Persevere Under Trial

"Blessed is the man who perseveres under trial, because after he has stood the test, he will receive the crown of life God promised to those who love Him." James 1:12

 Wow, what a verse!  This should encourage anyone going through a difficult time and should admonish them to keep on keeping on.  My question while reading this verse is what does "stand the test" mean?  If there's as big a reward as the crown of life, then we really should know, right?

Well, two pictures come to mind.  The first is a horse in a thunder storm, tied to a stake in the middle of the prairie.  A blanket has been thrown over his back in a pitiful, yet "best intentions" attempt at keeping him warm.  Its knees are locked, head down, and ears back; fighting against the wind.  He isn't getting blown away, and will survive the storm, albeit a little worse for wear.  It's this concept that I will assign the term "withstanding."

The second picture is a scene from the Fellowship of the Ring, Bordamir is fighting against the oorks in an attempt to keep two hobbits safe.  Even though several arrows have pierced his armor and he's mortally wounded, he fights the enemy almost until his last breath.  This is the perfect picture of perseverance.

So, which is this verse referring to, or does it mean both?  At first glance, I would say probably both.  Some trials I've personally experienced have called for keeping up the good work, even though I would have rathered going home, curling myself up on my bed under my teddy bear blanket that my grandma gave me for Christmas a few years ago and cry myself to sleep, then staying in bed until the problem blew over, even if it took weeks.  An example I'm sure most of you could resonate with is a difficult school project that required perseverance.  However, the best example I can come up with is my... err... "friendship" (for lack of a better word) with a girl I worked with a couple years ago named Sadie. 

Sadie and I worked together one night a week for an entire school year.  That's 120 hours we spent together as "team" mates.  It's not that Sadie is bad-- or that she's a horrible worker-- it's just that she hated my guts.  To this day, I cannot fathom why she didn't like me.  She would micromanage me, or do my work for me (not because I couldn't or wouldn't do it, but just because she could), ridicule me for asking legitimate questions, and yell at me in front of other co-workers for the smallest things, like leaving the sanitizer bucket in a place she didn't like or having the gall to finish something our manager had told me to do before doing something she demanded I do (occasionally, something that the manger had told her to do and she didn't want to do).  She would tolerate no anger from me toward her unfairness and would gossip about me behind my back.  Although she was no superior of mine, she made work a drudgery.  I got to the point that I hated working and would often go play out my frustration on the piano after work, biting back tears.

Anyway, one thing God had asked me to do while I worked with her is to show her His love.  I think that's one of the hardest things He has asked me to do.  How difficult it was to treat her respectfully, politely, treat her as though there was nothing wrong!  How painful to suppress the sarcasm in my responses to her ridicule, and say nothing at all rather than a hurtful comment.  How hard to greet her with a genuine smile every time I saw her-- on and off the clock!  How infuriating to avert my eyes as she yelled at me so she couldn't see fury flash in my eyes!  How humbling to defend Sadie to other co-workers the few times that she had been justified (albeit overreacting) in calling me out on something when they came with empathy, supporting my cause!

What a trial it was.  But I persevered.  Later, when she and I were reconciled, she apologized for her cruelty and admitted that she herself didn't understand why she had been so mean.  Nonetheless, I learned much about love in adversity and even about pity and compassion.  For strangely enough, I did come to look at her with agape and mercy.  This is perseverance under trial-- the perseverance that teaches you much and gives you wisdom and draws you closer to God.

"Withstanding," on the other hand, is simply coming to the end of your rope and typing a knot with which to hold on, like watching a relative die.  We can't do anything about it, merely holding on and doing the best you can under the circumstances.  This is a good (and necessary) reaction to testing, but is more pluckiness and tenacity than perseverance; it's an attitude of "I will not give up!"  (Truth be told, perseverance and withstanding are fraternal twins and in trials you need both.)

According to this verse, we do this to receive an immortal crown.  So, going back to my original question, what is this really referring to?  After thinking, I'd have to say perseverance wins.  You see, there's the second half of the verse to reckon with.  It reads: "because when he has stood the test, he will receive the crown of life God promised to those who love Him."  Think back to the two descriptions at the beginning of the post; the ones about a horse and Baldimir.  I would say perseverance deserves a crown more than withstanding.  Perseverance requires more work and you end up gaining more from it.  Besides, with persevering, there's the constant temptation to simply batten down the hatch and ride out the storm.  Those who are proven true-- who persevere to the end-- will receive the crown of life.  Those who simply stand firm will probably get an extra scoop of ice cream at the Marriage Supper of the Lamb.  Personally, out of the two, I'd prefer that crown, even if that means I deal with more pain on this side of heaven.

Next time you're under trial, remember this.  Ask yourself if this is a test to merely endure or if you can do more with the situation than that.  Remember what Jim Elliot said: "Live to the hilt every situation you believer to be the will of God."

Camp Experiences, part 1: Hell

I stood in the modified cafeteria, staring at the long line of blindfolded ninth graders in front of me.  The sight was almost overwhelming, and most certainly made me at a loss for words.  I couldn't believe that all of these kids had made the wrong choice.  I was astonished to see several of the "good kids" in that line.  You know, the sweethearts, the quiet thinkers that you were always wondering what they're thinking, the responsible ones, the ones that were so much fun to be around just 'cause they had that special pizazz.  As I watched, the long line got shorter and shorter as the campers approached the doorway.  Technically, it led to the tornado cellar, but with a fog lamp and a red light (as the only source of light), it could easily pass for a eerie hell, probably the most realistic hell on earth any of the kids could experience.  One by one, the campers' blinders were removed just in time for them to see the steps they were heading down, and for a counselor to gruffly tell them "GO!"  As I watched their faces, they were numb, scared, confused, and sorry that they hadn't chosen a better route.  I was astonished that most of the fifty campers had chosen this fate. 

My mind went back to the activity they had started about an hour before.  At the beginning of the night, the kids were told that they were going to do a special activity, but that they had to be blindfolded to do it.  So, glasses removed and bandannas applied, they were taken to the field and led around to eight different stopping points, symbolizing different sins.  One point was "lying", another "lust", a third "disobeying parents".  If a camper had committed that sin (which they all had), they were to pick up a rock from that station, and put it in a knapsack they had been given when they had been blindfolded.  And when I say rock, I mean small bolder, about the size of bricks or larger.  Then, with all the campers properly burdened with their sins, all were taken back into the gym.  There, six or seven people were released among them, all with a different message to woo the campers to follow them, most promising to take away their burdens and blindfolds.  One catch, though: only one had the authority to remove said obstructions.  All the others simply led the campers to the small man-made hell-on-earth. 

The five or six who had chosen The One were sitting on the floor a little ways from the door that led to the makeshift hell, bandannas and burdens removed, as they had been promised would happen.  They couldn't pull any of their friends out of the line-- they hadn't been given the authority to do that.  The looks on their faces?  Well, I could tell their feelings were similar to mine: astonishment, almost overwhelmed at the long lines.  But they were also feeling something I couldn't: immense relief that they had chosen the right voice.  They were the only ones who were truly clued in, the only ones who would not be bewildered at the outcome of the activity.  Everyone else was in for the surprise of their lives.

After the last of the long line went through the door, the kids that chose The One did something I wasn't expecting.  Armed with unlit candles, they also walked into hell.  A co-worker of mine was standing next to me as the last one disappeared through the entry.  "You wanna go down?"  She asked me.  Of course I did!  I was extremely curious to see what would happen next, so the two of us descended.  It was worse down there than I had expected.  The cellar was musty usually, but adding VERY thick fog to the mix (like, so thick you couldn't wave your hand in front of your face and have any relief or even see the fog move; so thick that you could only see the outline of the person standing right next to you)... let's just say that even I, with normal, healthy lungs, was having some trouble breathing.  After noting the air quality (or lack thereof), I started paying attention to the vague forms around the room.  The cellar was small anyway, but adding 50 people made the room even smaller.  When a camper dared to whisper, the leader would yell, "Hey!  No whispering!  Be QUIET over there!"  Occasionally, a camper dropped his or her knapsack, and the leader would yell, "PICK them UP!"  No mercy given.  No excuses tolerated.  No exemptions allowed.  To be honest, he reminded me of a drill sergeant in the army.   

As if that wasn't bad enough, it got worse.  The One who had played Jesus stood at the top of the stairs and mournfully said  that he tried to get them to follow him, but they were too worried about other things; that he called to them, but they refused to choose him.  That he was the way, but they hadn't accepted him.  That although they had been good kids, gone to church and Sunday School and church camp, that he didn't know them.  With that, he slammed the door closed.  The red light, as creepy as it had been, was also turned off.  We were left in utter darkness.

I wasn't sure it could get worse for these kids, but then it did.  After the door was slammed, the counselor playing satan started talking to the campers.  In a triumphant voice, he declared that he had all of them and they couldn't escape.  That even after they left camp, they would be his.  "After all," he flaunted, "I am in your government, I am in your schools, I am in your homes... you can't even turn on the TV without seeing something I want you to see!  It doesn't matter how 'churchy' you are at camp, it doesn't matter that you try to be a 'good kid'.  You are FAKES, you are MINE and there's NOTHING you can do about it!!  Whatever I want you do to, that's what you do!" He chuckled cruelly.  "Oh, and then there's adultery.  That's all over the place!  You can't drive down the road without seeing a billboard that makes you think that way.  YOU'RE IN MY TRAP! You can't get out!  Even at this camp, you've been more concerned about having a campfire date," he spat, "than listening to the counselor tell you about God!  And even if you 'make a decision' this week, IT DOESN'T MATTER! I guarantee you, you will be mine again the Monday after you get home.  And the thing is, THIS ISN'T EVEN HELL!!! This is the reality YOU have created for yourselves.  The REAL hell is much worse than this.  YOU ARE MINE!!!" 

During this speech, my tender heart rung in anguish, and many campers in the cellar were weeping.  How true it was!  Satan is everywhere-- we cannot escape him.  Even at church, we struggle with having a secular mentality, believing that life can be compartmentalized to the point that we separate our relationship with God from everything else, honestly believing that there isn't any (and is impossible to have) any connection between them!  The more he spoke, the more I backed into a corner, subconsciously trying to escape the auditory horror before me.  He was right.  Toiling here on earth is meaningless.

As I was on the brink of tears, I saw some movement and a flicker of light.  Those who had chosen Christ had gathered together towards the front of the room.  One by one, they lit the candles.  The first wick caught, and it did my soul good to see real, natural light.  "I chose Christ."  She calmly and firmly stated. 

"It doesn't matter!" Satan declared.  "You're just playing the game.  You'll be mine again at the end of camp." 

Another candle started to blaze.  "I chose Christ" the second one proclaimed. 

"It doesn't matter.  You're still mine." 

A third.  "I chose Christ." 

"I don't care.  You'll give up all progress you've made before the end of summer."

A fourth.  "I chose Christ."

"The light is getting too much for me... but you're still mine."  My spirit lifted to know that he was weakening.

A fifth.  And a sixth.  "I chose Christ."

After each one, satan made some petty answer, but really it didn't seem to matter.  He was defeated.  Christ had his representatives in satan's own lair, and there was nothing that he could do about it.  Although he was allowed to have his time to rant, we all realized that his power was nothing in comparison to the power that the Christians had, on authority of Christ.

After the candles were lit, they walked over to another door, and calmly, quietly, led the rest of the campers out of hell.  Satan had no authority to speak to them as they left, much less stop them.  The whole crew of sobbing teenagers filed out of the room.

Those who had chosen Christ led them to the gym where the vespers band was playing a comforting and inviting tune.  On the one end of the gym, they had set up a cross.  After everyone had been seated, the leader came out and debriefed them, and then gave an invitation to accept Christ-- for real.  As a symbol of their surrender, they were to come up and deposit their bags of burdens at the foot of the cross.  When the band started to sing, I cried.  All of the campers, some of whom were still crying, rose and took their burdens and left them at the cross.