Beneath The Cedar Stand

In autumn, the forested corridors of northern Michigan transform into blazing canopies flaming with transcendent beauty. Vast swaths of oak and aspen and yellow birch tracts transform into resplendent firework displays of red, orange, and yellow. The insipid greens and browns of summer which bespoke lush, vibrant growth, are gone, a distant memory of Junes long past.

One can take 75 up past Bay City where the scenery transforms quickly from one of urban and suburban sprawl to long stretches of fields and forests. The oak and the beech come first, the pines later as the canopy changes from the deciduous south to the predominantly mixed coniferous north. By the time you reach Grayling, you can pick out the silhouettes of ancient stands of white pine graciously (though not altruistically) spared the logger’s blade.

From there, by taking 72 west, you will find yourself passing through Michigan’s angling mecca. Spoken of in reverential tones are the names Au Sable and Manistee whose rippling waters once trundled flotillas of logs to waiting mills and now are known for their cold water streambeds which provide habitat for rainbow, brook, and brown trout. Each year, millions of sportsmen pay their pilgrimage to these aquatic gods standing waist-deep in 55 degree water; a baptism of sorts. The clockwork rhythm of casting lines becomes the heartbeat of the land.

Sweeping westward, the freeway dwindles as the agrarian landscape gives way to the lush passageway of the Huron-Manistee State Forest as you near Kalkaska, becoming a highway divided by curtains of woodlands rimmed with the dull amber of meadow grasses. On either side, two-tracks of questionable integrity spur off into the dense, shadowy canopy crisscrossing in an indeterminately large web which seems to wind its way across the entire northern Lower Peninsula, an intricate patchwork of largely desolate shadows frequented only by hearty hunters during the season. The road becomes a beautifully monotonous stretch of grass and trees, grass and trees only broken here and there by a desiccated deer carcass or perhaps a solitary passing car. Lit by the rosy dream-light of the fading sun it causes one to ponder the deeper things.

With the bright familiarity of memory, Kendra drove this solitary, picturesque route as her father had before her. Two hours out from her home in Ann Arbor she had stopped for a burger and a large Coke and so now drove contentedly satiated yet with a certain unsettling amount of pressure on her bladder. Stubbornly she drove on ignoring the increasingly violent nagging of her body, focused instead upon the memories with seemed to flood over her.

It was impossible for her to not harken back her memories as a child, to her recollections of visiting the Grayling Fish Hatchery each year. Running (precariously) up and down the chilled raceways watching the multitudes of trout jostling in the water beside she remembered as incredible fun but it must have driven her parents to the edge of sanity as they no doubt foresaw their pigtailed 5 year old tumbling down into the mass of fish. Kendra noted the solemnity with which she inserted the dime her parents had given her into the fish food dispenser and the joy with which she liberally distributed the food into the open air ponds.

She wiped a stray tear from her face at the memory. The cool air dried her cheek.

Though raw, these thoughts seemed to possess and indomitable pull on her.

She gave an involuntary glance at the passenger seat.

The landscape, though a decade foreign, began to take shape and possess an air of familiarity. Like old ghosts they prowled the shadows of her mind demanding her attention. She made a left onto 131 and passed a herd of bison lounging in the shade of an old oak copse amid a field of golden grasses. Here and there a calf trailed gingerly behind its dutiful mother. The old bulls, unconcerned by the frivolity of their offspring (and by the Chrysler 200 passing by at 55 miles an hour) viewed their surroundings stoically with the indifference of a medieval monarch. She remembered tasting a Buffalo burger at a Fourth of July celebration years ago and wondered with certain incredulity about how many bison farms there were in northern Michigan.

In about seven miles she crossed over the Boardman river, one of her father’s favorites and along whose banks she had ridden her first horse at Ranch Rudolph, albeit much further west. This was the South Branch which meandered, predictably, through South Boardman, a town she had never spent any substantial time in but heard about as an anecdotal reference in her father’s many stories, often as an example of northern Michigan absurdity. She watched the parochial goings on of the small town, a mail truck coasting along the dry gravel shoulder, the passing motorist offering a pleasant wave, an elderly man wearing a battered Tiger’s hat opening the door to a restaurant, a newspaper tucked resolutely under one arm. There was a level of small town life that she had always desired. Growing up in the suburbs of Detroit she had known many of the kids in her neighborhood as a child, but as time and economic mobility shaped more and more the demographics, those kids her age had all moved away by the time she was in high school. Her own two boys now would be hard pressed to even point out one of their neighbors let alone go play with them. These days, kids are more acquainted with figures on Netflix or in video games than the couple next door. Kendra couldn’t be too self-righteous though, she, through her own behavior had allowed many of the traits that her boys now possessed. She chose looking at her phone over looking out at a sunset, binge-watching a new sitcom rather than asking deep questions of her friends. In a place like South Boardman she naively imagined that the old-fashioned life still existed; that boys and girls still played baseball and tag and hide and seek until dark. These were foolish thoughts indeed but she chose to believe them because she wanted a town like this to serve as some idyllic model, as a hope that all was not lost despite all evidence to the contrary.

For years her father operated under a similar delusion. He dutifully saved a percentage of his paycheck every month with the intention of purchasing a cottage up north, likely somewhere around Grayling. It was his dream; his obsession. Though never expressed, he too seemed to envy the careless lifestyle of the north. It was only the realization that her college expenses were going to cost far more than expected that drove him to abandon the idea of a northern cottage. She had never taken lightly his sacrifice once she was made aware of it. There was always a part of her that felt guilty that her future had eclipsed his dreams. Yet, she wouldn’t think of hesitating if she had to make the same decision about one of her boys.

About fifteen minutes later she flipped on her blinker and turned down a surprisingly well-kept two-track. The trees had been cut back to clear the way for a run of power lines so there was an open clear-cut area the road disappeared off into the forest. From what she remembered, the logging companies periodically came in and harvested these trees planting new saplings in their stead. She had seen them working once when they had been up over vacation. The huge cutting apparatus had startled her as a child and driven her into her father’s arms. The trees here now had been planted nearly fifteen years ago and were only now beginning to come to resemble an actual forested area. They were, in a way, her trees since they grew parallel to her lifetime. She noted where fire over the years had scarred (yet not burned) their trunks.

Her car bucked and rocked its way over the pock-marked sandy road. She had a passing thought about what she would do if she got stuck. Her cell phone was definitely in roaming and might not even get that great of signal at all. She brushed the thought away however. Not now, she thought, it won’t happen today.

In confidence she drove on into the forest.

There were some muddy puddles from a recent rain that splashed up against her car. She brought her arm inside. Overhanging branches thwapped against her window and antenna causing it to swing back and forth violently. She paid no attention.

This was her cathedral, as close to holy ground as she had in her life. For decades this is where her father had come when he wasn’t at home. This was sacred. Many things had changed over the thirty or forty years since he had first discovered the small, meandering creek that eventually fed into the mighty Manistee. The fishing wasn’t nearly as good, he often complained. People cut away the overhang to make it easier to cast but took away the good hiding spots for the fish. Some people are keeping too many as well. His last lecture from nearly a decade before still rang in her ears as she bounced along the road.

He used to hunt here too before the intruding of agriculture drove the deer elsewhere in their quest for survival. In recent years he had ventured up near Baldwin to see any numbers. In truth, he hardly ever brought home any venison and when he did it was the product of one of his hunting buddies rather than his own. As he aged he seemed much more content taking photos than taking racks. Kendra understood the sentiment.

The creek, though, was what brought him back throughout trout season, the chill of April to the early evenings of September.

She pulled the car, now bedecked with grey muddy splatters into a meadow clearing. Clearly this had been used as distributed camping before and the charred remains of a fire ring bore evidence to this. A few tissues and some burned cans of Miller Light lay strewn about. Several chewing tobacco tins had been nailed into the bark of a gnarled maple. She had always considered it a grievous offense to litter some pristine natural place with human refuse. In her head the two were incongruous. There was purity to the natural world (save the typhoons, hurricanes, and volcanos) that seemed to exist on another plain from the world of crude, wasteful mankind. Thus it was always jarring to see litter cast about it was as if someone had defaced the Mona Lisa or some other incontrovertibly priceless artifact. She exited the car. The slamming of her door seemed to resonate throughout the forest. Birds gave calls of alarm. She wondered if anyone else was camped out here tonight. Surely they were. There was a horse camp not a mile and a half down the road. Still, the campground seemed abandoned as if she were the lone survivor of some pervasive holocaust.

The sun sets quickly in the forest and already the orb had begun to dip below the tree line bathing the meadow in mottled shadows. Yarrow and blue-stem grass waved soothingly in the slight breeze. It was too late to conduct her business today she decided, far too late. It would have to wait for tomorrow and it would wait. She considered walking down to the creek, a mere hundred yards eastward on a forest path but thought better of herself. Instead she made off quickly into the woods to relieve herself. Invigorated by the release, she went for a walk down the road to see what had become of her home-away-from-home. Kendra found that she had to actively work at avoiding the muddy puddles and more than once her foot slipped sloshing a thick paste of mud onto her (relatively) new tennis shoes.

The shadows grew longer and she wished that she had grabbed her sweater out of the car before she had left. Really, though, none of this was planned. She hadn’t intended on even doing it and of course she had proposed no plans to drive up to the camp tonight. This was, by her meticulous standards, a monumental exercise in spontaneity

.

The funny thing about forests is how loud sounds are. The smallest vole or hopping bird becomes amplified down there on the forest floor until it sounds like a bear is lumbering toward you. Even now, as an adult, she couldn’t help think that the sound of leaves rustling and sticks breaking were the work of a herd of deer when in reality it was simply an ovenbird making one last forage before heading back on its annual migration south. That was one of the magical things about the forest, that it is existed inside of some mystical sphere where reason and logic take a back seat to mystery, whimsy, and shadow.

She walked along in the dusky half-light immersed in the unmistakable smells of fall, her feet shuffling across the carpet of decomposing leaves. From the direction of the creek she heard a loud splash and froze instinctively like a dog waiting to spring. For those seconds the world slowed. Each muscle in her legs and arms tensed, coiled like a viper set to strike. Her hearing heightened to its peak, yearning- searching for distress or danger. And into the pregnant anticipatory alertness came … nothing. No further indication of presence, no veiled attack or frantic chase, only the unnatural silence of the night. Slowly the evening creatures rejoined their revelry, the crickets gleefully chirping away the weather report, the jays and crows heartily jarring their territorial disputes, the ever-present (and increasing) drone of mosquitoes, those winged heathen.

She had probably walked three quarters of a mile down the trail and judged the waning daylight with incredulity, not to mention the influence of the October chill, and make the wise decision to return to the car. Her return voyage was met with no further excitement but she did pass another campsite only to see a pair of middle-aged hunters indulging in front of a campfire. They offered a congenial wave, which she returned in kind and reminded her that even in this place, which had always seemed to her so remote; so isolated, that the reality of the world was not across the sea or sky but rather less than a mile away. This did not disturb her as she thought it might. In her mind she had imagined this trip as something sacred, a pilgrimage of sorts where one might ascend to an unseen realm within the clouds. Even with her mythos broken, she found herself relieved to be free of these unrealistic expectations. What good was exaggeration now? Better to stand with feet firmly planted in reality; in truth; in the history of what has been. Light shines clearer that way. Memories become richer.  She walked the rest of the way at ease.

She made it back to her car just as it was becoming difficult to see. It took time for her eyes to adjust. She had never had great night vision and now it took squinting to make out the shape of the meadow. She almost tripped over a weathered fencepost that looked to be older than she was. A variety of grasses grew from its splintered rounded top.

She opened the door whose surface was beginning to cool in the sun’s absence. Under the illumination cast by the car’s interior light she put on her sweater, pulling it over first one shoulder and then the other. She retrieved an old blanket from the trunk which she kept for emergencies. None had ever precipitated the blanket. Thank God. She got in the back seat, pulling the door shut behind her. As the light slowly faded she attempted to make herself comfortable in the seat which was about ¾ as large as her body all the while shifting to allow the blanket, thin with age yet still rough, fibrous, and uncomfortable, to cover her. Nearly in the fetal position she rested her head against the moderate padding on the car door. She closed her eyes and tried to sleep.

Her night was cold and troubled.

It seemed as if she awoke every hour either to shiver beneath the blanket or with a start at some noise on the other side of the door. The proximity of fellow campers offered her little consolation as she fought for warmth alone in the darkness. The nearest campsite might as well be miles away and civilization far across the expanses of space. It was all she could do to not bring her head to the door’s window as if even the safety of the car wouldn’t stop the vile creatures clamoring for her head.

In her half-waking thought she remembered with a chill her childhood fear of Whippoorwills and their haunting, repetitive call. Irrational though it was her fear followed her year after year they camped. Huddled beneath her sleeping bag she trembled and fought to control her breathing. Silly to think that those innocent birds, such benign things, could cause such panic. It was only in the warm, encompassing embrace of her father that she was able to find peace. She longed for those arms to surround her now and block the night-fears that stalked the darkness.

She awoke with the dawn kissing her eyelids, frosting them lightly as if with the morning dew. Rubbing away the blurry vision she uncovered herself. She lay awkwardly contorted in the car’s backseat. For most of the night she had slept fetally but now found that she had spread herself out wildly, arms and legs akimbo. She felt the unmistakable imprint of the fabric upon her face and could not escape its chemical scent of formaldehyde. She was glad to be alone, owing nothing to anyone.

Her phone was off but she suspected it to be around eight. It was still chilly despite the sun and she pulled the blanket over her shoulders as she sat up. She had never been able to sleep in on vacation however exhausted she may be. Even as a child her circadian rhythms trumped the natural relaxing qualities of solitude. She often found herself breakfasting alone while her family slumbered away peacefully. Today she had only two crunchy granola bars which she frugally packed away for later.

She reached up into the front seat and grabbed her bottle of water. Carefully she unscrewed the cap and brought it to her lips. The water was warm but she drank it greedily, having been unaware of just how thirsty she was. She took one swallow, then another relishing the liquid coursing down her throat seemingly filling every parched inch of her body.

She popped open the door and sat soaking in the sun’s nourishing rays, her feet dangling an inch above the still dewy grass. Here and there birds flitted about gathering the dried leavings of summer from atop the meadow grasses. The gregarious twittering of chickadees echoed in the shadowy stand of cedar that lay beyond the creek. Each one satisfied in its place in community, a testament to joyful contentment of creation.

 She sat breathing out warm vapor.

A flash of white into the sky signaled the flight of a flicker. A trio of crows barked aggressively from the skeletal tops of long dead pines, the continuation of some ancient argument perhaps.

She had hoped for a warmer day. There are some things you can’t plan. This, of course, was one of those.

The day grew. The dew burned.

She stood up, letting her feet down upon the firm ground. Tightly packed by the years of abuse she wondered how often her father had stood right here, camped right here, his strong arms swinging the ax sending splinters across the clearing, standing confidently in the his long underwear watching the mist rise off the creek.

He seemed to know every slight twist and curve of the creek as if he had been graced by some Delphic oracle. Each undercut bank was etched in his memory as well as the tale of every trout he had extracted from it. He possessed an uncanny, almost unnatural understanding of the fish and would often call his shot before a cast. Whether by experience, prophecy, or by sheer luck his words often still hung in the air when the fish rose. He was like an Anglo-Saxon hero of old standing as if born of the primal waters themselves, arms held high gripping tightly the taut, bowed shaft of the rod, stripping effortlessly, gracefully with his left hand, fighting, albeit confidently  as the fish desperately sought refuge beneath the bank or a fallen log. It may be that boys and girls dream gods from mortal men, that beneath the veneer of onyx and carnelian there lays dirt and skin and flesh and bone but Kendra’s memories of her father eclipsed mere reverence. Forever he would glimmer with the sheen of childhood impressions. Though she knew him to be a man flawed, broken, and short-tempered she clung even now to the patina of heroism. Memories linger like ghosts and die slow deaths if ever at all.

She opened the driver’s side door, tossed the empty water bottle into the passenger foot well where it bounced about a few times with plastic crinkling noises. She removed from the passenger seat a small wooden box which she had inexplicably buckled in. She held it tenderly as one might hold the hand of a child, trembling and frail.

So as not to disturb the solitude she slowly brought the door to the car without shutting it fully, leaving an inch or so gap.

She walked barefoot and silent through the pines which rimmed the stream, the balls of her feet falling rhythmically on the soft shed needles. The air fell silent as the birds ceded their chatter deferentially. She paused only a moment to pick the safest spot of the bank to descend. She chose a spot obviously frequently used by fishermen for it was warn and the grasses in the area crushed. The creek swung a dogleg slightly north and west. About thirty feet downstream three trees had fallen across the water so long ago that each had become its own ecosystem with an array of mosses, wildflowers, and even small saplings springing from the decomposing bulk. Dragonflies hovered effortlessly, now and then darting off in chase of unseen quarry like elegant matadors.

Her breath stilled as her foot and then calf plunged into the cold, clear water. A veil of fine mist rose.

She struggled to maintain her balance as the current, neither swift nor altogether absent, pushed steadily against her. It was just enough to throw off her equilibrium. She wobbled like a drunkard struggling desperately to imitate sobriety. More than anything, she kept the box firmly within her center of gravity. Dutifully she sought to protect the contents- her father’s ashes, as she bore down waist-deep into the waters which had flowed by him for so many years. She bit her lip as the water rose further, chilling her to the bone.

She trembled.

Her feet sunk into the soft sand which, under the gentle assault of the current, gave little by little burying her further. Gooseflesh covered her skin. She bore him on still further reaching with some difficulty the centermost waters. Here, her feet were met by algae covered stones worn smooth by the creek’s slow, persistent attack. How firm a foundation, she thought. She held him for a moment. She felt she should say something, utter some elegiac word fit for the moment but none came, and her confidence escaped her, carried off downstream perhaps to drift aimlessly through eddies and riffles endlessly progressing toward a formless unknown. Hot tears rose unbidden. She let them fall until they mingled with the clear waters.

Her thoughts imperceptibly turned to a story her father once told her of a fishing trip years before. Beside these banks he sat enjoying the cool shade after a summer’s morning on the river, a beer in one hand, a book in the other, as he so often had. He came away empty handed. He never kept any fish from the creek on principle. It was not so much that he was opposed to it; he went ice fishing and kept all the perch and bluegill he caught there, but rather that he simply shied away from it. He found himself morally unsettled at the thought of killing or eating trout from his creek. There seemed to be some mystical superlative quality swirling beneath those waters. As he sat soaking in the warming sun, a jeep pulled up into the campsite and two twentysomething men got out. They had been fishing somewhere down the river and their rods still stretched precariously out the back. The burlier of the two disappeared into the underbrush to relieve himself; the other exited and pulled a large Ziploc bag from a cooler. Inside were three nice browns, at least ten inches a piece. He walked off towards the creek with a nod of acknowledgement to her father. He watched as the man knelt down facing the water, presumably to refresh the water keeping the deceased fish from spoiling.

“Hey,” the man yelled to his friend urinating in the bushes, “three ain’t even good enough to keep,” and proceeded to dump the lifeless fish back into the creek where they slowly drifted away in pitiable motion.

Her father became incised. The story that followed varied based upon the audience and her father’s enthusiasm. What always remained constant was that something within him exploded, some switch which had hitherto been unexplored flipped. He sprung out of the folding chair and confronted the man, who, for his part, was completely unprepared for what awaited him. The truth of the moment may forever now remain unverified save for that young man, should he ever come to grips with the indignity of the story enough to share, but her father always maintained that he chased the men back to their vehicle through a combination of physical intimidation and a proficient display of vulgarity and watched as they made a speedy exit, bumping and jarring, back to the main road while he stood watching in righteous victory.

All over a few fish.

She felt like she was fighting some epic struggle against the tide by tarrying, as if she were holding mightily against a heavy weight. She delayed no longer. She removed the lid of the simple pine box, held it firmly between her arm and body, and was struck at the plainness of the pale grey-colored ash. She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting but the sight of it struck her with a degree of indifference. Holding her arms slightly aloft, she turned the box allowing a small stream of the contents to spill slowly into the river in a gentle procession in front of her body where it met the current and gave itself away.

“Catch-and-release, dad” she said with a chuckle. It was the only thing she could think to say without choking on her own tears and digressing into deep sobs.

With gentle taps she continued to pour. The ashes sank and swirled as if caught in a surrealist painting. They swept past her body and off forever downstream to eventually to meet the Manistee and Lake Michigan and in time the vast swaths of open ocean. Such is progression. A blue jay cried loudly. A breeze picked up and sent some of the ashes spinning in a tiny cyclone out across the surface of the water, beyond that the creek was becalmed. Strands of her hair drifted in and out of her vision.

The flow slackened. She gave the box a final tap and evacuated the last of the contents which drifted sleepily down in half-speed motion to the waiting water below and then were gone.

She returned the lid to the box and held it shut with her thumb and forefinger. The mist was gone, burned off by the heat of the day. She caught the scent of a distant campfire in the air and imagined the hearty smells of scrambled eggs and sizzling sausage. Looking up to the treetops she saw with amazement the array of tones and pigments in the leaves. Beautiful and full, each tree wore its chic ballgown with haughty pride. Autumn was hard upon the land.

Upstream a fish rose.

2 Corinthians 7:8-11

For even if I made you grieve with my letter, I do not regret it--- though I did regret it, for I see that the letter grieved you, though only for a while. As it is, I rejoice, not because you were grieved, but because you were grieved into repenting. For you felt a godly grief, so that you suffered no loss through us.

For godly grief produces a repentance that leads to salvation without regret, whereas worldly grief produces death. For see what earnestness this godly grief has produced in you, but also what eagerness to clear yourselves, what indignation, what fear, what longing, what zeal, what punishment! At every point you have proved yourselves innocent in the matter.

2 Corinthians 7:8-11

Paul shifts his focus here to comment on his previous letter (likely 1 Corinthians) in which he spoke harshly (though not inaccurately) about the ungodliness in which the Corinthian Christians were partaking. He remarks here that though he did not enjoy grieving them as such, but feels great joy that his rebuke brought about repentance in them. Paul paints a picture of what it looks like to properly rebuke or correct another believer. While that would likely be an interesting topic to mine, I would rather choose to focus on v10 and its implications for our own lives.

For godly grief produces a repentance that leads to salvation without regret, whereas worldly grief produces death. Paul gives us a powerful contrast between godly grief and worldly grief. It is particularly important for us today to understand the role grief plays both positively and negatively.

First, before we can properly address Paul’s statements here we must acknowledge that the Lord does indeed discipline us. “And have you forgotten the exhortation that addresses you as sons? “My son, do not regard lightly the discipline of the Lord, nor be weary when reproved by him. For the Lord disciplines the one he loves, and chastises every son whom he receives. … For the moment all discipline seems painful rather than pleasant, but later it yields the peaceful fruit of righteousness to those who have been trained by it.”

In our current age we have been taught to accept a pacified God who loves too much to offend and cares too much to discipline. This does not reflect any Biblical understanding of the Lord but rather reflects our own shifting attitudes toward humanity and parenting. The Lord does love us. He does care for us, but he cares for us too much to leave us in the throes of our own misguided ways. He often (justly) allows the earthly consequences of our sin to lead us to repentance. He also divinely disciplines us to draw near to him. Ours is a God of both compassion and justice. Sometimes the most compassionate thing He can do for us is to discipline us.

With that established, let us compare the proper godly view of grief with the worldly, improper view of grief.

Godly Grief Leads to Repentance. Worldly Grief leads to depression.

Paul here contrasts godly grief and worldly grief. The main distinction he makes is that godly grief leads to repentance whereas worldly grief leads to death. When confronted with our sin either through the conviction of another human or the convicting of the Holy Spirit we have two choices: either we can accept the righteous rebuke and confess our sin or we can ignore the sin. We cannot however, ignore the grief. If we have indeed been convicted by the Holy Spirit which resides within us, we are left with the knowledge and weight of our own sin. The correct outlet for that weight is to lead us to repentance for “if we confess ours sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” This, indeed, is the very purpose of grief.

On the other hand, if we, having been loaded with the guilt and grief, do not bring ourselves to confess and repent of our sin, we set an unmanageable amount of burden upon our shoulder which we cannot and were never intended to bear. Only Christ is capable of carrying the weight of our sin. When we cannot accept the rebuke or when we cannot bring ourselves to ask for forgiveness (perhaps because we consider our sin too grievous to be forgiven) we embark in a condition that can only lead to depression. What other outcome is there if we bear the full weight of our sins ourselves?

We spend far too much of our lives like this, bearing the weight of our past sins and shame. The memories of our sins, which should instead lead us to praise the God willing to forgive them, drags us down into a crippling despair for which there is no escape except repentance.

Godly Grief leads to a right understanding of sin.

Godly grief leads us to understand that our sin, no matter how heinous, can be forgiven and redeemed by the sacrifice of Jesus. It is our relationship Him that allows our lives to even continue. Having been thus forgiven, we can (though it is not easy) live our lives in the newness of freedom in Christ. This is the economy of mercy: we bring the full measure of our sinfulness to the throne of God and Christ takes that measure upon himself. We are then those who have been forgiven much.

Worldly grief leads to a view of sin that is altogether inaccurate. Worldly grief emboldens sin by devaluing the sacrifice of Christ. A worldly grief makes sin too large for the blood of Christ to handle. It is too big for him. We, of course, would never say it this way, but our actions belie our words. When we carry with us the guilt because we believe that it is too much for God to forgive, we are, in essence, saying that Jesus wasn’t enough, that we need something more. When we carry with us the shame of our past lives and past choices, refusing to let them go, we only heap more and more guilt upon us for (as we all know) we still struggle with sin every day.

Godly Grief leads us back to the Lord.

The easiest way to tell if the grief we are feeling is godly or worldly is in the way it affects us. Godly grief will always lead us back to the Lord. Godly grief does not trivialize our sin or shift the blame. What it does however is convict us and remind us that we need to be constantly bringing our sins to the foot of the cross. We are debtors who incur more debt each and every day. We must constantly be returning to Jesus the guilt we cannot bear.

We can tell when we are behaving in an ungodly way when our grief pulls us further away from God. It may be that we feel we must perform some penance to again get in God’s good graces. It may be that we feel we cannot turn to Scripture for a time. It may be an inability to pray. While these emotions are natural and serve to convict us of the depth of our sin, we must never allow them to be carried out. Any inclination we have to turn away from God, even if our thoughts claim it is only for a short time, we must resist though our minds condemn us. Alternatively, we must repent and confess as soon as we feel the tinge of conviction. Whether than confession is to another human or only to the Lord, we must never allow ourselves to go out in the world with unconfessed sin. This can only lead to a further spiral of sinfulness and despair.

In conclusion, here are some tips to help avoid falling into worldly grief. (Note: these are true but not easy).

How can we combat worldly grief?

1.       Repent immediately

a.       Do not allow for ‘penance’ time. Don’t buy in that lie that you need some time away from God before you repent.

b.      Do repent sincerely. Involve others if necessary (easier said than done).

2.       Do not neglect God’s Word

a.       (never, never, never)

b.      Even if the words feel empty and void.

3.       Focus only on how you can love and serve the Lord today, not on how you have failed Him in the past.

a.       Don’t be ruled by regret. For godly grief produces a repentance that leads to salvation without regret

4.       Only view your past failure in the context of God’s great grace (not on the failure of your own strength).

I Don't Deserve That

Let’s play a game, okay?

It’s called “I don’t deserve that.”

My daughter (now three) has never had any serious medical issues.

I don’t deserve that.

Despite my best efforts to poison my body with fats, artificial flavors, and preservatives, I remain healthy enough to run, hike, and keep up with my family.

I don’t deserve that.

I have a wife who inexplicably close to marry me and has put up with far more than her share of my eccentricities, neurosis, and sins.

I don’t deserve that.

A few months ago I was going through a particularly bad period. It wasn’t that life was going badly or that some catastrophic event had struck, but rather I just felt generally down for about three. It was hardest while I was at work. I was in a new job, learning to work with new people, and experiencing push back on the things I was trying to do. On one particularly low day I took out a sheet of black packing labels (they abound aplenty at my job) and started listing all the things I was thankful for. I’ve always heard (and taught) that this is a beneficial and healthy way to approach life. We can only thank the Lord for the things we are aware of. I tried not to limit my thanks to things of great significance.

My list began to look something like this:

-          For my wife for putting up with me

-          For an amazing daughter who I am completely infatuated with

-          For pine trees

-          For the ability to grow prodigious facial hair

-          For the beauty of creation in Northern Michigan

-          That I am part of the Lord’s elect

-          For the lives of X and Y [former students] who remind me how the Lord does work in people’s lives.

It went on.

I don’t deserve any of it.

I still have that list in my desk at work. I’d like to say that I return to it often, but I forget. I forget everything that the Lord has done for me. Instead I get distracted by the concerns of the day. [read: I obsess over the concerns of the day] I get depressed over events in the world. I get beaten down by the sin in my own life.

I know that the Lord has done some amazing things in my life. Paul says that “while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” This alone should prompt me to reflect and praise the Lord. However, while profound and theologically accurate, this often seems too grandiose; the words too (dare I say it) familiar at this point in my spiritual life. It fades in light of the pressing concerns of the day.

What breaks us of our familiarity is forcing ourselves to come face-to-face with the multitudes of ways in which the Lord has blessed us. We take it for granted. If we’re not careful we can flip the phrase on its head and begin uttering “I don’t deserve this” in anger when things don’t go the way we envision rather than realizing that we deserve absolutely nothing. I know myself. I know my history. I know my present. I know that I deserve none of what the Lord has blessed me with.

Some days we just need to see it.

To see it written down in ink.

The facts.

Everything.

So that we can look up again and say, with surety, “I don’t deserve that.”

And we can praise the giver of the things we don’t deserve.

2 Corinthians 6:14-18, 7:1

Do not be unequally yoked with unbelievers. For what partnership has righteousness with lawlessness? Or what fellowship has light with darkness? What accord has Christ with Belial? Or what portion does a believer share with an unbeliever? What agreement has the temple of God with idols? For we are the temples of the living God; as God said,

‘I will make my dwelling place among them and walk among them, and I will be their God, and they shall be my people.’

‘Therefore go out from their midst, and be separate from them, says the Lord, and touch no unclean thing; then I will welcome you,’

‘and I will be a father to you, and you shall be sons and daughters to me, says the Lord Almighty.’”

Since we have these promises, beloved, let us cleanse ourselves from every defilement of body and spirit, bringing holiness to completion in the fear of God.

2^nd Corinthians 6:14-18, 7:1

What does it mean to be unequally yoked? When I was a new believer (and a teenager) what I was taught that this verse meant (primarily) that I couldn’t date a non-Christian girl. Given my general dating status as a teenager this was a bit of a moot point but it was hard enough for a guy like me to get any attention from a girl let alone the tiny minority of them who were living for Christ. In short, this verse was a bummer. So the question is: is that what this verse is solely referring to? As I looked into this verse, I wanted to try and understand it as much as I could about what Paul was saying without the personal baggage I would otherwise bring into it.

The first thing that stands out is the use of the word ‘yoked’. The image this word choice conjures up is that of two oxen, yoked together, with one of the two bearing too much of the burden. One could probably get by with this scenario in a pinch, but the ultimate result would be injury to one or both of the oxen. The stronger ox might collapse under the strain. The weaker ox might become injured from pulling in an attempt to keep up.

Moving from this analogy, Paul begins a series of binary contrasts that serve to further illustrate the starkness of his point:

-          Righteous vs lawless

-          Light vs dark

-          Christ vs Belial (another name for Satan)

-          Believer vs unbeliever

-          Temple of God vs idols

Paul clearly intended these illustrations to clarify his request. The first thing to note is that these contrasts are absolute. Paul does not give us grey scenarios to try and understand. Instead, he gives us very clear cut examples. There can only be darkness in the absence of light. The believer has a clearly defined difference from unbelievers. Christ cannot associate with Satan. What the decisiveness of these examples should illustrate is that there is no middle ground in being yoked with unbelievers. The Corinthians (and us) cannot stand in-between and claim some degree of ambiguity. There is no synchronization.

Paul’s last illustration opens another avenue into illustrating the stark contrast that should be seen between the believer and the unbeliever. “What agreement has the temple of God with idols? For we are the temple of the living God,” To the Jewish Christian hearing this letter, this suggestion of defilement within the temple of God would call up images of God’s punishment and of the exile. The Temple of God was where the Spirit of the Lord resided. The purity of the Temple served as the symbol of the entire nation of Judah during the times of the Prophets. Its defilement and destruction spoke to God’s punishment of His people. The later rebuilding spoke to the lovingkindness and faithfulness of the Lord. All of these images are conjured.

To further illustrate this, Paul quotes a series of scriptures:

“I will make my dwelling among them and walk among them, and I will be their God, and they shall be my people.” This quotation is both from Leviticus AND Ezekiel. The context in Leviticus is the promise of the Lord’s blessing over the Israelites who had just been called out to be His people. The context in Ezekiel is the promise of the reconciliation of Israel and Judah—the reunion and rebirth of the promise. This quote establishes the Lord’s ownership of His people.

“Therefore go out from their midst, and be separate from them, says the Lord, and touch no unclean thing; then I will welcome you,” This quote comes from Isaiah in the context of warning the people to quickly return to Jerusalem for the time is coming when the Lord will return and reestablish his reign. They were to leave the foreign lands they had been scattered into during the Exile and the habits and traditions and idols they had come to know in those disparate places. This was a call to repentance with the understanding that the Lord’s return was imminent. Interestingly, immediately after this, Isaiah tells of the suffering servant who would to come and be lifted us.

“and I will be a father to you, and you shall be sons and daughters to me, says the Lord Almighty.” This last quotation comes from 2^nd Samuel where the Lord speaks of the relationship He would have with David and his line.

Each of these illustrations shows both the intensity with which the believer should not be yoked with the unbeliever and also emphasizes that the believer, like his spiritual progenitors, the people of Israel, is called out of this world and into the Kingdom of God.

So What?

So what are we to do with this section of 2^nd Corinthians? We cannot escape the severity to which Paul deals with this subject.

First off, I have bad news for my 15 year old self because I believe that this verse does apply to dating and marriage. Considering that the state of the Corinthian church when Paul wrote his first letter to them was a motley mix of synchronism, illicit sex, and idolatry and that the city of Corinth itself was known for these things, it seems very likely that this was at least one of Paul’s implications in writing this. Consider also that he follows this portion up with another section speaking of his concern that his last letter had grieved them (hopefully into repenting). And what did he grieve them by saying? Things such as: “Flee from sexual immorality. Every other sin a person commits is outside the body, but the sexually immoral person sins against his own body.” It is very likely that Paul is referring to inappropriate relationships between believers and unbelievers.

Even on a practical level, though, this makes sense. Just as in the analogy of the unequally yoked oxen, the ox pulling the heavier weight might weary and become injured. The believer, married to the unbeliever, may weary and lose heart without someone to shoulder some of the burden of the spiritual health of the marriage. Since marriage and sexual intimacy so closely knits two people together it only makes practical sense that the man and the woman should agree on some of the their deepest held beliefs.

However, Paul’s wording as he addresses this issue is so strong that it speaks to a more broad implication of this teaching. He never explicitly says that this concept only applies to marriage. In fact, his examples seem to imply that it is something that we all need to be concerned with. On that note we must ask ourselves two questions:

1.       What is drawing you away from God?

a.       We need to take a careful inspection of our own lives to determine what things are drawing us away from God and what things are drawing us towards God. Paul calls believers to recognize that they are called out of their former way of life and indeed out of the patterns of this world. We are not taken out of this world, of course, but our thinking should be instead focused on the spiritual and the eternal. Being that we are still physically located here on earth, it is easy to become distracted with the temporal and fleeting. Just as an unbelieving spouse exerts pressure (intended or not) upon the believer, so the other things we ‘yoke’ ourselves to also tug gently (or not so gently) at our souls. So we must ask:

                                                               i.      What relationships (of all types) are drawing me from God?

                                                             ii.      What entertainment is drawing me from God?

                                                            iii.      What business or job concerns are drawing me away from God?

                                                           iv.      What political affiliations or beliefs are drawing me away from God?

2.       Who are we being fed by?

a.       In a similar way, it is a well-known adage that we become like those we surround ourselves with. It is very hard to remain unaffected by those who live around you day in day out. Since we know this to be true, we must ask hard questions about those people we spend the most time with. Note, that I’m not saying that we necessarily stop spending time with nonbelievers. Our concern should rather be looking upon our own soul and looking at those individuals we let into the deepest areas of our confidence and lives. Who are we feeding from? What type of people do we draw our energy from and tend to emulate? Even among fellow believers, this question may lead us to spend less time (or less deep interaction) with those who don’t focus upon the Word or whom consistently display ungodly characteristics (even the ‘socially acceptable’ ones like complaining).

A good place to end is Paul’s summary exhortation in 7:1. “Since we have these promises, beloved, let us cleanse ourselves from every defilement of body and spirit, bringing holiness to completion in the fear of God.” I know of no better way to conclude this section than by repenting of those things or people whom we have yoked ourselves to instead of the Lord. 

2 Corinthians 5:20

Therefore, we are ambassadors for Christ, God making his appeal through us. We implore you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God

2^nd Corinthians 5:20

Throughout most of chapter five of 2^nd Corinthians, Paul has been laying out the implications of his revelation that the life of the believer is not his own but rather Christ’s. Through Christ, our old sinful selves have died and through Christ we have been remade into new creations (v15,17). In this revelation, Paul found his calling: namely to be a missionary church-planter committed to persuading (v11) others to know the Lord. To some extent, Paul is speaking in v20 about his specific calling. However, when we view this concept of being an ambassador for Christ alongside the calling given to all believers in Matthew 28:18-20 (the “great commission”) and Acts 1:8, we see that all believers have been entrusted with the Holy Spirit not merely for their own benefit but also to represent and expand the Kingdom of the Lord on earth.

Not Just for Pastors any more

Sadly, through poor teaching and apathetic believers, we have come to equate being on mission for Christ as the role of vocational pastors. We have confused spiritual authority with organizational preferences. I don’t say this in any way to malign vocational pastors, but I do say this to convict all of us (most importantly me) of our abdication of Christ’s calling. Through fear, lack of faith, and most notably apathy, we have outsourced our Christ-given responsibilities to over-worked, under-paid pastors upon whom too much of our own responsibilities are laid. Nowhere in Scripture does it suggest or even imply that ‘spiritual matters’ are to be the sole focus of one particular type of people. While spiritual authority is most certainly taught, it does not necessarily equate that this person be a paid employee of an organizational body. In fact, this trend (at this point it’s more than a trend) is far closer to the religious priesthood that Jesus spent so much of his life confounding. This priesthood (represented in Jesus’ day as the Pharisees and Sadducees) came out the traditions of the nation of Israel who relied upon the priesthood for sacrifices (and thus the forgiveness of sins). One must only take a glance at the words of the Prophets to see that this was not an ideal arrangement. One can also see that the Lord held Israel itself, not merely it’s political and religious leaders, responsible for lax moral behavior and idolatry. All of this should serve as a stern warning to us who find it much easier to invite our friends to church then pass them off to the pastor to have their questions answered. It should scare those of us who value the prayers of the paid clergy as more effective than our own. It should cause us to question ourselves when we have a ‘great idea for the church’ that we’d prefer someone else help administer. 

Jesus’s command in Matthew 28 and Paul’s admonition to be ambassadors for Christ are laid squarely on the head of ALL who believe. We can learn much about what is true of us and what is expected of us by thinking a bit more deeply on what it means to be an ambassador.

Ambassadors are entrusted by their country

The first way in which we can examine the role of an ambassador is in the relationship between them and the one who sends them (in the political context, a king, or president, or prime minister). An ambassador is selected and empowered to act for their nation. They have been given the responsibility and authority to represent and make decision for their nation with other nations.

We too have been called and sent out as ambassadors. “And Jesus came and said to them, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you. And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age.””

Through Christ we have been saved; adopted as children of God. Not only does our status in relationship to God change though, our purpose too has been altered. Where, prior to Christ, our purpose has been only to ourselves; our pleasure and our personal fulfillment, we have now all been given the mission of taking the message of Christ in the world and facilitating reconciliation. As we have seen in 2^nd Corinthians, this task is not optional of believers for we know that our lives are no longer our own but rather our Lord’s. It is far too easy to fall into the trap of living safe, comfortable lives that more closely mirror our unbelieving neighbors than they do the Lord.

Not only are we chosen and called, we are also empowered by the Holy Spirit. We are no longer simply human beings whose allegiance has been shifted. Through the power of the Holy Spirit we have been given access to supernatural resources designed to bring glory to the Creator. Too often we shy away from our roles as ambassadors out of fear or lack of confidence. This should not be as we have been given power to accomplish our task by the Lord of the Heavens (my own soul shakes in humiliation in this regard).

Ambassadors represent their country to outsiders

The second way in which thinking about the role of the ambassador can help us understand our calling in Christ is by thinking of the way in which an ambassador relates to the host country. In most situations, the ambassador lives in his assigned country. He is an alien, not a native, but sent out to reflect his homeland’s interests to others. This mirrors our situation in two regards.

First, we too live as aliens in a foreign land. We are eternal creatures, redeemed and destined for an eternity of praising the Lord in His presence. Yet, now, for a while, we live here in the transient, fallen world. Our home is in that far off country. Too often, we are tempted, through our short-sighted eyes, to forget that our home and our allegiance is elsewhere. When we do so, we lose focus. We forget the calling which we have been given. We begin to closely resemble those around whom we live, work, and play. Faulty thinking about which kingdom we belong to results in believers living lives unworthy of the calling to which they have been called. Here too, we all bear witness to our guilt.

Secondly, ambassadors represent their home country to their host country. In lieu of the direct authority, the ambassador is the voice of his nation. In His infinite wisdom and grace, the Lord has chosen to call us unworthy people to be his representatives on earth in this age. I cannot fathom why, since angels could and have proclaimed his glory in ways in which we pale to compare, except to say that perhaps it is our very fallen-ness that demonstrates His infinite grace, and that by demonstrating this overflowing grace He puts His glory on display for all creation. To put it another way, in using us to fulfill his commission, He demonstrates that He can use anything to accomplish His purposes (4:7-10).

In our relations to those whom we encounter on a daily basis, we are the ambassadors for God. To see us is to see the power and grace of God. We are living testaments to both His might and His mercy. We are the monument to His character. In and of ourselves we are nothing. Yet we have been given the role and the voice to bring the message of Christ to this world. When we become merely content to live lives of comfort and self-gratification, we ignore the purpose to which we were called. We do this to our own misfortune for one day we will, like the men in the parable of the talents, be made to answer before the throne of God.

We are not simply people who intellectually assent to a set of moral teachings. We are not simply regular people who happen to believe a certain set of creeds. We are missionaries called to go out into our families, and neighborhoods, and jobs, and into all of our interactions carrying with us the fire of the Holy Spirit and the Love of Christ. The methods and minutia will, of course, vary greatly depending upon the context. We may encounter many situations in which the only course of action is to entrust our neighbors in prayer to the Holy God. But perhaps, just perhaps, we may be the only one praying for them. We may be the only voice able to speak into the life of a coworker. The mystery of God’s timing and means far exceeds our meager comprehension but what remains is this: we all, unworthy as we are, have been called out and empowered by a Holy God to carry His message, His gospel to the world. This is our calling. This is our privilege. This is our duty to the one who saved us our sins and death, fulfills our every need, and empowers us to do His will. We should all be humbled yet eager.

2 Corinthians 5:14-17

For the love of Christ controls us, because we have concluded this: that one has died for all, therefore all have died; and he died for all, that those who live might no longer live for themselves but for him who for their sake died and was raised.

From now on, therefore, we regard no one according to the flesh. Even though we once regarded Christ according to the flesh, we regard him thus no longer. Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come.

2 Corinthians 5:14-17

As he has been doing, Paul continues to justify and elaborate upon the ministry to which he has been called. He states his purpose in v11 (to persuade others) and shows in v12 and v13 that it is not to gain the acclaim of men that they serve. Rather it is to serve God. They are doing what they were called to do not so much for the sake of the calling but because of the one who called them. Their judge is the Lord, not man. That is why they can claim that: “For if we are beside ourselves, it is for God.” They preach because they have been called by the Lord Most High.

From this place, Paul pauses to elaborate upon the implications of their message (the gospel). As missionaries, their actions (or calling) are the results of the gospel affecting them. But what truly happens in the heart of the one whom Christ calls? The answer to this question is relevant to all who call themselves believers because it is not only to missionary preaching or church-planting that Christ calls us. Our Lord calls each of us to be his disciples, to live a life of radical dependence and empowered service.

We concluded, He controls

For the love of Christ controls us, because we have concluded this: that one has died for all, therefore all have died.

Paul asserts that he and his co-laborers (or more generally, all believers) are controlled by the love of Christ. This is a bold claim, both for himself and, most certainly, for us. I know that I certainly don’t feel controlled by the love of Christ most days. Rather, I find myself controlled by greed, lust, comfort, fear, and a host of other forces that press in upon me. Even in the service of Christ, many of us are awash in conflicting motives and emotions that war within us with the will of God.

Look closely at the timeline of v14. Though the statement: “the love of Christ controls us” comes first, it only does so because Paul has come to a conclusion. This conclusion predates the love of Christ’s control. While this may seem to be grammatical minutia, please bear with me. What is it that Paul has come to the conclusion of? Namely, that one man (Jesus Christ) died and that all men (us) have been substitutionally united in His death. More than that, Paul has become convinced of the great implication of this fact: that those for whom Christ has died do not live for themselves but rather for Christ.

Paul came to understand this. He came to understand that he was no longer his own. Through Christ’s death, he too had died and therefore, through Christ’s resurrection, he too was resurrected. Paul’s life was no longer Paul’s life--- it was Christ’s. He no longer had any claim to control or comfort on his existence. His life was like a bottle that had been emptied of its contents and being thus emptied, was now able to be refilled by the love of Christ.

What this means for us is that calling ourselves Christians isn’t enough. It isn’t enough to intellectually assent to a set of beliefs. It is not enough even to do good works for the Lord. Without understanding that our lives are not our own, all of these good things are empty and void, simply another manifestation of our selfish desires. Even worse, to do so on our own masks our selfish and sinful desires with the sheen of altruism.

All of us, those who have been raised as Christians and those who have come later to the faith, must look deeply at our own hearts. It is dreadfully easy to mistake action for conviction, to substitute good deeds for right motives. Those of us who oftentimes doubt that the love of Christ controls us must cast aside the pretension of looking like a ‘Good Christian’ however long we have been in the Church and ask deep, hard questions. Am I still living for myself? Sure, I may not outwardly disobey God as much anymore but are my actions actually motivated by Christ or are they simply another activity that I am choosing to participate in? Only when we wrestle with the understanding that we hold no claim on our lives, no claim to likes or dislikes, personal preferences or prejudices, can we ever fully be controlled by the love of Christ. Without that understanding and surrender, our the Lord will answer us as he did the people of Israel when he spoke through Isaiah: “Then the Lord said, “Because this people draw near with their words and honor me with their lip service, but they remove their hearts far from me and their reverence for me consists of tradition learned by rote,”.

How we view our lives is Christ determines the axis point in our life.

This understanding that our life is no longer our own serves as the axis point of our lives. Until we reach that point of comprehension we are simply trying to pour new wine into old wineskins. Once we reach that tipping point however (though we must also surrender to it again every morning) we can begin to see the world in new ways. Paul gives three examples, two of which I will highlight here.

First, with the understanding that the life of the believer is no longer his own, we no longer can see men and women as simply a collection of their past actions or a compilation of attributes. From now on, therefore, we regard no one according to the flesh. Not only should we be living lives free of rampant prejudice, we also must recognize each other not as Jane Doe living her own life, but rather the love of Christ residing in and acting through Jane. Our respect for each other should rise dramatically since we are truly witnessing Christ working through our humble vessels. We must train our eyes to see not merely the material affairs but also to recognize the unseen, the spiritual events unfolding before us.

Secondly, with our new understanding that it is not we who control our lives, but Christ, we can come to see the real world applications of this thought. Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come. If we can see that our lives are not our own, but rather Christ’s, then we can truly see ourselves not just as the same person we were, but rather a new creature entirely. This has many implications only some of which include: freedom from the guilt and shame of our past sins and the freedom to live out Christ’s will for us. Our old self that longed for control and selfish desires is dead and buried in the grave. In its place is the Holy Spirit who longs to comfort us, direct us, and guide us. We must remember each morning as we rise to put to death the old self and awake in the full reality of the new. We are not what we once were. We are a new creation, whose life and will exists now to serve the will of Christ. We have no claim of ownership to ourselves but rather owe all that we are to Christ who has given us this new birth. We can walk in freedom for the chains of sin and death have been removed by the blood of Christ. To the one who saved us, who freed us, who recreated us, we owe everything. Let us strive to give everything.

2 Corinthians 4:16-18, 5:6-9

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.

So we are always of good courage. We know that while we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord, for we walk by faith, not by sight. Yes, we are of good courage, and we would rather be away from the body and at home with the Lord. So whether we are at home or away, we make it our aim to please Him.

2^nd Corinthians 4:16-18, 5:6-9

In 2^nd Corinthians 4:7-10, Paul laid out the reason that we continue to live our lives as fragile, fickle, and frail individuals: it is to show that the power demonstrated in our lives belongs to the Lord and the Lord alone. Clearly it does not reside in us. Our sin demonstrates that our righteousness is not born of us. The flimsy nature of our physical bodies shows that it is not some personal might that gives us confidence. Our doubts and struggles illustrates that it is not some reservoir of inner resolve that compels us. It is only the Lord, through His grace and by His Spirit that we persevere.

Because of this Paul can speak with assurance about our current state. He confidently asserts in v16: “So we do not lose heart.” As before, Paul demonstrates the effect of his faith in his own circumstances (persecution) to encourage his audience to do the same. In this section, he addresses three major points:

With the Christian Life comes affliction

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,

Paul does not deny that through persecution, and indeed life itself, the outer self is wasting away. What is our outer self? It is our bodies, our physical manifestation on this earth. Taken a bit more metaphorically, our outer self can be the affairs of this world, our finances, our prestige, or our families. Whether through direct service of Christ or simply through the frailty of our form, we are wearing down, wearing away. Paul doesn’t whitewash the hardship this life of serving Christ will bear us. He doesn’t conform to the notion that opposition is tantamount to failure. Jesus, in fact, says the contrary: “In the world you will have tribulation.” And later: “I have given them the word, and the world has hated them because they are not of the world.”

Jesus certainly isn’t indicating opposition as failure, He actually borders on asserting the contrary. We need to give up the notion that opposition whether spiritual, physical, or mental will somehow fade away if we only followed God more, only loved God more. On the contrary, we should expect these things.

Affliction Prepares Glory

Paul tells us what our heart should be like in the midst of affliction though: “our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comprehension.

First he asserts that in spite of the degradation of their physical lives, their inner lives are being renewed. This is the work of the Spirit in us. It renews. It brings us strength when we have none of our own to offer. The trick for us is to live in expectancy of that strength. Too often, when the affairs of the world turn against me, when ministry seems dead, when justice is absent, I become morose and live my life as a put-upon bitter soul. This should not be. When we are at our weakest, our most beaten-down, we must ask for and expect the renewing strength of the Spirit.

Secondly, Paul confirms that our affliction is A) light and B) momentary. It is only when we view affliction and indeed this life within the proper timeline of eternity that we can find solace in its brevity. For many of us though this is too much. We simply cannot see beyond the day; simply cannot see beyond the oppression; beyond the pain. In no way does this minimize the fact that the pain is real or that the injustice is real but it does view these things within their proper context--- eternal life. For many of us, this means we have to take a real hard look at our belief system. Is eternity something that we doctrinally assent to or is it a reality that is ingrained in our very being? If we do not believe (in the deepest possible way) in eternity, the trials and oppression of life in this world will always loom large. And why not? If this life is all there is, and pain and suffering such a big element of it, what reason is there to claim any hope or victory? We must constantly preach to our hearts that this is not so; that the only proper way to view suffering is to see it as a mere pin-prick in the expanse of eternal life.

Thirdly, Paul says not only is affliction momentary and light, but it also is preparing for us a reward further down the line. While he does not elaborate on it here, we can, by inference, imagine this as one of the great mysteries of heaven. Compared to what is coming, our troubles, intense as they may be, are nothing compared to the glory of the Lord that we will experience.

We walk by faith, not by sight

With this consolation, Paul moves on to describe a lifestyle in which suffering, and indeed all aspects of this life, are viewed in their proper context: “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.” And later: “we walk by faith, not by sight.”

This is where the rubber meets the road for us. Here Paul describes a way of viewing the world in which we are not overcome with worry or undue preoccupation with the physical, material realm (i.e. materialism) but rather “see” through our faith. The concerns of this world are not unimportant (or irrelevant) but trifling in comparison to the rest of our eternal life. Our reactions (here is the hard part) should remain grounded in light of eternity and not based on the immediate nature of the trouble or threat surrounding us. Opposition should not perplex us. Worry should not cripple us. Financial woes should not upset us. Sickness and death should not morbidly oppress us. We can all testify to our weakness in this regard.

So how do we see life in this way?

1.       Surround yourself with God’s word. We cannot believe what we do not know. If we want to be influenced by what God has to tell us then we must integrate it as fully into our lives as we able. Read it. Study it. Memorize it (ick). Meditate on it.

2.       Confess, confess, confess our weakness and frailty to the Lord. He knows what we are. He knows how fragile and fickle our bodies and minds are. Only by confessing our failures can we expect to experience different results.

3.       Expect affliction, react slowly. I don’t know about anyone else, but my first reaction to anything is usually bad. I let slip my words far too easily. I stress far too quickly. We must go into life expecting affliction but also expecting the resolve to overcome it (the renewal of v16). We must also delay reacting. Give yourself time to view the trouble within its proper context.

4.       Surround yourself with fellow foresighted believers. This is good advice for nearly anything within the Christian faith but is most pointedly so here. Too many believers live with a victim mentality. We expect the temptation, the persecution, the affliction, but live as practical materialists with no real belief in the eternal life and therefore give ourselves over to wallowing in our trouble and complaining about our problems. Neither of these should have any place within the Christian faith. We must be discerning with those we surround ourselves with (in this I mean with those whom we allow into the deepest parts of our lives, not just physical proximity) because we can quickly get pulled into a spirit of despair.

Nobody likes affliction. No one likes to be sick or have their plans foiled. We all long for heaven. We long to live in the presence of the Lord where there are no tears. While we are here however we are faced with the inevitability of troubles. We should however, take Paul’s final piece of advice in this section to heart, that in whether we are taken away to heaven or left to continue the work on this earth we should “make it our aim to please Him.”