Redeeming Our Suffering

 The past month, I've been reading a fascinating book on the life of Reformer Martin Luther. I have unexpectedly learned a lot about medieval culture and spirituality, causing me to notice things about Luther's life and times that had previously escaped my view. Recently, I came to the part of the book that describes his ten-month captivity in the Wartburg castle - put into forced seclusion by caring supporters who wanted to preserve his life, Luther went from well-known theology professor, passionate preacher, prolific writer, and bold speaker to hidden recluse who had no human contact except for a few people at the castle and three other friends who knew where he was hiding out. To the rest of the public, the brave Luther might as well have been dead. His life for the better part of a year became a simple room. It was quite the change for someone used to busying himself about God's business. At first, the quiet and the lack activity nearly drove Martin crazy but, over time, he began to discover a unique peacefulness as he was serenaded by the chirping birds and took in the view of the countryside out his windows. When he had been "captured" (friends had hatched a plan to "kidnap" Luther so he could be taken to this safe location away from the authorities who wanted the guy dead for his supposed heretical views on religion), Luther had grabbed two books to take with him: his Greek New Testament and his Hebrew bible. In the solitude of this cold, damp castle, all Luther could do with himself was spend time in prayer, contemplation, and reading the scriptures. And yet, this period of time out of public view would prove to be monumental in the life of Luther and the history of the Gospel. For it was during these ten months that Luther would produce some of his most influential writing. He managed to procure his most important unfinished writings from the friends who knew his whereabouts and began to take paper to pen. As he put it, "throwing ink at the Devil," meaning that he was fighting spiritual battles from his tiny room with merely pen and paper. In just eleven weeks, Luther translated the entire New Testament into his native German tongue, allowing the common people to read the Word of God which, until that point, was only available in Latin - a language which only the educated could read and understand. The Bible was freed to go and do its work. 
 As I thought about this, I realized that there have been many others throughout history who have done their greatest good from a prison cell: Puritan preacher Thomas Case penned his most well-known work A Treatise On Afflictions while being held captive in the famed Tower of London; John Bunyan wrote perhaps the greatest allegorical piece of Christian literature ever: Pilgrim's Progress while in jail for preaching the Gospel; the Apostle Paul churned out several of his letters to churches (which later became part of the Bible) from a prison cell, rejoicing in his opportunity to glorify Christ by his chains, and the Apostle John wrote the book of Revelation while secluded on the Isle of Patmos. The list goes on and on of those who redeemed their suffering and accepted a season of quiet from the hand of God, being content to do their work privately and in solitude if that was God's will. 
 All this got me thinking: how well do we redeem our suffering? How do we handle the seasons of waiting, the seasons of quiet, that God brings to us? So often, I believe we think we can only be productive for God if we're busy. Activity constitutes success for the Lord, supposedly. But I'm honestly not sure if that's really true. Because these individuals listed above certainly weren't busy in terms of a full schedule while in prison. Unlike the prison experience of today, there weren't any perks or benefits to being in jail. Cells were cold, damp, rodent-infested, and dimly-lit. It was a lonely and unpleasant place to be. Yet, the words of Life flowed. Their spirits rejoiced in God. They made use of their quiet to the praise and honor of the Kingdom. 
 Luther himself gave his reflections on this in a letter to a friend as he wrote from the Wartburg: 
"Behold, the hand of the Mighty One of Jacob, what it accomplishes
while we are silent, suffer, and pray. Is not the word of Moses true,
'You will be silent and the Lord will fight for you.'"

On another occasion, he would again inquire of one of his friends,

"Are you not praying for me that his retreat to which I 
unwillingly consented may result in something great 
for God's glory?"

 If Luther had his way initially, he would've gladly kept on fighting his battles against doctrinal error and never been hidden away, but he realized that God was working through the care of his friends to preserve his life for a purpose of some further work he was meant to do. It begs the question with each of these people mentioned earlier: had God not hidden them away for a time, would the works which they produced have come to fruition at all? 
 Sometimes the sovereignty of God goes against conventional wisdom. What seems logical to us - to busy ourselves about much serving for God...to be active all the time at our church, to volunteer for every opportunity we possibly can, to work our tails off to serve everyone at any time in any place, to jump on planes and fly to foreign countries on mission trips, etc...maybe these things (while good in an of themselves) just hinder what God is really after in our lives which is our attention. Maybe He wants to do something even bigger than all these, but we can't hear him or accomplish what He desires because we're too busy. And, when He places these seasons of down time on us (loss of job, illness, etc), we think we're not doing any good for Him because we can't run around for Him like we want to. We get restless and frustrated that it's just too quiet and lonely. But just maybe His season of silence is a gift in disguise. Maybe there's a more hidden work for us to do that we haven't yet discovered. 
 I don't know what this post will mean for you personally in regards to how God will apply this in your life, but I know that this idea has definitely gotten me rethinking how I schedule my time and how I approach seasons of suffering and silence. Perhaps God can equally be glorified by our willingness to be silent and let Him fight for us as our willingness to charge into battle for Him. Maybe He is as much, if not more so, honored when we listen, watch, and pray in a season of quiet as when we busy ourselves with service for Him publicly. Don't fight a season of retreat in your life, and don't be afraid to withdraw for awhile to re-connect with God's purposes for you. And don't mistake activity for actual productivity. Because God may be up to something far different than you think. 

Comments