Suffering and the Gospel, Part 5

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In the last instalment, we considered how the suffering of Christ paid for the sins of all who believe in Him. For those who are trusting and resting in Christ alone, judgment for sin is not a future event waiting for us after we die—it is a past event that happened finally and fully at Calvary.

But what does this mean for suffering in the lives of Christians? If suffering is a picture of the reality of sin, and Christ has paid for that sin, why would we still need to suffer? If suffering is a warning about coming judgement, and Christ has taken that judgement for us, what role could suffering still have for a Christian? If suffering is meant to drive us to repentance, and if we have repented and trusted Christ, then surely there is no further reason for Christians to suffer?

The logic being these questions is sound. And one day, because of the cross, we will experience a suffering-free eternity:

Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning nor crying nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.” And he who was seated on the throne said, “Behold, I am making all things new.” (Rev 21:1-5)

Because of the cross, the suffering of God’s people will end. The question is, when? And the answer is, not yet.

Already, Not Yet

As we’ve been recently exploring in our sermon series in Matthew 11, you and I live in the “already-but-not-yet.” The Messiah has come and inaugurated the kingdom, but its final consummation still awaits. Jesus healed the sick and raised the dead, but John the Baptist still languished in prison (Matt 11:1-6). The decisive victory against Satan was won by Christ on the cross (Col 2:15), and yet we are still waiting for our enemy’s final destruction (1 Cor 15:24-25). We are already new creations (2 Cor 5:17), yet we groan in these mortal bodies (2 Cor 5:1-4). There is a glory that will be revealed in us, but in the meantime we do suffer (Rom 8:18).

As Rich Mullins put it, when Jesus was born “the old world started dying and the new world started coming on.” We live between these two worlds, in the tension between the already and the not yet.

And we find that in this season, while not everything had changed, neither have things remained the same. The realities of the old world have not been fully removed, but they have been transformed. We see this when we consider our relationship with sin, suffering, and death, realities that were conquered at the cross and will be removed in the new creation. In the meantime, wile they are still a part of our existence, our experience of them has been permanently altered.

Consider sin. Before we were born again, we were dead in sins (Eph. 2:1) and in slavery to it (Rom 6:17). In the New Creation, sin will be no more (1 Jn 3:2, 1 Cor 15:42-54, Rev. 22:3). In the meantime, in the in-between of the already-but-not-yet, sin still plagues us. But instead of being enslaved to it, we’ve been set free from its power (Rom 6:18). It’s still around, but instead of being our master, it’s now an enemy combatant, a sword has been put into our hands, and we’ve been told to put it to death (Rom 8:13).

The same is true with death. Before redemption, death was the end, the inescapable doorway to judgment (Rom 6:23, Heb 9:27). In the New Creation, death will be no more (1 Cor 15:53-54, Rev 21:4). In the time between, we do not escape death—but our relationship with it is drastically changed. It is no longer the end (Jn 11:25-26). Instead of just an enemy, death is now an ally that ushers us directly into the presence of our Lord (Phil 1:21-23). Because of the death and resurrection of Jesus, death is no longer a loss but a gain.

And the same goes for suffering. Before we knew Christ, suffering told us of our sin and warned us of our judgement. In the New Creation, suffering will be eradicated. Until then, suffering is not removed from our lives. But our relationship with suffering, and its significance in our lives, is permanently altered. In order to draw this out, let’s consider Romans 8:18-24.

Groaning in Hope

Romans 8:18 says, “For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us.” Suffering, for those who are in Christ, has become something small and temporary. There is a glory coming, and it is so great that our present suffering doesn’t hold a candle to it.

The next verses situate our present suffering in the broader context of creation. “For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the sons of God. For the creation was subjected to futility” (Rom 8:19-20). That “futility” is the curse of Genesis 3. The creation didn’t do this to itself. Neither did Adam, or even Satan.

As the rest of verse 20 explains, the creation was subjected to futility “not willingly, but because of him who subjected it, in hope.” Yes, God brought the creation crashing down around Adam as a portrayal of his sin, but that was not creation’s final role in this drama. As verse 21 goes on to say, God subjected the creation to futility in hope “that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to decay, and obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God” (Rom 8:21). Just as the creation has displayed the horrors of human sin, so it will one day display the beauty of our final redemption. Unchained from the curse, all things made new, creation will be finally free and fully glorious.

Until then, it waits. And while it waits, it suffers. But the future hope transforms the present hurt, as verse 22 explains so poignantly: “We know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now.” The suffering of creation—every earthquake and famine, every red tooth and claw—is like groaning, but a groaning that leads not to death. It is the groaning of a woman in childbirth. She is in pain, but a pain that will bring about new life.

And according to verse 23, this is not just true for creation, but for all of us who are in Christ: “And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies” (Rom 8:23).

We groan along with creation—meaning that our groaning is the groaning of childbirth. And this is a most stunning transformation. To the unrepentant sinner, the sufferings of this world are death throes, forebodings and warnings of final destruction. But to those who are in Christ, the suffering we experience are but the birth pangs of the new creation. John Piper describes this amazing transformation with the following illustration:

If you are in a hospital and you hear a woman across the hall groan or scream, it makes all the difference in how you feel if you know you are on the maternity ward and not the oncology unit. Why? Pain is pain, isn’t it? No. Some pain leads to life. And some pain leads to death. And what verse 22 promises is that for the children of God, all pain leads to life. All the groanings of this world are the birth pains of the kingdom of God. If you are part of the kingdom – a child of the King – all your sufferings are labor pains and not death spasms. And I mean all of them – even the death spasms!¹

Glorious Transfer

These words are profound to me, because I’ve been in both situations. I’ve stood beside my mom in the oncology ward as she cried out in pain from the cancer that was eating her body away from the inside, and I’ve held my wife’s hand in the delivery room as she sweat and cried and pushed for dear life to bring our three children into the world. I’ve seen the pain that leads to death, and the pain that leads to life. And Romans 8:22 is telling us that, in Christ, all of our pain is pain that leads to life.

When Jesus saved us, he did not immediately remove suffering from our life—but he did something no less stunning: he transferred us from the palliative ward to the maternity ward.

I find this perspective so helpful in its utter realism. Ask any mother, particularly those who did not have anesthetic, and she will tell you that childbirth was an indescribably painful experience. But she will also tell you how those sufferings were eclipsed by the overwhelming joy of holding her new child in her arms.

Similarly, choosing to see our suffering in the light of eternity is not some mind game we play to try and make things feel better. We’re not saying “it’s not that bad.” It is that bad—and the glory towards which we are hastening will be infinitely better.

So lift your eyes, suffering Christian. Your suffering is all about the gospel, which we’ve come to learn is not just a private business, but a cosmic drama that encompasses all of creation. Christ has died, Christ has risen, and Christ will come again. In the meantime, we suffer, but not a palliative-ward kind of suffering; Jesus has transferred us to the delivery room of hope. Cancer, car accidents, catastrophes of all kinds—these are no longer threats of impending judgment, but preverberations of new life. Each experience of suffering is one push closer to the sweet rest of the new creation.

So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal. (2 Cor 4:16–18).