This has been really good reading for me recently.
In A Path through Suffering, p. 64-68, Elisabeth Elliot writes:
“Set your troubled hearts at rest and banish your fears,” [Jesus] went on to say – but not because nothing “bad” would happen. He knew exactly what he was about to endure. “I shall not talk much longer with you, for the prince of this world must be shown that I love the Father, and do exactly as He commands” (Jn 14:27, 30-31).
The peace of the Lord was not contingent upon His escaping death. . . .
The disciples’ worst fears were about to be realized, yet Jesus commanded (yes commanded) them to be at peace. All would be well, all manner of things would be well—in the end. In a short time, however, the prince of this world was to have his hour of power. Not that Satan had any rights over Jesus. Far from it. Nor has he rights over any of God’s children. But it has to be proven from time to time (to the underworld, as in Job’s case, as well as to this world) that there is such a thing as obedient faith, faith which is not dependent on receiving benefits only. Jesus had to show the world that He loved the Father and would, no matter what happened, do what He said. . . .
Suffering was indispensable for the world’s salvation.
There was no other way but the cross.
The servant is not greater than his Lord.
If we suffer with Him we shall also reign with Him.
Shall we not follow the Master in suffering as in everything else, sharing with Him in His work, that the world and the devils themselves may be shown in this last decade of the millennium that we love the Father and will do just what He says? The world does not want to be told. The world must be shown--shown the very guts of faith.
Does our faith rest on having prayers answered as we think they should be answered, or does it rest on that mighty love that went down into death for us? We can’t really tell where it rests, can we, until we’re in real trouble. . . .
We are not often called to great sacrifice, but daily we are presented with the chance to make small ones—a chance to make someone cheerful, a chance to do some small thing to make someone comfortable or contented, a chance to lay down our petty preferences or cherished plans. This probably requires us to relinquish something—our own convenience or comfort, our own free evening, our warm fireside, or even our habitual shyness or reserve or pride. My liberty must be curtailed, bound down, ignored (oh, how the world hates this sort of thing! how our own sinful natures hate it!)—for the sake of the liberation of others.
“Every day we experience something of the death of Jesus, so that we may also show the power of the life of Jesus in these bodies of ours” (2 Cor 4:10, JBP).
Leave a comment