I know we often talk about the uplifting stuff here, but sometimes we need to lean into the difficult parts of life too. After all, it’s the trying times that really test and shape us, right?

Let’s start by acknowledging something none of us can escape: suffering. Yup, you read that right. I’m talking about those not-so-welcome surprises that crash into our lives like uninvited guests at a party. One moment you’re coasting along, and the next, you’re floored by some piece of news or a life-changing event. You didn’t choose this; you didn’t see it coming. So what now?

Well, the truth is, we all suffer. It’s an unfortunate but undeniable part of the human experience. But how we respond to suffering—that’s what sets us apart. It’s easy to lose composure, to question your faith, and, let’s be real, sometimes even to lose that uplifting smile. But to go through the valleys and still keep your eyes on God? That’s something to write home about. It’s like taking life’s lemons and not just making lemonade, but throwing in a sprig of mint and a dash of honey too! It’s your choice to make the bitter experience a little sweeter.

We often view success and good fortune as milestones, markers that indicate we’re moving in the right direction. But let’s flip the script for a second. Pain and suffering can be just as transformative, if not more so. Ever noticed how suffering re-calibrates your internal compass? Your values get a shakeup; priorities shift like tectonic plates; even your dreams and goals can morph into something entirely different, and that’s okay! You’re not going off course; you’re just taking a scenic route you didn’t plan for.

I’m reminded of the story of Joseph in the Bible. Talk about having a hard time, huh? Betrayed by his brothers, sold into slavery, falsely accused, and imprisoned. Man, he had every reason to give up and let suffering define him. But he didn’t. He kept his faith in God, stayed composed, and even managed to interpret dreams in prison. His suffering wasn’t a pitfall; it was a stepping stone to becoming the second most powerful man in Egypt. His pain wasn’t an accident; it was a part of his purpose.

Now, I’m not saying suffering is easy or enjoyable. It’s not. And it’s perfectly normal to ask, “Why me?” or “Why now?” But let’s also ask, “What can I learn from this?” Because if you’re going through hell, why stop there? Keep going until you get to the other side, where the lessons and growth are. Don’t waste your pain; use it to propel you to new heights.

Your pain is your story, and stories are meant to be told. You might not see it now, but your experience can be the beacon that guides someone else through their storm. You’ll be the proof that one can suffer and still keep their faith, their composure, and yes, even their smile. Your pain is changing you, but that doesn’t mean it’s diminishing you. It’s chiseling away at the rough edges, sculpting you into a masterpiece in progress. And trust me, God doesn’t make mistakes; He makes masterpieces.

So let’s own our sufferings, not as roadblocks but as part of our journey. They’re the chapters that make our life stories rich, relatable, and remarkably human. And always remember: it’s the trials and tests that make the testimony. Stay strong, keep the faith, and don’t forget to smile. Life might be tough, but so are you.

Until next time, keep smiling!

So here is a lament for Uvalde. It’s godly sorrow. Heartbreaking. Emotionally crushing. And so applicable to the tragedy.

At this writing, the funerals have begun. We are all impacted, and while we don’t grieve in the same way as those who lost loved ones, we still grieve.

I don’t know how I should respond, but I will offer some thoughts. We certainly can all use some comfort right now.

Disclaimer: If you’re looking for some sort of political or policy statement from me, you obviously don’t know me. I ain’t going there. I do have some strong, even passionate opinions, but this isn’t the place. This is a time for lament for Uvalde.

Maybe we can help each other cry.

1. We can show empathy with our laments. When we get horrific news, we can easily be overwhelmed. This is normal – shock, disbelief, even physical sickness can be present. We say things like “I can’t imagine what those mamas, daddies, family members, friends are going through.” That statement, of course, is true. Even if you’ve faced unimaginable tragedy, you aren’t in the same place as those others are. You might rightfully wonder how you’d react if you were there, but you can’t know unless you experience it first hand. Still – empathy does put us in a place of caring and, in some fashion, helps us imagine. I’m a parent and a grandparent, and that’s my point of empathy.
2. We can respond with “thoughts and prayers.” This action is part of lamenting, but in our culture the idea of “thoughts and prayers” seems pretty lame in the eyes of many. “We need to do something!” folks cry. Agreed. I’ll touch on that in a minute. But immediately after a tragedy, what else do you have? What else can you offer? Thoughts and prayers are totally appropriate. When evil intrudes, it’s entirely possible to push back through prayer. As believers, prayers offer courage and fortitude. Prayer is instinctual. And it’s okay to pray for yourself. That’s not being selfish. That’s just acknowledging you need Jesus. And I’d encourage you to ask others to join you in prayer. We can corporately offer a lament for Uvalde.
3. Lament doesn’t mean that you are asking God to instantaneously set all things right. He could do that, I suppose, but rather than asking Him to fix things, how about just focusing on His mercy for those hurt in the tragedy first?
4. Some questions that would bring about lament would include “Why do wicked people so often have their way, and good and godly people suffer?” In the most agonizing way, it’s accusing God of not acting or intervening. But – this is not necessarily being blasphemous. It’s really a part of faith. Jesus expressed this lament from the cross: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” It is simply being honest and allowing your soul to cry out.
5. God is patient with evil. Sometimes it seems as if evil flourishes unchecked. This is a hard one. It’s a primary reason that many never pursue Christ.  All about us, we see evil personified. This is one forevermore fallen world, and we are here in this place for a season. Here’s a paradox, though: In the midst of suffering, heartache, violence, and pure wickedness, the grace of God flourishes. When we experience the worst, we still see evidences of goodness, holiness, compassion, and healing. Jesus’ cry from the cross I mentioned above? At the crucifixion and those days in the grave, we see man’s worst and God’s best. God offered salvation, and He did it by showing His power to bring life from death. It’s never too late to pray for healing and redemption.
6. Deeds, not words? How about both? You might not be able to be physically present, and therefore can’t do anything “hands on,” but that’s where prayer comes in. We don’t need to think about acting in any fashion without praying first. If we act without prayer, we can’t empathize. That’s part of our lament for Uvalde.
7. Lament means that there is no collision of ideals between praying and acting. Is it possible to pray without acting or act without praying? Sure it is, but they don’t cancel each other out. Because …
8. It is wrong for us, as believers, to act instead of praying. That implies that true goodness can grow from somewhere else besides God, Who is the only One Who is truly good. Sure, it’s possible to do good deeds, and act with integrity. I’d contend that, for those of us who are believers, that not praying before acting is putting the spiritual cart before the horse. Now, people who don’t share our faith won’t agree. For us, we defer to the wisdom of God first. Then we act. Please don’t misunderstand – there are times when you do act before praying – if your child has wandered out in the street in front of an oncoming car, you don’t need to pray about rescuing him. You know what I mean.

How much more grief can this old world stand? How long shall we lament for Uvalde?

As a believer, remember we follow the Suffering Servant. He is also the Wounded Healer. There is so much we don’t understand, and this side of eternity, will not understand. Still, God’s goodness isn’t up for debate. Against the backdrop of the Cross, I accept – even when I can’t understand – that He loves this world more than I ever could.

I wish I had some way of putting a nice bow on today’s blog, to offer some sort of closure. I just don’t have anything to offer right now.

Come Lord Jesus.

Talk later.

I went to bed last night brokenhearted.

For a whole host of reasons, I can’t give details as to why I’m brokenhearted. It’s a combination of factors, which are primarily out of my hands. It’s grief compounded upon grief, and it’s not because of something I’ve done personally. Rather, it’s an awareness of what sin does.

This morning I awoke just as brokenhearted as I was at bedtime. I turned to God for comfort, direction, and wisdom. And as He’s prone to do – boom! He served up just exactly what I needed. That’s the way He rolls.

It all sprang from a verse in Isaiah – Isaiah 57:15, to be exact. This verse just cried out to be unpacked, and here’s my takeaways.

The question for us today is simple: Is your heart hurting today?

Check this out, from the New Living Translation:

The high and lofty one who lives in eternity, the Holy One, says this: “I live in the high and holy place with those whose spirits are contrite and humble. I restore the crushed spirit of the humble and revive the courage of those with repentant hearts.”

It’s acceptable and encouraged to do the whole “breathe in, breathe out” routine while reading this and evaluating the state of your heart right now. As you wade into this, understand that feeling the presence of God in this very moment is what is called for.

Look. I don’t know of anyone who would willingly choose to experience a broken heart. The jaw-dropping reality, and what all my ponderings today hinge on, is that Jesus willingly suffered and died in our place so that He could reign as high priest in heaven.

He knows just exactly what it’s like to be brokenhearted. He’s been there. Isn’t that something?

The implications are huge.

What this means is that you can cry in His embrace, as a hurtin’ puppy, and know that if you’re brokenhearted He catches every tear.

One handicap we have, though, is that it’s easy and tempting to ignore the pain of a broken heart. You know, just soldier on, eyes fixed ahead, unbowed and determined. That sounds noble, but it’s not really a good idea, especially if you want to be authentic.

See, there’s a healing process when you bring your brokenheartedness to Jesus, and it’s a necessity for spiritual health, growth, and comfort.

Jesus is ready to comfort you, and it’s personally bewildering as to why I don’t lean into Him when I’m hurting.

There is a blessing that comes from pain. I know, right? That’s counterintuitive. Still, it’s that crystalline hurt that pushes us toward God and we experience His love in a way we simply can’t otherwise. It’s a blessing for those of us who are brokenhearted. 

It’s actually kind of crazy, in a good way. If we let ourselves hold back and try to nurse our own wounds, we stifle that supernatural healing and restoration He wants us to experience. We just can’t  let that hurt keep us from drawing close to Him.

He wants us to pour out our pain to Him so that His words can be balm to our souls.

I’m amazed, even after all these years of walking with God, that He sent Jesus to die for me. This is so fundamental, so basic, and yet we in our familiarity skate right past the most profound truth imaginable. 

Our requests to God might include:

• Give me courage to walk through this painful valley. There is a purpose to me being here.
• I want to hear Your voice – a whisper is fine, but if You need to holler to get my attention, that’s fine too.
• Reveal Your heart to me. I thought I could discern it when things were going well, but apparently You’ve had to get out the big guns.
• I believe You’re preparing a good and right path for me, but that doesn’t mean it’s all flat ground and no rocks.
• Don’t let me pull away from You in my grief and suffering. My mouth wants to say “whatever it takes,” but I tend to choke on those words. I’ll need some help with this one.
• Remind me of Your love and compassion. It’s so easy for me to forget those basics.

I don’t know how you visualize God – what your mental image of Him is. It’s different for everyone. It’ll be helpful if you could do that, even right now. Just soak in that sweet space.

Remind yourself that God loves you unconditionally. He’s totally faithful. 

There may be some things in your heart that need to be cleaned out – things that are hampering that blessing that will ease your brokenhearted spirit. Even in times of pain and brokenness you’re still blessed.

God doesn’t want you to deny your pain. If you’re brokenhearted, He wants you to draw near to Him with no holds barred.

Check out Isaiah 57:15 in the English Standard Version:

For thus says the One who is high and lifted up, who inhabits eternity, whose name is Holy: “I dwell in the high and holy place, and also with him who is of a contrite and lowly spirit, to revive the spirit of the lowly, and to revive the heart of the contrite.”

More good stuff: Because God knows all the details of your broken heart, and when you cry He’s right there saving your tears, you are not alone in your brokenness. What a gift that is! He understands your situation completely and is standing by your side through it all.

And here’s a monster truth, to make things even sweeter: There is a gift of hope from Jesus that He can lift your spirit again, just as He rose again after and during the heartbreak of the Cross. Brokenhearted? Claim this.

Let’s do Isaiah 57:15 one more time, this time from the Amplified Bible:

For the high and exalted One, He who inhabits eternity, Whose name is Holy says this, “I dwell on the high and holy place, but also with the contrite and humble in spirit In order to revive the spirit of the humble and to revive the heart of the contrite [overcome with sorrow for sin].”

That last phrase really captures what it means to be contrite – overcome with sorrow for sin.

This version talks about sorrow over sin. Is that not often the cause of us being brokenhearted? This can be a scary thought.

It may be that the last time you were brokenhearted was simply because of your own personal sin. Through that, God showed you more about Himself through your brokenness. He doesn’t want you to just know facts about Him. He wants to draw you really close, and conviction of sin can absolutely take you to that place of intimacy. 

He doesn’t fail you. He doesn’t leave you or forsake you. But He will absolutely use brokenheartedness to make us right. 

If there’s something about pain you need to know, it’s this: God will take you into a deeper relationship with Him than you can imagine, but it’ll hurt in the process. You’ll be brokenhearted. So instead of running from the pain, you lean into it, take it to God (and don’t try to excuse or sugarcoat it), and every single time He’ll bring depths of beauty out of it.

Jesus endured pain so that we could have a relationship with Him. Do this:

• Ask Him to comfort and heal your heart. Now.
• Ask Him to remove anything you’ve done wrong.
• Ask Him to let you experience His nearness in a fresh way. 
• Ask Him to restore your peace, joy, and hope.

If the pain in your heart throbs again and you find yourself brokenhearted, remind yourself of this simple truth: God is near.

Talk later.

God allows you (and me) to suffer. Ever wonder why?

That’s a tough one. While I’ve addressed this in my blog before, it bears revisiting. Man, I hate to even bring it up. And yet – folks sure do seem to be hurting a lot these days. They’re frustrated, afraid, and wear worry like a shroud. 

I’d be presumptuous to try to define suffering for you – what is agonizing for you might not be a big deal for me, and vice-versa. 

Those questions – why is this happening to me? Is God testing me? – can be mighty troubling, especially when answers don’t seem to be forthcoming. 

If God allows you to suffer, something is happening. And we don’t ask those questions when things are going well. 

We ask them when we’re hurting, backed into a corner, and when in general life is going badly.

There are also degrees of suffering. If the AC goes out in our house in August, and fans just don’t move the air around, then I might say that I’m suffering. If I sprain my ankle, I might call that suffering. If I have cancer and I’m racked by excruciating pain, that’s suffering, right? If someone I love is dying of some dread disease, and I’m watching their life flow away in a toxic stream, then both of us might well be suffering. 

If you’re a believer, then God allows you to suffer, too, and your faith in Christ doesn’t mean a grief-free life.That, incidentally, is one reason many folks just reject Christianity outright. 

Y’all, there’s a tenet of our faith that we often overlook or ignore, and it can strike into the heart of the very devout. Intellectually, you may know better, but when life happens, all that ethereal head knowledge can just vanish. You are going to suffer, and God is going to allow it. 

Many Christians, perhaps even most, believe that if they are God’s child, then things should go well. Suffering? Nope. They think they’re exempt. I mean, if they’re a believer, if they are living for Him, if they’re good people, then all should be fine. 

Before you get all up in my face, saying, “I know that. I understand that. That’s Chrisitianity 101,”  do a quick gut-check. Have you ever asked “Why me? What have I done? Do I have some unconfessed sin in my life and this is payback from God?”

Well, there is sowing and reaping to consider. Most of the grief in our lives we bring on ourselves because we’ve wilfully made some idiotic choices. There is, however, plenty of evidence and first-hand experience that informs us that suffering comes in spite of our wise choices, pure intentions, and relationship with God.

That God allows you to suffer is clear. But why do we suffer in this world?

I love a numbered list. Let me offer four reasons why we suffer. Maybe this will help, but in the face of such a profound and mysterious truth, I’m not going to be able to give you any fresh revelations. These are things you already know, but I’m sharing these as simple reminders. 

1. We live in a broken world, and so we struggle. Think about mental struggles – we are bombarded daily with horrific news. We spend too much time in our own heads. Our minds start kicking themselves. This, of course, dovetails with emotional struggles. We are depressed, anxious, and in a funk. See how these feed on each other? Physically? We eat wrong when we’re dealing with mental and emotional issues. We become sedentary, or else turn into gym rats, losing ourselves in fitness, running, etc. (and hear me – I’m for sure not dissing any of these disciplines. It’s just when they’re used as escape tools that we might have problems.) Finally, how about spiritual struggles? You know, when God seems distant and silent and when our prayers don’t get any further than ceiling height. All these can be evidence of our living in a broken world.
2. There is abundant evil in the world. We call that sin, and it’s in us and those around us. Sin brings suffering – ultimately, it brings death. Often we embrace sin because, let’s face it, it’s fun. For a season, anyway. It’s our sin, and others’ sin, that brings on suffering in the world. Fact.
3. God allows suffering. I can’t stress this too much. Of course He could end all suffering. Guess what? He’s going to. In the realm of the mysterious, in the providence of an all-knowing and all-loving God, suffering will be annihilated. Jesus will return. We don’t know when, and while it can be an intriguing pastime to try to discern when, the best approach is to simply say “soon,” which, of course, is true. 
4. Suffering makes God’s love and grace even that much more sweet. Think about this. Let’s say Sunday your preacher shares a sermon that talks about God’s love. You appreciate and affirm it. It gives you all the feels. But – what if a person dying with cancer in the final hours of their life talks about God’s love, don’t you think you’d respond differently? Or, perhaps, someone gets a generous and unexpected tax refund, and they say, “I’m so blessed!” Compare that to a woman in Haiti I heard about, and her most prized possession was a big bucket – she was able to cook in it, haul water in it, wash clothes in it. And she said, “I’m so blessed.” Is there a bit of a difference you see?

One of my favorite C.S. Lewis quotes comes into play as you realize God allows you to suffer:

We can ignore even pleasure. But pain insists upon being attended to. God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pains: it is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world.

A deaf world, indeed. It might just be that the world we currently live in is being molded by God into something that will really, really get our attention.

I’ve tried, over the years, not to evaluate anything in my life apart from the backdrop of the cross. If I’m suffering, and I think I’m being punished, I have to remind myself – nope, Jesus took my punishment. Or if I’m tempted to think that God doesn’t care, then I remind myself – hey, Tony, God does care. He’s lost a son because He loved you. 

I suppose when you resolutely deal with knowing God allows you to suffer, you come to understand that God loves you definitively because of Calvary.

He will use the junk you’re going through for your good and the good of those around you. You will never walk alone. 

We are going to suffer in this world. Count on that. We don’t have to wish it on ourselves – that’s sort of weird – but we need to be ready for it. We can love God in good times, and we can love God when we’re hurting. And we should call others to share in the ultimate victory that Jesus won for us … because He, too, suffered. 

Talk later!

Maybe you aren’t suffering. Perhaps you have in the past. If not, you will in the future.

Suffering is part of the human condition. There’s no escaping it. It won’t go away.

And, believer, you aren’t exempt from it. If anything, suffering is more common to Christians than not. That is typically not a part of a Christian evangelistic plea: “Acknowledge that you’re a sinner. Pray to receive Christ, believing He is Savior and Lord. Confess those sins and inherit eternal life. And suffer for the rest of your earthly days.”

Maybe you like to keep it real, just not that real.

These are tough days. I’m not going to rehash the challenges of the moment, other than acknowledging that things are in a mess. What intrigues me so is that it’s not just Tony challenges, or family challenges, or even national challenges. We are talking universal global challenges. My stars.

In spite of universal suffering, it’s still personal. Pain has come home to your private roost.

So here are the questions, and if you say you’ve never asked any of these, I’ll bet you’d lie about other things too. (That’s a joke. Sort of.)

• Why does God allow me to suffer?
• Why is this happening to me?
• Is God testing me?

These may be personal questions, or questions on behalf of your family, or even on a broader scale.

Suffering isn’t easy. It’s unwelcome and disruptive and unwelcome. It can be crushing.

Folks don’t ask those questions when things are going their way. Why should they? When life is good, when you’re being blessed, when every day is full of sunshine and smiles (and maybe even rainbows and unicorns), there’s no need to even consider suffering, now is there?”

And then – boom! Ka-POW! You find yourself to be a hurtin’ puppy. Then we ask those questions.

Listen – I was raised in a Christian home and in a wonderful, nurturing church. I don’t know if this was communicated to me overtly (I’m pretty sure it wasn’t) or if it was just part of the Christian journey that wasn’t explained to me. But, subconsciously, I just felt that if I was one of God’s children, if I was doing my best to live for Him, and if I was obedient to Him and His teachings, then things would be fine. No worries, mate.

That sounds wonderful. I mean, who wouldn’t want to get in on a deal like that? Freedom from pain and suffering? Cool. Break me off a piece of that.

Only thing is, it’s not biblical. I guess we’re afraid we’ll scare people away from the faith if we spoke this particular truth.

It’s not like Jesus didn’t give us a head’s up. He told the disciples over and over what they could expect, and they stood there with their fingers shoved up their noses to the second joint, saying, “Huh?”

Us too. We say we get it, but I’m not sure we do. Because suffering is, well, bad. And then we have a come-apart when it enters our lives because it’s not supposed to be that way. So we think.

So, in response to that “why?” thing, here are three reason why we suffer. This isn’t an exhaustive list, but it does give us some pegs to hang some truths on.

1. We live in a fallen, broken world. With that comes struggles on every front – mentally, emotionally, physically, and spiritually. No arena of our lives is exempt. We get anxious and depressed – mental. We feel like crying or are at the very least numb – emotions. We get sick with cancer or Covid or a cold – physically. And God seems like He’s light years away, because we can’t hear Him, or He’s not telling us what we want to hear – spiritual. Take it back to Eden – we live in a world where things are seriously screwed up. I know it, and you know it. Things are just wrong, and we’ll call it what it is – sin.
2. There is evil in the world – personal, invasive, and personal. It’s called sin, see, and it affects us and those around us acutely. Sin brings suffering. I tell folks (and myself!!) that there is enough grief in the world without voluntarily bringing it on ourselves. My counsel, then, is “don’t sin.” Duh.
3. God allows suffering, but one day all suffering will end. I’ll file this one under “blessed hope.” Your suffering will end when you are freed from this physical existence and then spend eternity with Christ. No more suffering, pain, tears, heartache … that’s quite the deal. Or, suffering will end when Jesus returns. Not a day goes by that I don’t murmur, “Come, Lord Jesus.” I don’t think that’s cowardly in the sense I’m trying to escape my own personal challenges. I’m just tired, y’know? – and ever mindful this world is not my home. It feels more alien and uncomfortable day by day.

So what can you do about suffering?

1. You rejoice. Talk about counterintuitive! How can you rejoice when you want to assume a fetal position in the corner and stuff yourself with Ding-Dongs? Short answer is that there is no short answer. What satisfies me is that when I share in Jesus’ sufferings then I also share in His glory. There’s no comparison between the two – ancient script in Romans 8:17-18 teaches this. Part of this, too, is knowing that suffering helps you persevere through the worst of times, and equips you for potentially worse times ahead. And it may just be that how you manage personal sufferings will help others with their own suffering.
2. When you suffer, it provides a platform for the message of God’s love and grace to be shared. So share it. I have sat through plenty of Bible studies that talked about God’s love, and I get that, because it is so sweet to be loved by Him. But that teaching about God’s love might take on a different meaning if I was a person laid up in an ICU on a ventilator gasping and gurgling for every breath. I want to experience God’s love always, because, selfishly, it makes me feel good. But if my life is escaping breath by agonizing breath, I don’t want to just experience it. I want it to be tangible enough that I can take hold of it.

C.S. Lewis, as always, is helpful here, and this is one of my favorite quotes:

We can ignore even pleasure. But pain insists upon being attended to. God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pains: It is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world.”

Hey, world, God is shouting at us. Do we have ears to hear and the courage to act?

Accept the truth. Speak the truth. And embrace and walk through your suffering.

Talk later.

What do you do when God doesn’t fix things? If you’re a believer, does that fit into your worldview?

There are lots of things I wasn’t aware of when I became a Christian. My faith was shallow, because I was just a young’un in the faith. I didn’t know there were times when God doesn’t fix things. I thought if I prayed just the right kind of prayers and believed, then everything would go my way.

Lawdy. No. It doesn’t work that way. Right?

I made the comment the other day that the natural state of the Christian was suffering. (That statement is a great platform for church growth, right?) What I’ve come to understand, though, is that suffering doesn’t cancel out joy. What a paradox.

Fact is, sometimes God doesn’t answer, at least in the fashion we believe He should. It’s that old adage of God answers all prayers, either with yes, no, or wait.

“No” doesn’t suit us well. That means that in some cases, God doesn’t fix things, at least the way I wanted Him to.

Ancient script is full of this line of thinking. I don’t know why we gloss over 2 Corinthians 12:7-10, like this was something unique to the apostle Paul and not to us:

^{7 …}or because of these surpassingly great revelations. Therefore, in order to keep me from becoming conceited, I was given a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me.⁸ Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me.⁹ But he said to me, ” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.¹⁰ That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.

Paul sort of answers his own question here, because God doesn’t fix things, at least in the manner he begged Him to do.

Paul prays the same prayer three times. The first time, I just bet he believed that God would deliver. That mystery thorn? One and done.

Not.

I wonder how Paul’s prayer sounded:

“Lord, I really need you to help me. I need to have this thorn dealt with and removed. It’s awful, and painful, and I’d be much more effective for You if You’d take it away. It’s satanic.”

God responds: “Sorry, pal.”

Paul gives it another shot:

”God, really. I don’t get it. Things aren’t better. They may even be worse. I feel like I’m handicapped. I don’t see how I can serve like You want me to. I’d be a much more effective leader, teacher, and friend. I know You can deal with this thing, once and for all. Can I count on You to be God and bring glory to Yourself by delivering me?”

God says, “Your prayers are noted. Carry on.”

Paul, round three:

”Almighty God, I know when Jesus died He took all our sins on Himself on the cross. If I’m in sin in some way, and that’s why You aren’t dealing with this horrific thorn, then please forgive me. I repent. I’m in such awful pain, and I don’t know how long I can go on like this. I’m begging, in Jesus’ name … heal me and take this away from me.”

And God said, “I don’t guess you get it. Here’s what you need to learn: My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.“

Paul says, “Roger that.”

Here’s our lesson, and it’s a good one to embrace. Hard, but good. It’s what we need to learn when we think God doesn’t fix things:

• When you’re weak and it the lowest of lows, guess what – you actually are strong.
• God understands when you’re crushed by grief, when you’re about to lose it, when you’re frustrated to the max, and you are at the end of your proverbial rope.
• The transaction is for you to exchange your weakness for His strength. It’s totally okay to admit you ain’t got what it takes.
• You are part of The Plan. You may not be privy to it, but that’s okay, too. Just accept the ride.
• Here’s your word for the day: Release.
• Be well. Be blessed.

Comments appreciated!

What would it mean to be a pawn in God’s chess game?

That makes it sound like God takes delight in moving us around as it pleases Him.

I never have been much of a chess player, but I do know that pawns can be expendable. They can be sacrificed for the greater good of the overall game.

I won’t go into any detail here, because it’s none of your business, but there was a season in my life when I said aloud, “I don’t know if God’s won or Satan’s won. All I know is that I lost.”

No fun. Nossir.

So if you feel like you are a pawn in God’s chess game, does that mean that you’re caught in events beyond your control, manipulated by God or Satan?

You’re probably way ahead of me at this point. I’m looking at Job again.

Job has been haunting me for weeks.

The scenario is right there in Job 1. You can click on this link if you want a refresher.

This book gets at the guts of some awfully hard questions. As in … why is there evil in the world? Why is there so much pain and suffering? Why do righteous, godly people experience such heartache? The innocent suffer – how can it be?

And so on. Right there in Chapter 1, you witness this devastating account of Job, a godly, righteous, good man, losing it all. And working behind the scenes are God and Satan. Since I’m not a theologian, I won’t get too deep in these weeds, and I’d hate to lead you wrong. At first glance, however, it looks like Job is Ground Zero for some sort of cosmic game between God and Satan.

Gotta tell ya – with my flawed human vision, I sure don’t have any easy answers. I’ve consulted commentaries and drilled deep with this. I’m just bamboozled.

Now, let’s get personal. This is for you and me.

For me to say that you or I are pawns in God’s chess game puts us in Job’s shoes. You may feel that you’re forced into a situation that you would have never chosen for yourself.

That’s not fair, now is it?

I’ll give you my upbeat, positive spin first.

There is a higher way to interpret the sorrows of life rather than evaluating them in the moment. Perhaps the awful trial you’re facing is God’s way of giving you an opportunity to cooperate with Him, serve Him, get insights into His purposes and plans, and serve Him in ways you otherwise couldn’t.

Our own schemes are inadequate, because we’d never willingly choose suffering if there was an alternate path. God wants to do something more significant than what we could come up with on our own.

We can honor God by how we live and die.

Feel better yet? See why you may not be a pawn in God’s chess game?

Yeah, I here ya. “Tony, that sounds great, and I agree, but I’m still a hurtin’ puppy.”

Fact: there are a whole lot of unanswered questions I have. We puny humans want answers. We want the “why’s” dealt with.

I look at what happened to Job in Chapter 1, and I see a lot of innocent folks dying. Why did that have to happen? In this drama between Satan and God, how can you account for this bloodshed?

To even stir the pot some more, consider: Why do some righteous people have such short, tragic lives while nasty, evil people seem to get all the breaks – wealth, long lives, all that?

Or, to get really current, how can you account for the state of our world politically, morally, in health, and in lots of other issues that seem blatantly evil?

I sure don’t have a Sunday School answer for those. Not only does it seem that we might be pawns in God’s chess game – it’s like the planet itself is a chessboard.

That, for starters, is what I don’t know. But here’s what I do know, and this is what gives me comfort, peace, and hope. I want you to experience that, too.

What seems unfair in this life will be made right in eternity.

Read that again.

Understand: there is a day certain when all our problems will be solved and all of our questions will be answered. We’re just living in the “not yet.”

Regarding Satan:

God has given him some degree of freedom. Yikes! I’m not just saying that. I see it when he’s identified as the prince of this world and as the ruler of the kingdom of the air.

Satan can, and does, use the forces of nature, plagues, and wicked people. But – God has already won. He dealt Satan a fatal blow through Jesus’ death and resurrection. Still, Satan is going to work really, really hard in this world in the meantime, spreading lies and deceit. He’ll do it until the End of Days.

So what does that mean for us, those who think we’re pawns in God’s chess game?

We live in a corrupt world. No debate there, right? But if we’re believers, we have an upper hand. While there is huge tension in living here, we are controlled by God’s Spirit. We may struggle with recognizing that, but it’s absolute fact.

Because of the Spirit’s control, we have somewhere to put our absolute trust. Move in close, class. I’m fixin’ to help somebody.

We trust God. We trust in things eternal. Things like justice, mercy, and love.

Conversely, we do not trust in the temporary things of this world – things like success, wealth, fame, or, God forbid, politics, personalities, and the state of the things we see.

You still paying attention? I mean what I’m saying. 

Want more security, hope, and comfort? Here’s ancient script – Ephesians 6:12:

For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.

And Philippians 3:20:

But our citizenship is in heaven. And we eagerly await a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ.

For you and me both, we just need to quit paying lame lip service to the eternal truths of God and making them a reality as we look at the world around us.

If you feel like a pawn in God’s chess game, remember: He can see the whole board. We just see the square we’re perched on.

Be blessed.

Pain is a gift. Isn’t that just about the most counterintuitive thing you’ve ever heard?

I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately, because there are lots of hurting folks out there. Maybe you’re one of them.

Here’s what has me pondering this morning. It’s some ancient script from 1 Peter 4:12-13. It may be familiar to you, and it sort of deals with how pain is a gift:

¹² Dear friends, don’t be surprised when the fiery ordeal^[a] comes among you to test you as if something unusual were happening to you. ¹³ Instead, rejoice as you share in the sufferings of the Messiah, so that you may also rejoice with great joy at the revelation of His glory.

Really, now, Peter. Really?

Pain is a gift? Rejoice in trials and pain? Rejoice in Jesus’ suffering?

I’m not sure that’s what I signed on for back when I was 11. But that’s part of the deal.

Let’s get some points to think about as we consider how pain is a gift.

1. God is a present and healing God. He’s right there with you. All the time.
2. I’m weak. Sometimes I’m shocked at just how weak I am in matters of faith.
3. I run from pain. Heck yeah. I don’t enjoy it.
4. But – I need to look into the face of my own pain and suffering. It’s there, and ignoring it won’t help.
5. Pain helps me to share in Christ’s humanity. More about that in a minute. Understand how Jesus responded to pain – that’s what you want to learn how to do.
6. I draw close to God through pain and suffering.

Consider this: if pain is a gift, then by its nature it identifies and evidences places that need the most healing.

Pain ushers in God. It gives Him an entry point into our lives like no other.

God is the great healer. He wants us to learn that suffering brings humility and makes us more like Jesus. That’s a hard teaching, but feel free to wrestle with it, just as I have.

Humanity runs from pain, y’know? We resist it. We anesthetize it.  Medication? Bring it. But it’s only by recognizing pain that we can identify the places in our life that are the most messed up.

Here’s some medical evidence that pain is a gift. Here’s some thoughts about leprosy.

The thought of leprosy terrified me when I was younger. Maybe it was because it was so prevalent in Bible times. I remember seeing movies with leper colonies figuring in the plot. It was just flat-out scary for me.

We’ve come a long way. Leprosy is treatable, and while not eradicated, can be cured like other bacterial infections. There are about 100 cases reported in the U.S. per year.

We think about the disfigurement that leprosy causes, which is bad enough. But one awful result of leprosy is nerve damage – the loss of feeling in hands, feet, and sometimes arms and legs.

Part of that nerve damage means loss of sensation – and loss of any sense of pain.

That might seem like a gift. It’s not.

Those with untreated leprosy can’t feel the sear of a burn. They aren’t aware of cuts on the affected areas. Infection happens and they aren’t aware of it. And victims might succumb to treatable illnesses.

In that case, feeling no pain is not a gift. Pain would be a gift to a leper.

If you’re hurting, then pain is a gift because it leads you to examine yourself. Maybe even ask some hard questions.

If you’re really ambitious, take a sheet of paper. Examine your pain. Take an inventory of what’s hurting right now, and I don’t mean just physically. Jot down your emotional and spiritual pains. Where do you feel bruised and beat up?

Where does it hurt?

Pain can identify the location of an injury. It can show the place of weakness and need.

This is a good thing.

Some of us would rather numb the pain, right?

If you step on a nail barefooted, pain will shoot through the sole of your foot and up into your leg. If it’s a really bad puncture, or if it’s a gash caused by a big piece of glass, common sense would dictate that you need to go see a doctor if it’s bad enough. Heck, you might even need stitches.

If that’s the case, why do we ignore emotional pain?

If the loss of sensation that comes from leprosy were a thing emotionally, then I might want that.

However – if there were no pain and suffering, would I know the source of that suffering? I’d be like a robot, unfeeling and insensitive.

And this: without that pain I couldn’t experience the pleasures of healing by the most powerful of all doctors. I couldn’t experience the wholeness brought by the Great Physician.

It seems reasonable to pray specifically to God to give you the treatment you need.

God as Healer. That’s what He does. It gets back to showing your mama or daddy where it hurts. It’s the tenderness of that Great Physician that makes life worth living.

This side of eternity, life hurts. Wisdom comes from turning our attention from temporal pain to God’s promise of eternal healing.

This isn’t easy.

I can’t escape this. Fact is, we need to walk into our pain, look into God’s eyes, and ask for healing.

That should be my first thought and my last thought until He comes.

Tony’s question: If you’ve identified a place of real emotional or spiritual pain, what is the big risky next step you need to take to deal with it? Write your comments below. And please, share this blog with others you care about on social media.

The gift of pain and loss. I’ll bet that’s not a thought you’ve had lately. A gift? Really?

On its face, this sounds like one of the most dismal topics for blogging ever. But I’ve been thinking about this, and I’d like to share some conclusions. Pain and loss is real, and can be crippling. There are some nuances we can explore, though.

You’ve experienced pain and loss, just as I have.

We won’t get into an “Oh, yeah? My pain and loss was worse than yours. You thought yours was bad. Listen to this.”

I could tell stories, and you could too.I’d love to hear from you in the comments below. Let me unpack this for us.

1. Pain and loss transform us. That’s unquestionable, isn’t it? We aren’t the same after those painful, isolating experiences. Our response is what makes the difference in how we weather those experiences.
2. Pain and loss can unravel us. You ever feel like your life is coming apart at the seams? That’s what I’m talking about. However…
3. They can also push us to a deeper life than we ever thought possible. They make us rest in God alone. That’s it, right there. It’s all about His all-suffiency.
4. The temptation for believers is to focus on what we can do or achieve for God. Or, perhaps, focusing on what He can do or achieve for us. That’s focusing on the wrong thing, as positive as it may sound,.
5. The truth is that in pain and loss, we long to know that God is for us and with us and in us. Pain and loss can “hollow” us. We can feel isolated. Sometimes we get the sense that “no one understands, not even God.”
6. Pain and loss are often borne in silence because we don’t want to come across as whiners. I get that.
7. But – while great friends, family, wealth, and health are all wonderful gifts we can thank God for (and we should), they are not His greatest blessings.

All those blessings may make us happy, not about God, but about His gifts.

See the difference?

When we have all the “stuff,” which you have because God has seen fit to let you have it, it’s way too easy to look to the gift and forget the giver.

Job figured this out. The Lord gives and the Lord takes away.

Sobering, perhaps, but it’s part of our pilgrimage of faith. We don’t like to think about God taking away something that He Himself gave us.

Here’s God’s plan in all this. And, yeah, I understand that His ways are not our ways or our thoughts.

God will lead you through that dark valley. It’s part of the process He uses to conform us to the image of Jesus. And if pain and loss are a necessary part of that plan – and it certainly was for our Lord – then we need to brace for impact.

God’s not capricious. He doesn’t necessarily have our best interests in mind. Our best interests may be counter to His, because from the vantage point of eternity He knows what ultimately brings Him glory.

That may seem unfair to us. At that point, faith needs to kick in. It may just be mustard seed faith, but He’ll honor even that.

He wants us to depend on Him. Totally. Completely. And He will engineer circumstances so that we are made so needy that we willingly depend on Him.

I’ve heard folks say, “Well, that just makes you a puppet.”

Tony’s response? “Make me a puppet!” I can’t think of anything grander to have all my steps guided by His, to the extent that His thoughts are my thoughts and His ways are my ways!

See what that does? It takes our personal “performance” off the table.

So when you do experience pain and loss, guess what? God does and will use that. It’s a gift, because He gave it to you.

I know it’s hard to be a grateful recipient when you’re facing the bad things. I don’t have some theological secret formula to make it any easier.

But God does. He supernaturally equips you to weather the storm. Not only does He send or allow the storm, He provides the shelter that will protect you from the storm.

You’ll come to be satisfied with Him rather than what He can do for you.

O be joyful.

Today’s blog post will be short and sweet, like the old woman’s dance.

If you’re suffering now, you don’t have to pretend it’s all good.

I’m not sure what constitutes suffering. It’s an emotionally-charged word, but I think it can be too easily applied.

Your DVR not working is not suffering. Running out of mayonnaise and having to go to the store isn’t suffering.

Starving to death is suffering. Stage 4 cancer is suffering.

And a totally trashed relationship with no reconciliation on the horizon might be suffering.

The uneasy truth is that we all suffer. Every one of us. All of us. You aren’t exempt.

There is a line of thought in some Christian circles that suffering is needless. That if you pray right, live right, and “obey the rules,” then you’re exempt. Just have a positive mental attitude. God wants you to be spared from hurt, right?

And when suffering does occur, then we’re supposed to pretend like it’s all good.

Uh, nope. I don’t think the call is to suffer and then automatically say, “Well, praise God!”

I’m looking at Jesus here. There’s the savior in the Garden of Gethsemane, facing in mere hours ahead the worst conceivable suffering imaginable. Torture. Crucifixion. Abandonment by friends. Abandonment by God.

I didn’t see Him singing in the garden. I don’t see Him acting all hyperspiritual. I see Him hurting out loud. I see Him sweating blood. I see Him asking His Father for a way out.

Is there a lesson here?

In full disclosure, I don’t think I’ve actually ever really suffered. Sure, I’ve had some tough times, and if you’re familiar with my testimony from the last couple of years, there have been plenty of challenges. But outright suffering? Not really, at least not to the extent that Christ experienced. And there are plenty of other scriptural accounts of godly folks facing excruciating trials. Some persevered. Some didn’t end well.

You have to write your own autobiography for this one. You have to ruthlessly evaluate yourself and be honest – have you really suffered? To what extent? And how did you respond?

I can’t answer those questions for you. You’ll need to hammer those out.

Jesus unquestionably suffered. But at the end, He went to the cross with joy.

On the surface, there sure isn’t anything joyful about that.

However, dig a little deeper. What Christ experienced, and His response to it, was not a shallow consolation that knew no pain. Rather, His was a joy deepened by sorrow while recognizing the hurt of humanity.

Here’s my takeaways. I’d love for you to develop your own. It will salve your soul:

• You are going to suffer.
• A reasonable question would be, “To what end?” In other words, how can you learn and grow through it?
• How you respond to suffering literally impacts the quality of your life.
• You can choose your response.
• Choose wisely.
• There is a purpose in suffering. God could engineer circumstances so that we never experienced any hurt. But He doesn’t.
• Since He’s God, He knows what He’s doing.
• Furthermore, He loves you insanely, and it’s in the context of that love that He allows that pain.
• Big closing question: Jesus experienced joy. Maybe He even chose joy. So to what purposeful, positive end can you allow your suffering to make a difference not only in your own life, but in the lives of others? Gnaw on that one.

This is a tough one, but it’s worth taking some time to ponder.

As I write this, I’m in the waiting room at the surgical area of Baptist for Women, at Baptist Hospital in Jackson, Mississippi. My sweet wife Teresa is back in the bowels of the hospital somewhere having her shoulder replaced – a nice metal ball plugged into a nice plastic socket. The doc says she’ll be better than new … she’s been quietly suffering for weeks now. It was time to get this done. By the time you read this, it may be over and done. Pray anyway – for a quick, uneventful recovery and that I can be the very best caregiver ever!