole and complete, and loved.

Someone was standing before me. He was shining, and I knew he was powerful; stronger, and He was more glorious than anyone I had ever met. It was crazy but somehow I knew that it was the Lord Jesus. He had come to meet me. It’s funny, but I realized that somehow I really did belong. Me–a dirty rotten thief.

Jesus had promised me, pronouncing me righteous, me of all people. I suddenly had a joy that I could never explain. I really was a part of the Kingdom that was beyond anything I had ever known. I believed him and asked if somehow I could be part of his eternal rule.

I simply asked and He gave me everything.

“I am going to heaven just like the thief on the cross who said in that final last moment: “Lord remember me.”

Billy Graham

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Cover Art: “Christ on the Cross between Two Thieves,” by Peter Paul Rubens

Finding the Light

/ Bryan Lowe / Leave a comment
“Indeed, we felt that we had received the sentence of death, so that we would not trust in ourselves but in God who raises the dead.”

2 Corinthians 1:9

To be chronically ill often means living with awful frustration. We can’t do what we want, we are ‘trapped’ by a disease we never asked for, and we’re held hostage by our minds and bodies. We once had a job– a career… and our time was occupied by that. Suddenly our lives are turned upside down.

We wanted something else, anything more than being very sick.

I once was a pastor of a small church here in Alaska. I also taught Gospels, several years in a local Bible Institute. I loved ministry very much. They defined my identity and gave me purpose. I enjoyed helping people and teaching the Word. I endeavored to be faithful in the ministry. And I hope I did.

With the sudden onset of a brain tumor, followed up by a diagnosis of severe depression, my life more or less exploded. I had extensive memory loss. I knew I had to step out of the ministry. I simply could not function. It was a hard thing to leave it behind. (And I still miss it.)

My depression grew even more profound with the stillborn death of our third child just 3 days before her delivery. Things suddenly ground to a standstill as my wife and I tried to process all of this. I guess I just couldn’t understand and more or less just shut down. I was angry at God. I spent months in bed, unable to function.

Some people were true jewels.

Others were more or less mean and uncaring. (I quickly learned how to take the good with the bad.) I suppose I should have understood, but things were so tangled up inside me that I couldn’t verbalize a thing. But God knew all about me. He loved and never judged.

The post-op recovery following the tumor was an ordeal, as I had to learn many things all over again. A few years later I ended up on disability; I was unable to work, and my symptoms were so unpredictable. I dealt with profound depression and a solid dose of paranoia and fear.

I learned that meds can help, but they can’t fix the problem.

Sometimes the isolation seemed worse than the pain. We wonder why this is happening to us, and we hear lies about our worthiness or God’s goodness. Our value to others seems to be scuttled by our illness. We can feel cursed, forgotten, crippled by God, or even worse. (Maybe even irrevocably lost?)

Satan craves our spiritual destruction, and he snares unsteady souls.

I admit I have been slow to learn this– but God brings good things out of the dark. I’m embarrassed by my personal lack of acquiring all of this. Now I’m starting to learn finally, and I want His words to reflect these truths.

“We now have this light shining in our hearts, but we ourselves are like fragile clay jars containing this great treasure. This makes it clear that our great power is from God, not from ourselves.”

2 Corinthians 4:7

This light will shine, and the treasure is found in clay vessels. Brokenness only means the treasure is now seen clearly. It’s important to note–jewels lose none of their value by being surrounded by broken clay. Our weaknesses are being turned into goodness, understanding, and love for our brothers and sisters.

Troubles of many varieties will pay us a visit. Count on it.

No matter what their nature, God holds his people in place while everything else is falling apart. But for the broken believer, there is another dimension; we will finally triumph. The tragedies we’ve had to endure only supplement our faith. We will stand– because He makes us stand.

“We are pressed on every side by troubles, but we are not crushed. We are perplexed, but not driven to despair. We are hunted down, but never abandoned. We get knocked down, but we are not destroyed.”

2 Corinthians 4:8-9

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God’s Word is Not a Cudgel

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“Let no corrupting talk come out of your mouths, but only such as is good for building up, as fits the occasion, that it may give grace to those who hear.”

Ephesians 4:29, ESV

In the spring of 1987 I was working with SOS Ministries in San Francisco. Our ministry house was on Sycamore in the Mission, a really rough place. There was ten of us and we were committed ourselves to street evangelism throughout the city. When I wasn’t on the street our in-house writing/printing took up a lot my time.

Vicky was our ministry secretary. She was young, outgoing, smart and a very good administrator. She was a whiz taking care of the office–and us. She was a vital part of the house. She was pretty much irreplacable.

Sometimes though we would clash, but never in a bad way.

But after time it seemed all I could only hear from her was criticism. And I began to get really angry. Our relationship grew testy over time and things began to fester inside of me. It’s funny, but now it was inconsquential.

But one day there was one of those moments I would regret even now after all these years. I had misconstrued that she was criticizing me. Whenever I was in the office it seemed she had it in for me.

I decided I must correct her. I believed she was way out of line it was up to me to set her straight.

“Vicky, I have a word for you, from God! Read Judges 16:16.“

“And when she pressed him hard with her words day after day, and urged him, his soul was vexed to death.”

As she grabbed her Bible and read the verse I could see the tears well up in her eyes. And I had used the Word of God like a cudgel, beating her with a billy club. I had bludgeoned her with a Bible verse.

What can I say? The memory of doing that has always stuck with me. I had wounded her spirit intentionally. Now the Father has forgiven me, I know that–but the lesson I learned has stuck with me through 30 years of ministering God’s Word.

“People who think they are religious but say things they should not say are just fooling themselves. Their “religion” is worth nothing.”

James 1:26, NCV

This quote drives this home:

“Five, or six, ten people shall be made temporarily wretched because one person, unconsciously perhaps, yet supremely, egotistic and selfish, has never learned to control his disposition and bridle his tongue.”

     James H. Aughey

I really must warn you, if you’re hurting your brothers and sisters by speaking foolishness, the Father will deal with you. Sometimes harshly. Now there is definitely room to correct, but I suggest for every second of time you speak, you need to spend twenty minutes in real prayer, for them and for yourself.

You don’t discern to expose sin. You discern to pray and intercede. I think this is a good “rule of thumb” for us all.

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You’re a Steward of Your Pain

/ Bryan Lowe / Leave a comment

Some time ago I came across a story that connected. A visiting speaker stood in front of a congregation and shared a painful incident from his childhood. He wanted to bring healing. After he spoke, an elder came and spoke to him–

“You have learned how to become a proper steward of your pain.”

The visiting speaker was profoundly touched by this. Finally, something came together in his heart and soul. Yes, he did learn how to deal scripturally with those ugly things from his past. He was becoming a proper steward of his pain.

The word for steward in the original Greek is oikonomos. It literally means “a keeper of a home.” It describes a manager, a superintendent to whom the head of the house or proprietor has entrusted the management of his affairs, the diligent care of receipts and expenditures.

The issue seems to be of management, how can God use these awful things for building His Kingdom?

No question about it, we live in a world of darkness. Each of us has been touched by hard things. Scars are part of our lives. When we come to Christ they come with us. All of these grim things are a real piece of us, we have been hurt (or maybe we’ve wounded others?)

Are you a good steward of who you are? Whether you’ve experienced trauma–something physical, sexual, or perhaps a mental illness. It could be any scar you carry from your past, and no one is immune from them it seems. You’ll find freedom if you can use these things for Him and his Kingdom.

We must see and understand that Jesus has taken everything and redeems it all for His glory.

He understands us fully–our past, present, and future. He ‘knows’ us–the real and hidden us. The challenge I suppose is to take these sad events to the throne. He alone can heal and then use that which has devastated us. What was intended to destroy is now meant to build.

Satan has afflicted you in his dark attempt to destroy you.

Jesus intervenes to save. As we grow to accept this, the Holy Spirit comes as our comforter and guide. He starts to teach us true redemption, and the incredible healing that he brings with him. It really is his work, not ours. We finally understand. It’s then we become broken healers that God can use.

The light has truly overcome the dark.

We’re being taught (sometimes very slowly) to carry all of these things and plead the blood of Jesus over our past. He covers us completely. He has redeemed us. Luke 1:68 explains much clearer than I can:

“Blessed is the Lord, the God of Israel because he has visited and provided redemption for his people.”

Becoming a steward of our pain is his doing. We’re able to touch others with these things that would cripple and destroy others. He has made us “managers” of these things, and we are taught to teach others, declaring that God has completely saved us. He works miracles!

“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has passed away, and see, the new has come!”

2 Corinthians 5:17

We’ll sovereignly meet those who need to hear our story. We’re being transformed into authentic witnesses. Yes, at times these awful things still hurt, and I suppose that’s to be expected. But we’re learning to manage them. We’ve become real-life stewards of our pain.

“That’s why we can be so sure that every detail in our lives of love for God is worked into something good.”

Romans 8:28, Message

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