Reduced to Faith

Last night I had a discussion with my aunt, uncle, and wife about suffering and the challenges we face in life. It was an encouraging time, filled with accounts of victory, humility, and transformation.

Speaking with many believers across the country, including last night, one recurring theme is that suffering plays a crucial role in our becoming like Christ. At the dinner table, my aunt spoke of her bout with cancer, possible cystic fibrosis, and other constant reminders of her limitations. But as she worked through the list of offenders, spoke of the internal struggles, recounted the numerous intimate encouraging relationships, and testified to her heart and mind transfromation, her face lightened and her inner beauty shined brightly. How is it that one who has suffered so much can emit such a powerful light? And those of us who have suffered little can darken even the gayest of situations?

I don't have many illnesses. In fact, until my struggle with e-coli and kidney stones in March of 2007, I have never been abnormally sick. Yet, the ordained steps toward my humility are no less severe. My personalized kiln has more to do with me making an ass of myself. A mouthful of foolishness, one word too many, impatient inquiry, or a forgotten appointment. My battle with self-image and identity usually resides in my lack of demonstrative wisdom.

What I've realized is that we all have a tailored struggle. We each must overcome our arrogance and wrongful self-importance. And God has designed into our fabric a gnawing flaw that requires either a recognition of our frailty or a vain attempt at self-delusion. Whereas my aunt has questions of why and when and for how long, Lord; I have questions of when will I learn and where did that come from. We must come to terms with the fact that even on our best day we are not intended to be God in perfection, wisdom, power, or knowledge. We are intended, however, to rely upon the God of those things. We are meant to be humble and intentional in living lives of worship. Otherwise, who would receive the glory?

Surely I will prove myself once again as an idiot. And, surely, once again, grace will be shown to me. And in my pride I could be angry about this predictament. But isn't it better to rejoice in the grace, recognize the flaw, and pray for transformation of both heart and mind. After all, isn't that the greater treasure to pursue?