Ever wonder why Christians can suffer and yet still believe God loves them? Or why someone on his or her deathbed can beam with the light of Christ? Or why a person walking a road of affliction and injustice can still offer praise to the very God who could take away their pain? 2 Corinthians 4:16-18 has the answer.
“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.”
No doubt about it, suffering is real.
It can be painful and debilitating. Our outward man—our bodies, our circumstances, our finances, our relationships…—can waste away. Just a quick look at the world’s current circumstances can confirm that: COVID-19, fear, death, financial disaster, heartache, and grief. If we were to focus just on these circumstances we would likely come to the conclusion that God is an unloving, untrustworthy, ugly being. Why would He inflict so much pain on His creation? Why would He let us literally waste away? What type of God would do that to the people He loves?
But the one who knows Christ knows there is another side to our existence, equally as real as our outward man. Paul calls this our inner man. This is our heart, mind, spirit, and soul. They are the parts of us that are unseen and yet make up more of who we really are than anything else. The strange wonder of Christianity is that while we may be literally wasting away to all who look upon our lives, inwardly we are being renewed. Just like Isaiah 40:31 we are renewing our strength, mounting up with wings like eagles. That means it can be storming all around us yet our souls can be basking in the glory of a sunrise.
That is why Christians can suffer and still serve a loving God.
Notice the use of language when Paul defines our afflictions as light and our eternal glory as a weight. How many times have I thought, “Man, life just feels heavy right now”? What I mean when I think or say that statement is that it feels like pain and sorrow, sadness and grief are pressing in like a physical weight that is increasingly hard to bear. It crushes and I long to be free of the burden. Sorrow and suffering are weighty.
So when Paul calls them “light afflictions” it can only be to make his point clear. Of course, Paul knew suffering. Probably better than most of us. His evangelical career was littered with great struggle. And yet he purposefully defines the weight of his suffering as light because he wants us to see it in light of something bigger—the weight of glory. The weight of glory is far heavier, far more substantial than the weight of our affliction. And instead of a burden, it is the heaviness of delight. It is a picture of being utterly crushed by the magnificence and beauty of God. It is a weight that washes over us in the deepest sense of comfort and joy.
Look, Paul says the two cannot even be compared. We cannot look at our suffering and think, “Well, eternity will at least make up for this hardship I’ve had to face.” No. What we have suffered won’t even begin to compare with eternity. Forever fellowship with Christ won’t just be the redo for what life should have been like on earth, it won’t just be the happy ending in place of the bad. It will be“ beyond all comparison”. It is that. Much. Better.
That’s why we must train our eyes to see eternity. In pain—physical, emotional, or spiritual—our perspective is often small, laser-focused on the situation in front of us. It’s just taking the next step, facing the next minute, doing the next thing. When we take those moments and re-frame our perspective, refocus our eyes, we see that what we do with each step, each minute, each next thing, matters.
How we respond in this transient time can have eternal affects.
Maybe it’s COVID-19 affecting your family personally through sickness or financial strain, isolation, or unexpected homeschooling. Maybe it’s grief. Maybe it’s chronic physical pain. Maybe it’s the brokenness, betrayal, and loneliness of lost relationships. Whatever we face today is transient. It will only last for a short time. It is impermanent. But how we respond, what we train our eyes to see, what we practice in our inner man even as our outward man wastes away—that is eternal.
Suffering is unjust, suffering is defeat, suffering is a waste if Christ isn’t in it. Through his death, resurrection, and invitation into the glory of the Father, Christ flipped suffering on its head. Suffering is light. Suffering is transient. Suffering is preparing us for something so much better.
So much of our suffering is about perspective.
Lord, while it feels like we are wasting away with all we see around us, let our hearts, minds, souls, and spirits be renewed. Let us fix our eyes on what is unseen, on what is eternal, as we wait for the weight of your glory.