Faith doesn’t spare us from suffering – but does give us hope beyond it, says Jeff Lucas
It was one of those long car journeys, all the way from the south of England to Leeds. Along the way, I’d engaged in a lengthy session of unChristian muttering about potholes. Then came my usual bout of temporary atheism as we sat at a complete standstill on the M25.
That motorway has always been a challenge to my faith. I have prayed many times, always without success, that God would remove the line of juggernauts blocking my progress, casting them into the sea.
Eventually, after what felt like 27 hours in the car (it was actually six), we arrived at the restaurant where a surprise birthday celebration had been organised for a friend. But when we got there, we discovered that the surprise was ours.
A smiling member of staff welcomed us, asked for the name on the booking and began scanning her computer screen. She scrolled through the reservations, then scrolled some more. There was no booking for a birthday party. A few more minutes of keyboard clicking eventually established the problem. The party had actually taken place seven days earlier. The host had forgotten to tell us that the date had changed. There followed a little more muttering, of which I am not proud, before we accepted the inevitable and began the journey home. We’d gone to the right city on the wrong date, expecting a party, only to be disappointed.
Biblically speaking, as followers of Jesus, we are a people caught between two cities: the Old Jerusalem and the New Jerusalem. For confused souls who currently reside in Milton Keynes, let me explain…
Right now, we are living in the Old Jerusalem era (see Galatians 4). Here we find earthly chaos and divine intervention, brokenness and healing, suffering and grace mingled together. There is blood and mystery, but also redemption and resurrection. Tsunamis and landslides devastate. Battles rage, questions remain and faithful people sometimes suffer. The kingdom of God has come, but not yet in all its fullness. Ours is the season of the now and the not yet.
But another era is coming. Scripture calls it “the new Jerusalem” (Revelation 21:2) – a renewed creation in which tears will be banished, pain will be consigned to history and death will become old news. The fog will finally lift. We will see Jesus face to face and be with Him.
The problem comes when we get the dates mixed up.
The recent tragedy at Big Church Festival brings our confusion painfully close to home. Following the terrible accident involving a falling sign, we grieve the loss of a much-loved pastor, the pain of those who were seriously injured and the trauma carried by all who witnessed what happened.
It is entirely natural that people should ask how such a thing could happen at a gathering devoted to worship, prayer and the celebration of faith. But we must remember that worshipping Jesus does not mean that we have been transported to the New Jerusalem. We are still living in the Old Jerusalem.
Here, even at places where thousands gather to praise God, people can be injured. Beloved husbands can die. Prayers can appear to go unanswered. Sometimes the hardest questions are asked not by people who have lost their faith, but by those who are desperately trying to hold on to it.
We should never minimise such suffering with easy answers. Instead, we lament, grieve and pray, holding on to the promise that the city we ultimately belong to is still to come.
One day, we will arrive. There will be no pain, no partings, funerals or tears. And best of all, Jesus will be there, up close and personal.
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