“I gave up on all the inferior stuff so I could know Christ personally, experience his resurrection power, be a partner in his suffering and go all the way with him to death itself. If there was any way to get in on the resurrection from the dead, I wanted to do it.” Philippians 3:10,11 (The Message Bible)

 

Jesus willingly experienced the loss of His life on the cross.  Jesus understood that another word for loss is change, or exchange if you prefer.  The foundation of Christ's greatest decision was the principle that positive change always begins with loss. A single person loses his or her independence in order to be married.  A consumer loses a sum of money to have the latest product.  In a relationship, we lose control in order to have love. It's how we act during loss that determines whether spectators see the trial or the transformation. 

 

The lead executioner at Jesus' crucifixion said at the end of the day, "Truly this was the Son of God."  He didn't have to see a risen Lord to know His identity; he could tell by the way He handled loss that He was deity.  Would anyone guess that you are a child of the most high God when you are not getting your way, losing one of your rights or, most importantly, facing the chilly waters of death?  I am not suggesting there will be no cries of pain during loss.  People of faith are real and saying, "ouch" doesn't hurt God's reputation or negate His power.  However, Jesus found a way to honor His Heavenly Father during the most painful hour of His life, and that is all He is asking us to do.

 

One day several weeks ago I watched a sermon on DVD by Louis Giglio entitled, "Suffering is a megaphone for hope."  In this message he talked about how God uses our most desperate circumstances to transmit His message of eternal hope to those around us.  After watching the message, I wrote a study guide for our small groups.  What happened next, I could not and would not have planned, but I am convinced that God did.

 

I got up from my desk and drove to Umass Hospital in Worcester to visit Jan Allen, who was spending her last few hours on earth after a long multi-year battle with cancer.  Jan's Daughter Robin was Elyse's second grade teacher this year, and she attends Bethany along with her husband Skip and their children.  I was going to show my respects to the Riel and Allen families, and to live out something we have embraced at Bethany, which is,  "Always be willing to sit on the front row of people's pain."  I didn't know that God was about to illustrate the sermon, "Suffering is a Megaphone of Hope" for me.

 

I stepped into the room at ICU, and here must have been at least seventeen or eighteen family and friends around the bed.  Jan was on a morphine drip and had an oxygen mask on her face.  I've been in those circumstances at least a hundred times, and a patient is almost never strong enough or aware enough to speak, but Jan lifted the mask, smiled and said, "Pastor, the party's over, I'm going home to be with Jesus."  I said, "No, I think for you the party is about to begin."  Then the people in that room morphed into a choir and began to sing, "Great is our God", "It is well with my soul", and many more hymns and choruses exalting the hope of believers.  I thought, "Now this is what Giglio is talking about; the sounds of hope are being broadcast down the halls of this intensive care unit because of cancer.  If it wasn't for this cancer and this suffering, we would not be hearing this hope."

 

Hope is because of the throne that is waiting beyond the cross.  Jesus despised the cross, but He respected the genius of the Father in using it as a tool to silence our enemies. There's glory on the other side of the cross, but you've got to go through it before you will get to it.

May you spend the rest of your life expanding the meaning of the cross in your life. "I will glory in the cross."