Last Sunday night, our church had our annual ice cream social. While those with the gift of service were downstairs setting things up, about 250 of us were upstairs singing. I think singing is one of the things that makes Christianity such an oddity in our culture. Where else, beside karaoke bars and birthday parties, do people sing? Anyway, while we were all making a joyful noise, I spotted a couple a few rows behind me. Like everyone else here, they are new to me and I to them. Our history together as preacher and congregation is barely eight weeks old. But already, I am learning the stories we all bring with us to Sunday church. This particular couple has a daughter who is struggling with a rare neurological disorder. They are scheduled to travel soon to New York for surgery which they hope and pray God will use to heal her.
So, I glance around and see them sitting there, this husband, this wife, these parents of a sick, sick child. And they are singing. They serve, too. He teaches regularly, she is deeply involved in our inner city ministry. I just stared at them for a moment, awed by their courage, inspired by their faith. And I wondered, how do they do it? How does anyone who suffers keep faith?
Hebrews 2:9 – 10, I think, begins to answer that question.
But we do see Jesus, who was made lower than the angels for a little while, now crowned with glory and honor because he suffered death, so that by the grace of God he might taste death for everyone. In bringing many sons and daughters to glory, it was fitting that God, for whom and through whom everything exists, should make the pioneer of their salvation perfect through what he suffered.
There’s an important word in vs. 10. The American Standard Version translates it as author. The King James uses the word, captain. The New International Version and The Message chose the word pioneer. Jesus became like us in suffering so that he could lead us on a journey to God’s glory.
Along with our tendency to burst into song, this idea of a God who comes to us through suffering is one of the unique features of the Christian faith. All other faith systems depict a god who is out there — distant — we have to find our way to him. Christian faith says God came to us. And he didn’t just come down and point the way — he entered into our way of living to show us the way. Jesus isn’t a travel agent handing out brochures to paradise; he’s a tour guide, going with us on the journey.
Spurgeon once preached on this passage. “Disease, sickness of body, poverty, need, friendlessness, hopelessness, desertion — he knows all of these. You cannot cast human suffering into any shape that is new to Christ. The whole path of sorrow has his blood-bedabbled footsteps all along, for the Man of Sorrows has been there.”
Even so, this isn’t the feature of Christ’s ministry that we like talk about. We want to learn from his teaching, benefit from his power, rejoice in his victory, celebrate his coronation, bask in his friendship and experience his resurrection. But Jesus never ordained a weekly ritual of resurrection. He commanded baptism — a re-enactment of his death, burial and rising from the dead — but that’s a once-in-a-lifetime act of obedience. He did, however, command that we share in the communion as a recurring way to remember his suffering.
Which is why, I think, people like the couple I saw at the singing last Sunday night can sing. And serve. And put one foot in front of the other. They and their daughter are being led through suffering by Jesus. He is the Author, leading them through their story. He is their Captain, leading them in battle. Jesus is the Pioneer, leading them through places he has already been with the assurance that he will bring them to glory.