No one likes suffering. Unless you're a Cubs fan; then you like suffering. The rest of us, though, usually try to avoid suffering.
Every October my north side affiliated friends will tell me with great conviction, "We'll get 'em next year." I never know if they are trying to convince themselves or me. Either way, they are convinced that next year will be their year.
Baseball is a mistress selling her wares of what could be. What could be presses fans and players alike through the season and into the offseason, year after year, after year.
Faith in God is a lot like this. Faith calls us forward. Forward with a conviction while you may be suffering now, God is able to do far more than we abundantly ask or think. There will be a next year.
The first victim of tragedy is the loss of heart. Even someone else's struggles can wash a wave of discouragement over you so you feel as if you are drowning from someone else's problem.
My son loves to play soccer. That wasn't always the case. At the beginning of the season he didn't want to play. He would go and participate, enjoy himself but you could tell his heart wasn't in it.
One day heading to a game I told him when he's on the soccer field, he can run as fast as he wants and can kick the ball as hard as he wants. This was the perspective change he needed. It changed his heart for the game. He had the best time and the best game.
This is what Ephesians 3:13 in the Bible says, "So I ask you not to lose heart over what I am suffering for you, which is your glory."
The big question is "Why?" Why should someone not lose heart when someone they care about is suffering? The short answer has to do with their perspective.
The intense feelings of suffering and tragedy have a way of overshadowing everything else. It's hard to see today, let alone think of eternity.
The gospel tells, though, that our available eternal inheritance is richer than the momentary tragedy that we are enduring. That doesn't dismiss the emotions of suffering, but it puts them in a perspective that purchases us the freedom within our souls to say, "We'll get 'em next year".
This is the moment, but the future is eternal.
Robert Hurtgen is a husband, father, minister and writer. Read more of him at robhurtgen.wordpress.com.
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