“No One Knows the Trouble I’ve Seen”

God does, and he not only knows it but is guiding you through it.

Our son, when he was a young teenager, participated in a local church’s Bible-quizzing program. It took him all around the country, beginning first as a quizzer, but then later as a judge at competitions. He memorized major parts of the Bible, in some cases entire books, and I have to say, it was one of the best things we saw him sign up for. How else is a young man to guard his heart than to hide God’s Word there?

One evening at dinner, he told us he was working on the Epistle of James. He said that much of the faith truly came together for him with that exercise. The letter’s practicality, urgency, and dynamic call to live as a Christian as a result of being a Christian made a difference for him that I’ll not forget.

James’s letter is challenging. It begins with a well-known though difficult-to-swallow exhortation: counting it all joy when we come head to head with trials, just because of their purpose—that is, they test our faith in order to produce steadfastness—a kind of immovability. And steadfastness has a purpose as well. It perfects us, it completes us. Not that it makes us perfect. That won’t happen until all’s said and done. But steadfastness, though sanctifying in itself, leads to further sanctification. It makes us more God-centered. It promotes holiness, and as a result of that, makes us more useful to God for the furtherance of his kingdom.

All Joy, Really?

It’s the first part that typically gives us trouble—counting it all joy when trials come our way. James is telling his readers, and us, to look beyond our circumstances, however dire they may appear to be. The worldly philosopher scoffs at such an exhortation: How are we to face and overcome our circumstances if we look beyond them? There you Christians go with your pie-in-the-sky naiveté. But the worldly philosopher doesn’t have the spiritual equipment to say anything other than this. For him, there is no purpose for a trial other than solving it as a problem, and in such a way, hopefully, so as not to have to face that problem, or at least its most ornery parts, again. Of course, there are trials that are insoluble in this life, to which the worldly philosopher has no answer whatsoever. But the Christian does.

There’s wisdom in facing our circumstances, certainly. But is that all there is? Is that everything we need to know about a problem or challenge when it presents itself? Scripture says no. There’s a bigger picture. Our difficulty as Christians is when we’re dragged down by a trial and can’t seem to fix it. But we’re told that this is the time to raise our heads up from its nitty-gritty difficulty to understand that the trial, and even its solution, doesn’t define us. Who we are as believers in Christ is bigger than the trial, and God, in his providential sovereignty, has included that trial in who we are in Christ for purposes beyond our knowing at the time, though we can know it will be for our good. Often, we come to see that later on.

There’s a purpose to it. Realizing this takes the onus from the trial as the central pressure point or difficulty in life. Our heavenly Father’s provision for us in Christ, and not the trial, then, defines us, regulates our behavior in response to the trial, and gives us hope not only that we’ll prevail through it but that we’ll be better because of it.

Bigger Picture

Counting this all joy doesn’t mean jumping for joy when bad or unexpectedly challenging things happen. It means seeing those bad things as integral to what God has for us, which if we are in Christ will inevitably lead to the good. The trial may reroute us, change us, teach us things we need to learn for our betterment, our usefulness, and for God’s glory. Moreover, appreciating this bigger picture does not mean we are paralyzed as a response to the trial—what the worldly philosopher may presume of Christians—but provides us with perspective to better solve or surmount problems arising from the trial.

In America, this kind of thinking as a scriptural concept has even been secularized, especially in challenging pursuits such as sports, entertainment, or business. We lose in order to win next time. We fail in order to learn what we need to in order to succeed. That’s not precisely what James is teaching. But it’s an adaptation of it, even though the focus in this case is often on self instead of on God. When it’s on God, it gets even better.

This word from James is important because people, including Christians, so often buckle when trials come their way. This word is important also because it is often misunderstood. When Christians get discouraged, they may be at the verge of giving up or shutting down. James tells us that when bad or unexpected things happen to us, there’s a bigger picture to consider. God is at work. That’s why he writes that we should count it all joy—in other words, lift up our heads, even in the midst of trial—and keep stepping forward in faith, knowing God has a plan for us that’s for good and not for evil. That assurance is where the joy comes from—not a skip-to-my-Lou joy, but a deep, knowing, entrenching joy that comes from assurance.

Not Just James

Other Scriptures that corroborate this are too numerous to list, but here are a few. In Hebrews 12, we’re told that God disciplines us as sons. If he didn’t discipline us—just let us go our own way—we wouldn’t be sons at all. I disciplined my sons when they were home, but not my neighbor’s sons. They weren’t mine to discipline. You see what’s going on here? God corrects us as his children. That hurts, sometimes in a way that may even make us question our Father’s love. But that’s where our faith comes in. God is doing something great in us, because he loves us as his children.

Likewise, Paul writes to the Romans that all things work together for good to those who love God and are called according to his purpose (Rom. 8:28). You may say, well, you don’t know the trouble I’ve seen. True, I don’t. But we can focus on the trial or on where God is and will be leading us because of it. That’s what Paul did. He was imprisoned, beaten, shipwrecked, persecuted, chased out of town (2 Cor. 11). If anyone had a reason to complain about his job, more than that, his life, it was the apostle; and yet he says that all the things he faced were nothing compared with the eternal weight of glory that awaited him (2 Cor. 4:17). You and I may not have the calling Paul did, nor his caliber of faith. But like Paul, we are called to be God’s people and have been provided faith, a gift of God, which, when exercised, confirms us to be exactly that—God’s people, destined for glory.

Remember the Lord Jesus’ analogy in John 15? He is the true vine, we’re the branches, and the Father? He’s the vinedresser. What’s that mean? It means he prunes the branches. Ouch! Not to punish them or watch them squirm, but so they bear more fruit. God redirects our attention to the things that really matter, so we don’t waste our time and energies—as short as life is—on the things that don’t. He wants us to bear fruit, to be more like his Son, to demonstrate the new creation he’s made us to be, to bloom where we’re planted, and thereby live out the kingdom and so become an instrument for its deepening and extension—no matter who we are or what our calling in life may be.

But What About . . . ?

“But,” we may exclaim, “God doesn’t prune the dead branches!” No, he doesn’t. Why should he? They’re dead, and won’t be bearing any fruit at all, whether little or much. They’re already destined for the fire pit. We certainly wouldn’t want that for the sake of not being pruned, would we? Remember Job? He had no idea what God was doing, with his children killed, his resources stolen or destroyed, his wife turning against him, and his so-called friends trying to provide answers that were of no help either. He was confused, bewildered, and grieving, and yet he could say that even though God slay him, that he would trust him (Job 13:15).

He knew who God was, and so knew that God sat over all the circumstances Job was experiencing. Moreover, as profound as his suffering was, he also looked ahead, and not just at his own present circumstances. That’s why he could say that once God was done with whatever he was doing in Job’s life, and for whatever reason—which Job didn’t know either—then Job would come forth as gold (Job 23:10). Can you say that? If you’re a Christian, you should be able to.

Trials of various kinds, James writes, whether that means your car broke down while on vacation or whether you just learned that you have a serious illness, or perhaps experienced the sudden, untimely death of a loved one. Maybe you got let go from your job, or your business has failed for unexpected reasons. Don’t think God has abandoned you. He hasn’t. There are bigger things going on. And he’s at work in you as you are in Christ.

Mr. Gerry Wisz is writer, college instructor, and semiretired public relations professional who, with his family, is a member of Preakness Valley URC in Wayne, NJ.