Tag: suffering

Leaving Nazareth

By Ife J. Ibitayo

Jesus Christ was a country boy. He was raised in a Podunk town in the backwaters of Judea. The geographic blip was so inconsequential even one of Jesus’ own disciples said, “Nazareth! Can anything good come from there” (John 1:46)?

Yet Nazareth was also Jesus’ home. It was where His parents, siblings, and childhood friends lived (Mark 6:3).  It was where his mother taught him how to walk and his father how to woodwork. Sadly, Nazareth was also where Jesus suffered his first rejection. Here Jesus uttered the words, “A prophet is not without honor except in His own town, among His relatives and in His own home (Mark 6:4).” In Nazareth’s synagogue he declared His mission to “bind up the brokenhearted and set the captives free” (Luke 4:1). Yet it was the only place in all of scripture “He was not able to heal many sick because of their lack of faith” (Mark 6:5). So with a heavy heart, Jesus had to leave Nazareth.

The Challenge of Leaving Nazareth

As I sit on an aircraft right now, flying back to Washington D.C. for the last time, I think of the “Nazareth” I’ll soon be leaving as well. My experience was nothing like Jesus’. Here I forged friendships I hope to carry with me till I die. I recovered from old wounds I never thought would mend. And my vision for my future crystallized so clearly I can almost taste it. But almost is just not good enough.

Within three months of when I landed in this great city, God told me I would be leaving. With my eyes set on Los Angeles, I’ve often found myself wondering why leaving Nazareth is so hard for me.

The Pain of Leaving Nazareth

As I mentioned earlier, Nazareth is home. And home is familiar. Whenever we step into God’s calling for our lives, it will be uncomfortable. The shy girl will have to stand up and speak out for the needs of the silent. The clean freak will have to get their hands dirty to serve the homeless and destitute. The introvert will have to reach out and bring the lonely into their family. Comfort is not something any of us part with willingly.  

Secondly, Nazareth is old. We have old friendships we can tap into and old haunts we can visit. We have established roots that help us weather the fiercest storms of life. But when we enter into the new, everything changes. We have to find a new job, a new home, and a new family. No wonder Jesus said, “everyone who has left houses or brothers or sisters or father or mother or wife or children or fields for my sake will receive a hundred times as much and will inherit eternal life” (Matthew 19:29). He was speaking from personal experience. When Jesus left His throne in heaven, His family of the Father and the Spirit, and His home of heaven, His heart must have broken. And it must have shattered again when He left His earthly home too.

The Reward of Leaving Nazareth

But an essential shift took place when Jesus left Nazareth. Matthew 6 says “Leaving Nazareth, He went and lived in Capernaum which was by the lake in the area of Zebulun and Naphtali— to fulfill what was said through the prophet Isaiah: Land of Zebulun and land of Naphtali, the Way of the Sea beyond the Jordan, Galilee of the Gentiles—the people living in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of the shadow of death a light has dawned (Luke 6:13-16). In order to be where God wanted Him to be, Jesus had to leave Nazareth.

And so it is with us. That well-paying job is our Nazareth. That steady girlfriend is our Nazareth. Or even that up-and-coming city with booming nightlife is our Nazareth. But if Jesus clung onto His Nazareth, He never would have laid hold of heaven. We too have a heaven to reach, and a cross lays between us and the haven we seek. But every step of this grand adventure will be worth leaving Nazareth.

“‘Truly I tell you,'” Jesus replied, ‘no one who has left home or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or fields for me and the gospel will fail to receive a hundred times as much in this present age: homes, brothers, sisters, mothers, children and fields—along with persecutions—and in the age to come eternal life.'”

(Mark 10:30)

In Defense of Winter

By Ife J. Ibitayo

I hate winter. January and February are some of the hardest months of the year for me. The holidays have passed, and summer is too far away as the icy winter chill freezes my body into a corpsicle.

I never understood the profound mental impact of seasons until I moved north. I’ve always lived in warm places—California, Florida, Texas—so winter was always just a welcome reprieve from the sun’s incessant heat. Summer never really ended. It just retreated for a few months to regather its strength.

But here in Virginia, winter signals death. All animal life dies or burrows deep. And trees deform into ugly scarecrows, pointing leafless stubs into the heavens as if to accuse God, “You did this to me!”

A couple years ago, when I first experienced winter here in Virginia, I found myself asking God, “Why did you create this horrendous season? Why can’t we just skip from fall to spring?” Since then, He has ministered to me a couple valuable truths about winter.

Winter Prepares Our Bodies

One of the first articles I read about the benefit of winter said, “Many plants need shorter days and lower temperatures to become dormant. This way, plants can store up energy for new growth. If a fruit tree doesn’t have enough chilling time, it will produce fewer, weaker buds.”

Similarly, in the intervening months between the holiday season and spring, we just can’t do as much outside, and we interact less with others. This extra time is not wasted, but much like the fruit tree, gives us time to grow deep roots and prepare for the spring of rapid growth. If you’re like me, a born workaholic, work is the given, and rest is a rarity. I often don’t slow down until I’m forced to by exhaustion, sickness, external circumstances, or all of the above. Winter is one of those circumstances. It forces me to slow down now so that I can speed up when the appointed time arrives later.

Winter Prepares Our Eyes

Secondly, you can’t truly appreciate spring without winter. An Indian friend of mine once joked that India has three seasons: hot, hotter, and hottest. And this statement resonated deeply in my sunbaked Texan bones.

But here in Virginia, everything dies in winter: insects, trees, joggers (at least that’s what I assume happens to them). Beauty vanishes for months, replaced by monotonous sheets of grey and white. But when spring arrives, my attention is always arrested by the riot of revived life. Songbirds wake me up in the morning as they sing from newly formed nests on sprouting redbuds. The sun sinks just a little later, allowing me to be awed by dazzling purple and red sunsets. Only the cold dark of winter prepared my eyes to appreciate the bright daybreak of spring.

Conclusion

I am convinced that winter will always be my least favorite season. But its also had the most profound impact on my life. The cold months of suffering I’ve braved, both literally and existentially, have dramatically shaped the man I now am. Any seed of resilience, courage, patience, and longsuffering that’s flowered in my life today was planted in the cold, hard soil of winter. So even if I never come to cherish that season, I will always defend it.

“There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens.”

(Ecclesiastes 3:1)

A Tale of Two Years

By Ife. J. Ibitayo

I’ve been replaying the highlights of 2021 in my head a lot. Like a CD on repeat, I first think:

2021 was a terrible year. It started with horrific loneliness. For months I didn’t see any of my friends or family members. I would often call up my mom because “I just needed to talk.” Then followed the most stressful months of work I’ve ever had on the job. I shouldered a workload that would have been reserved for a whole team if I were working at a larger company. Then spring gave way to a summer of crushing rejection. I was rejected romantically and disappointed professionally. Then my year wrapped up with someone in my family being diagnosed with cancer and an SUV nearly running me over.

Another Year

But then I hit the pause button and flip over to the B-side of my memories, and I start the recording over again:

2021 was a tremendous year! It was a year of firsts: my first publication, my first date, and my first raise. From when I got vaccinated in last April, the world popped with technicolor and neon light. I was finally able to return to church, eating out, and hanging out. It was a year of healing. The high blood pressure I was diagnosed with in late 2020 vanished by early 2021 for no apparent reason. The anxiety and stress I’ve struggled with for the past several years dissipated as the LORD filled me with His peace. A family member of mine recovered miraculously from an invasive surgery. And God protected me from a speeding SUV that decided it liked the sidewalk better than the highway!

Which version of 2021 is reality? Was it a terrible year with glimpses of the tremendous or a tremendous year with flashes of the terrible?

Conclusion

CNN’s 2021 “Year in Pictures” captures a glimpse of the global lows and highs of these past twelve months. 2021 was the year of Delta and Omicron, capitol rioting, and the acquittal of Kyle Rittenhouse, but it was also the year of record high vaccinations, the completion of the 2020 Summer Olympics, and the conviction of Ahmaud Arbery’s murderers. It was a year of tears for everyone, both of sorrow and of joy.

When I look back on 2021, I don’t think I’ll ever recollect it fondly. Yet I know it was profoundly important. I’ve seen myself from new vantage points that I didn’t have the perspective for last year. These trials have exercised my soul in ways my pleasant childhood never could have. And I’ve seen a similar pattern among my friends and family members as well.

New leaders have stepped up in church and the community. A complacent generation has been roused to its feet by being forced to its knees. And an unrelenting virus has breathed new life into spiritual realities by taking our breath away.

“And we know that God causes everything to work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to His purpose for them. For God knew His people in advance, and He chose them to become like His Son, so that His Son would be the firstborn among many brothers and sisters.”

(Romans 8:28-29)

It is Well?

By Ife J. Ibitayo

November is the month of gratitude. Ever year we take this opportunity to commemorate God’s goodness over the past ten months. But I’ve been wondering, does that make sense in 2021?

By early October, more people had died from COVID this year than in 2020. Our great nation has wrought tragedy in Afghanistan and at the border. Wildfires, hurricanes, and earthquakes have shaken countries across the globe. And the pangs of injustice continue to reverberate as jury selection for Ahmaud Arbery’s shooting stumbles along. 

On a personal note, 2021 has been one of my most brutal years yet. Crippling heartbreak, debilitating loneliness, and mind-snapping stress all marked this past year for me. I resonate deeply with the laments of Jeremiah in his heart-rending Lamentations: “I remember my affliction and my wandering, the bitterness and the gall. I well remember them, and my soul is downcast within me” (Lamentations 3:19-20).

And so, I ask again, does gratitude make sense this year?

Though Trials Should Come

My question rests upon the false premise that ease is normal and suffering abnormal. I grew up in a happy, upper-middle class home in Hispanic suburbia. I never wanted for food or home. I wasn’t bullied at school, and I succeeded academically. This blissful bubble was part of the reason why I was shocked by the hardships I experienced in college, grad school, and beyond.

Jesus Himself said, “Here on earth you will have many trials and sorrows” (John 16:33). The apostles added, “We must go through many hardships to enter the kingdom of God” (Acts 14:22). And Apostle Paul concluded, “You know that we are destined for such troubles” (1 Thessalonians 3:3). The overwhelming assertion of the Bible is that life on this earth will be filled with grueling challenges and soul-rending let downs.

Whatever My Lot

And yet, we often forget this because we swim in the deep seas of God’s benevolent mercies. Matthew 5:45 says, “He causes His sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous.” It’s only when the sun fails and the rain dries up that we look up, remember God, and curse Him.

Many days I found myself face down in the carpet, crying out to God to relieve my romantic anguish. But only from that low vantage point could I see with new appreciation the ready acceptance and love I receive from my friends and family. Only when I was cooped up in my apartment for several agonizing months did I realize how much I took for granted the weekly graces of church and fellowship. Suffering did not black out my reasons for gratitude but threw them in stark relief.

It Is Well

I remember the story of Horatio Spafford, a successful lawyer and businessman who lived a couple hundred years ago. He had it all, a loving family and a thriving company. But then, in an instant, he didn’t.

First, his young son died of pneumonia. Then the great Chicago fire decimated his business. Then a day before Thanksgiving Day 1873, he lost all four of his daughters in a horrendous ocean liner accident.

On his way to his grieving wife, he penned these famous words: “When peace like a river attendeth my way, when sorrows like sea billows roll, whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say, it is well, it is well with my soul.”

I’ve come to believe that gratitude is less a product of our physical position than our spiritual perspective. Yes, these past couple years have been terrible. But my God has been good. He was good to me before 2020, and He’s been good to me during 2021. And He will continue to be good to me next year and forevermore.

“Enjoy prosperity while you can, but when hard times strike, realize that both come from God. Remember that nothing is certain in this life.”

(Ecclesiastes 7:14)

Goldfish from Heaven

By Ife J. Ibitayo

There is one snack I’ve never grown tired of. These orange, fish-shaped munchables come equipped with a quirky grin. I even remember the jingle: “The snack that smiles back: Goldfish.” But as I wrapped up my shopping at Wal-Mart this past week, I realized how creepy a concept that is.

We often go out of our way to make food look as little like the original animal as we can. We don’t want to see the strangled chicken or the gutted cow or the suffocated fish with its glassy eyes. When we see such things, it reminds us of the pain the creature experienced to become our sustenance. Yet cheddar goldfish gladly smiles at us as we mangle, pound, and chew away at it.

The Mangling, Pounding and Chewing of Jesus

Using similarly graphic language, Jesus said, “Whoever feeds on My flesh and drinks My blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up on the last day. For My flesh is true food, and My blood is true drink” (John 6:54-55).

In an Old Testament passage on the suffering servant, the prophet Isaiah says, “He was pierced for our transgressions, He was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on Him, and by His wounds we are healed” (Isaiah 53:5). In order to become our salvific supper, Jesus’ back was mangled by lashes, His wrists pounded by nails, and His back chewed up by a rough, splintering cross.

The Smile of Jesus

Yet the prophet Isaiah goes on to say, “the Lord was pleased to crush Him severely” (Isaiah 53:10). The Father actually delighted in crushing His Son on the cross. And even Jesus Himself, “for the joy set before Him endured the cross” (Hebrews 12:2). What’s going on here?

God loves us so much that He was willing to become our divine goldfish, our sacred snack that smiles back. As He suffered for our sins, He smiled because He knew that His beating would mean our healing (Isaiah 53:5), His abandonment our adoption (Galatians 4:4-5), and His death our life (Romans 6:4).

Conclusion

I lied. There are actually two snacks I’ve never grown tired of throughout the years. The second, the goldfish from heaven, is not a meal to be partaken once but every day. As we enter into this coming month of November, let’s start—not end—with Thanksgiving. Let’s appreciate and worship our Savior who rejoiced as He suffered for sinners like you and me.

“Surely He took up our pain and bore our suffering, yet we considered Him punished by God, stricken by Him, and afflicted. But he was pierced for our transgressions, He was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on Him, and by his wounds we are healed.

“Yet it was the Lord’s will to crush Him and cause Him to suffer, and though the Lord makes His life an offering for sin, He will see His offspring and prolong His days,
and the will of the Lord will prosper in His hand.”

(Isaiah 53:4-5, 11)

Joy in the Midst of Pain (In the Midst of Pt. 2)

By Ife J. Ibitayo

For Part 1, “Peace in the Midst of Trouble”, click here.

The book of Philippians is apostle Paul’s happiest letter by far. He mentions joy or rejoicing sixteen times and nearly a third of these references speak to his present joy (Philippians 1:4, Philippians 1:18, Philippians 2:17, Philippians 4:1, Philippians 4:10). You’d think that he’s on vacation or visiting one of his prospering churches. But Paul pens his sunniest epistle amidst some of his greatest suffering—imprisonment in a dark, dirty prison cell.

Joy in Christ

Paul’s first and greatest joy was Jesus Christ. He rejoiced in living because that meant that he got to continue working for Christ (Philippians 1:22). He rejoiced in dying because that meant that he’d get to be with Christ (Philippians 1:23). And he rejoiced in his suffering because it was furthering the gospel of Christ (Philippians 1:13).

Jesus is our north star. He’s that fixed point in space that orients us when the storms of life come. When those without God suffer, they have reason to despair. When they are dumped, diagnosed, or defeated, “the Universe” shrugs its shoulders and tell them they got the short end of the stick. But God tells us believers that all suffering will bring us closer to who He created us to be (Romans 8:28-29).

Joy in Others

Paul’s second joy was other people. Paul started off the book of Philippians by saying, “Every time I think of you, I give thanks to my God. Whenever I pray, I make my requests for all of you with joy, for you have been my partners in spreading the Good News about Christ from the time you first heard it until now” (Philippians 1:3-5). Paul was born to be a missionary, that was the pride and joy of his life. But instead of mourning his loss, he rejoiced that others shared his vision and carried on the torch.

He also rejoiced in his relationship with his friends. The Philippians were his joy and crown (Philippians 4:1). And he wrote this letter to encourage them to remain strong. When suffering closes in, we have a tendency to curl up. We want to detach from others and focus on ourselves. But we can find joy by following Paul’s example—remembering the loving care of those around us and finding ways to serve them.

Joy in Contentment

Paul found his ultimate joy in contentment. Some of the most powerful words in the entire New Testament are found in Philippians 4:12-13:  “I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all things through Him who strengthens me.”

Discontent people will always be unhappy. No matter how many blessings the LORD lavishes upon on them, there will always be just one more thing they need. But content people trust in God. So they can be happy no matter their present sufferings.

Conclusion

Paul was the apostle of pain. He was baptized into the faith with the prophecy: “I will show him how much he must suffer for My name” (Acts 9:16).  With bruises and beatings, sleepless nights and shipwrecks, Paul endured more than many of us ever will even if we lived ten lifetimes. Yet he was also happier than many of us ever will be too. If we focus on Christ, love on others, and mature in contentment, we too can begin to sing in the midst of our dungeons.

“We are pressed on every side by troubles, but we are not crushed. We are perplexed, but not driven to despair.  We are hunted down, but never abandoned by God. We get knocked down, but we are not destroyed. Through suffering, our bodies continue to share in the death of Jesus so that the life of Jesus may also be seen in our bodies.”

(2 Corinthians 4:8-10)

Bad Pain, Good God, Righteous People

By Ife J. Ibitayo

“Why does a good God allow bad pain?” Christians and unbelievers alike have grappled with this tough question for generations. Our human condition makes us struggle to find purpose in pain. That is why in a parable Jesus said, “The seed on the rocky soil represents those who hear the message and immediately receive it with joy. But since they don’t have deep roots, they don’t last long. They fall away as soon as they have problems or are persecuted for believing God’s word” (Matthew 13:20-21 NLT). We all have a Judas within us, and this traitor reveals himself when suffering arises.

Bad Pain

Judas cuts right to the heart of one of the main reasons we suffer. We are broken people living in a broken world with broken hearts. The English poet Alexander Pope once said, “To err is human.” The only consistent thing about us is that we’ll consistently fall short of other people’s standards, our own, and—above all—God’s.

Romans 3:23 says, “All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.” And to fall short of God’s glorious standard is to be subject to His holy wrath. As Adam and Eve ate the forbidden fruit and were condemned to death, we all have also taken a bite, and we’re subject to a thousand little deaths each day. We chronically overeat and, and the doctor diagnoses us with diabetes. Our friend sleeps in, and we miss our final exam. A stranger is texting while they’re driving, and they swerve into our lane. We suffer bad consequences because we commit evil deeds.

Good God

Yet bad things in this life cannot nullify God’s good promises. “I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the LORD, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end” (Jeremiah 29:11 KJV). This promise means that all suffering—caused by our sins, the sins of others, or unlucky happenstance—are part of God’s “expected end”–plan for our lives.

Romans 8:28, one of the most famous passages of scripture, reads, “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” Unfortunately, it is often divorced from the following verse: “For God knew his people in advance, and he chose them to become like his Son, so that his Son would be the firstborn among many brothers and sisters” (Romans 8:29 NLT).

Righteous People

The crucible of suffering, tuned to the right heat and extended for the correct duration, most quickly produces righteousness in us. Consider some of the most famous moral leaders of the past century–Mother Teresa and Martin Luther King Jr.). These leaders did not become the spiritual compasses of their respective nations in spite of the suffering they endured but because of it.

Mother Teresa ministered her whole life in some of the greatest squalor in the world. And she struggled for decades with an acute sense of abandonment by the same God she professed to serve. Martin Luther King Jr. was beaten by cops, bombed by segregationists, and terminated by a bullet to the brain.

The Son of God too was subject to a hard life. He had no place to call home (Matthew 8:20). He was rejected by his family and hometown (Mark 6:4) and persecuted by the religious leaders of His day (Matthew 12:23-24). And that’s not even mentioning the crux of Jesus’ greatest suffering here on this earth: the crucifixion.

If the Father found the crucible of suffering to be meaningful for His own perfect Son (Hebrews 5:8), how much more for His other imperfect children like us?

Conclusion

The world we live in is broken, and we are too. Bad news and bad circumstances may threaten to kill our faith. But if we can come to trust our heavenly Father “who works all things according to the counsel of His will” (Ephesians 1:11), our faith can grow along with our character.

“Dear brothers and sisters, when troubles of any kind come your way, consider it an opportunity for great joy. For you know that when your faith is tested, your endurance has a chance to grow. So let it grow, for when your endurance is fully developed, you will be perfect and complete, needing nothing.”

(James 1:2-4 NLT)

The Love of the LORD (Love Is… Part 3)

By Ife J. Ibitayo

For Part 1, “Love is Patient”, click here. For Part 2, “Love is Kind”, click here.

I hate my name. Let me explain why before my mom dials me with a very angry phone call. My full name is Ifeoluwa, meaning the “Love of the LORD.” In Nigerian culture, names carry weight. They describe who you are called to be from cradle to grave. And through my few decades of living, I can already see how short I fall of my own.

Loving Through Rebuffing

December 25, 2015 was my first opportunity to play a Christmas playlist I curated for my family. At 7 AM, I began blasting the great classics like “What Christmas Means to Me” and “I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas.” If you don’t recognize those songs, don’t worry, neither did my family. And they gently asked me to put on some more traditional Christmas tracks.

I grated at their lack of appreciation and dragged my little brother downstairs, certain he’d value my awesome musical selections. Being slightly more interested in his Christmas presents, he didn’t, and I shoved him. I hadn’t ever laid hands on my little brother like that, and for me to attack for him something so trivial shook me.

Speaking of the Israelites as the little children in His life, God said through the prophet Hosea, “‘When Israel was a child, I loved him, and out of Egypt I called My son. But the more they were called, the more they went away from Me. They sacrificed to the Baals, and they burned incense to images. It was I who taught Ephraim to walk, taking them by the arms; but they did not realize it was I who healed them” (Hosea 11:1-13 NIV).

God’s own children abandoned Him. They turned their backs on Him and spurned His loving care. They took His blessings but rejected His instruction. Yet His faithful love for them never wavered. He healed them graciously, deferred His wrath mercifully, and disciplined them justly. He was never fickle or petty. In other words, He wasn’t like me.

Loving Through Suffering

My college experience encompassed the most trying years of my life. I spoke of the loneliness I endured during that season in a previous article. But that was only a small drop in the toxic brew that made my experience so bitter. A large source of my pain stemmed from my relationship with a professor I studied under.

My first year with him, he was distant. I could count the number of times I had a private conversation with him on one hand. The next, he was too close for comfort. He’d reach out at all manner of day and night, demanding results and pushing expectations. His moods whipped with the wind, from sunny and jovial one day to stormy and irritable the next. The pressure of his demands drove me to my very breaking point, and his hurtful words stabbed deep into my soul.

Nearing graduation, I vowed to forgive him for everything he’d done, but I always remained on edge in his presence. And after I graduated, every time I thought of him, the old pain would resurface, and I’d have to turn my thoughts to other things.

Yet Jesus begged His Father while being murdered on the cross, “‘Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing’” (Luke 23:24 NIV). The God of love was able to forgive those who only took from Him, while I struggled to forgive a man who contributed to where I am today.

Conclusion

I am not Ifeoluwa. I am not the “Love of the LORD.” I am not Jesus. But my saving grace is that Jesus is Jesus. He loved me even when I hated Him. He will continue to teach me how to be more like my Father because He’s made me His son. And through His work on the inside of me, I’ll bear a little more resemblance to the tremendous name I’ve been given.

“This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins.”

(1 John 4:10 NIV)