Dressage and Diety

Contentment is such a fragile human condition. Perhaps because it's not one that we experience naturally, not something that in our fallen state is easily embraced. It's different than happiness, than excitement or pleasure. It's something that God specifically commanded and expects of us as believers. It's something that molds us more into the image of Christ. And sometimes, it's something that is the next best thing to impossible to acheive. What is more frustrating than an inability to achieve something of importance? You know when the thing that you're reaching for seems intentionally placed right outside of your reach, just close enough to taunt you but too far for your fingertips to do more than impotently brush against it? Promotions, relationships, happiness, dreams, cookies...all of these things can seem impossible for us to attain, which is incredibly frustrating. But worse than that is the achievement of a goal, only to have it slip once again through your fingers. Grasping the prize only to lose your grip and forfeit the reward. For me, contentment has been a bit of a slippery booger lately. Over the past several months I've struggled through some deep, dark valleys of shadow, and peaked over the summit of some beautiful mountaintops with my Jesus. I've gained and lost and been given such incredible mercy and peace and JOY in the moment. I've seen the best and worst that I am capable of as a person. And through it all, I have crossed to and fro over the line of being content and submitted to God and his working in my life. After my last post, God miraculously gave me freedom from the bitterness and anger that was ruling and destroying my life. It was one of the most incredibly beautiful experiences, and I have never felt such a direct answer to the cry of my heart. Over the past few weeks, I've experienced the presence of God in such sweet, quiet ways. There is such beauty in the mundane when you're in the center of God's will, living a life that you're certain he gave just to you. When I drive my morning route, reveling in the purity of a fog-encased countryside or the power of a horse in full, free motion, when I see the power of nature in a lightening storm or the quiet beauty of a herd of deer grazing at twilight, I feel an almost painful happiness and contentment with life. But it seems that on the heels of the strength comes the weakness. Directly after the summit experience, you plunge off a cliff and the height of the summit makes the valley seem deeper. I'm honestly not sure how much of that is Satan attacking a threat, and how much is God testing a strong follower. Because he's clear that he will bring trials to test and strengthen the faith of the faithful, just as we clearly know that Satan is a master tempter and brings trials to tempt those who threaten his agenda. Whatever the purpose of the struggle, the outcomes are the same. Either you remain strong and bring glory to God and a strengthening of your faith, or you become weak and play into Satan's hand and have to rebuild your faith. I feel a tug of discontent, of wanting more, wanting different, wanting to DO to BE to HAVE something new. I feel the push to rush God's timing, to make things in my life move faster than he is allowing. I feel almost a panic to regain control of my life and put myself back on the throne. Yesterday, I rode a dressage horse. Now, for those of you who are not horse people, dressage is very different than most disciplines. It is very controlled, and is based on an intense connection between a 1200 lb horse and a fragile human. Your cues from yours aids (hands, legs, seat, etc) should be minimal and nearly invisible. Calf pressure instead of kicking, fingertip movement instead of pulling on the reins, subtle shifting in the saddle. When it works it is the most beautiful testament of strength under control, of humility on a huge scale, as this powerful animal brings its will into a lovely submission to the will of the rider. When it goes bad, it is monumentally frustrating for both. Yesterday was not lovely. She was resistant, I was frustrated, and neither of us was willing to meet halfway. I was not in control, and she was not free to submit. We were both pushing and pulling, straining against the strictures of the rules and there was NO communication going on. If only she had yeilded her control for a moment, given me her head, and gotten on the bit, we would have been able to fix the problem and build the communication. But she was not in a yeilding mood. So both of us ended up mad, exhausted from fighting, and wanting to do anything but spend more time together. So often I find myself the stiff, unyeilding dressage horse to God's patient rider. He's gently working me toward this beautiful partnership, this unit of cooperation that makes observers marvel at the seemingly invisible connection between the two teammates. He's pressing me forward gently, tugging me side to side, trying to gain my submission so that I can respond properly to his cues. But I continue on awkwardly, stubbornly holding my head high in the air, refusing to yeild to the subtle pressure and causing myself and my God untold heartache. I careen recklessly around the arena, running into things, knocking things over, wreaking havoc and getting nowhere. If only I could just stop resisting, soften my stance and bring my head down so that I could feel his gentle pressure toward the goal of his perfect plan. How frustrating such a partner must be to God. I'm sure he sometimes wishes he could "go western" on me and apply the spurs and whip, breaking my spirit to his spirit. But instead, he gently works the bit and continues to press me softly, until, spirit intact, I finally bow my will to his and bring myself into submission. How much more rewarding is a willing, submissive servant than a resentful, unyeilded slave. So what will it be? Servant or Slave? Beautiful submission or ugly resentment? It's my choice, because God does not force submission.

Am Go Damhsa

"For everything there is a season, and a time every after under heaven..." Ecclesiastes is not a "feel good" book. You don't finish Solomon's Magnum Opus and go, "wow, that dude really had a good life." In fact, it's a terribly depressing and unhappy book, filled mostly with "vanity, vanity, all is vanity." But this one section, eight verses in chapter three, right in the middle of all that vanity, is this beautiful, poetic essay on life. Solomon's wisdom was the greatest in the earth, ever, before the birth of Christ. And when he went to describe this beautiful, thrilling roller-coaster ride God places us on, he described it like this:

"A time to be born, and a time to die; A time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted; a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; A time to weep, and a time to laugh; A time to mourn, and a time to dance; A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; A time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; A time to seek, and a time to lose; A time to keep, and a time to cast away; A time to tear, and a time to sew; A time to keep silence, and a time to speak; A time for love, and a time for hate; A time for war and a time for peace."

Wait...God has a time for killing? For casting away? For tearing? For HATE? How is this possible? We understand the God who has a time for dying, because it's a normal part of this life. We even understand how God could have a time for breaking down, weeping, mourning, and war. Of course, we expect that there would be times for birth, healing, building up, laughing, embracing, repair, love, and peace. And probably everyone except those few Baptists out there understand how God has a time to dance! But I, for one, had a hard time wrapping my mind around the fact that not only does God understand that we will struggle with hatred, breaking down, casting away, but that he expects, even ordains, times for those exact things. It's a normal progression of the dance we call life. How reassuring for someone in the time of hatred, of anger and fear, pain, mourning, weeping. To know that God sees, understands the pain, and is just waiting for it to be time to turn on the heavenly music and break into dancing the dance of joy! Because the format of these verses is designed to imply the inevitability of the cycle of life. It doesn't say, "sometimes you get to dance after you mourn, sometimes you laugh after you weep, sometimes you love after you've hated, but you just gotta work a little harder, be a little better, stronger, faster, and you might get there." No! It says, very simply, that there is already a time for all these things. If you're weeping, it's not yet time to laugh. If you're still mourning, your time to dance has not arrived. And if you still have hate, it's not yet time to love again. It's hard, God certainly knows it's hard, waiting for the time. But it is key.

Am Go Damhsa means "Time To Dance" in Gaelic, the ancient language of my ancestors. I know that, in God's timing, my am go damhsa will come. In God's time, the mourning will be over, the weeping will be done, the hate will be gone, and the music will start for the dance. But until then, there is nothing I can do to make it go faster. I can't force the music to play, and it's difficult to truly dance without music. Patience is as important to the dance as enthusiasm and joy in the movements. Live in the moment, even if the moment you happen to be living in is filled with the less pleasant aspects of life. They are still a part of this life, given us by our God, designed to be lived to the fullest. Experience the present and anticipate the dance!

Forgiveness?

"Forgiveness, like love, is a choice not an emotion." From everything I've read in scripture, every verse on love, every reference to trespasses and hurts, this statement is true. Love is a choice, and so is forgiveness. You can choose to forgive, choose to love past hurts and fear and pain and heartbreak. But what about those of us in the trenches of Christian life, just trying to be like Jesus day by day, shine the light and glorify the Savior? What about the ones who have been broken and despite crying out for healing, now have open, festering wounds that ache with bitterness? What about them? What about us? Having been wounded, having been hurt and having experienced all the anger, pain, bitterness, rage, blame, shame, fear, and various other unpleasant and ungodly emotions, this is a huge struggle for me right now. Because time and time again, I have bent my will into submission to the Savior's example, his command, and said "I CHOOSE to forgive you." I have even felt forgiveness, a time or two, and thought, "finally, finally, I'm free" and would revel in that freedom for a few days, even a couple weeks. Then "the pain came back again, like a bitter friend" and I wasn't able to keep myself from blaming. I experience again the deep betrayal and pain, and find myself bitter and separated from God again. I cry out, and hear nothing. Ask, beg, plead for strength, power to forgive and let go, and find none. I'm tired of this cycle, and can't find the solution. I've thought, "maybe if I just tell him I forgive him, it'll make it so," but it seems so dishonest. My will can't override my emotions, and heaven is silent. So I will ask, seek, knock, and maybe eventually, an answer will come from the throne.

Voices

I haven't posted in months...since August of last year. It's hard for me to believe that it's been that long. After a couple of months on a mountaintop, I went through a valley of darkness. I lost my focus over the past few months and am just now getting my sight fixed back completely on the source of my strength, the end goal of this life: Christ and my transformation into his Bride. The Lover of my soul never stopped loving me - I backed away from the relationship and turned my gaze to the frail, transient forgeries that this earthly life provides. But he never stops pursuing those who have pledged themselves to him. He hounded me, faithfully drawing me gently but persistently to himself, and consumed me again with the fire of his love.

Tonight, on the way home from a night out at the movies with friends, I heard the Casting Crowns song, "Voice of Truth." Such a powerful song. Like all of Casting Crowns' work, "Voice of Truth" is beautifully crafted musically and theologically deep lyrically. In the chorus, the group sings,

"The Voice of Truth tells me a different story / The Voice of Truth says
'Do not be afraid' / The Voice of Truth says 'This is for My glory" / Of all the
voices calling out to me / I will choose to listen and believe / The Voice of
Truth."

What a beautiful picture of surrender. I have been there, watching the waves threatening to drown me, watching the giant grow larger and larger as he walks menacingly toward my frail form. I've felt that desperation, that "Lord, save me" cry of absolute anguish. Have you ever truly gotten to the point where you feel like your very soul is being torn asunder and you're going under for the last time? That's the point where you can reach up and grasp the hand of the Savior, just like Peter did in the Sea of Galilee during the storm, and be lifted gently above the desperation. Notice, Peter was not taken out of the Sea. He was merely supported above it. He still had to endure the tossing of the waves, the spray in his face, the chill of fear and the trial of his faith. God doesn't remove us from suffering. He tests us to the limit of our faith and is either pleased with our endurance or sees clearly the areas we're still weak in. But he's always there for the support. Always.
In the midst of that chaos, that terror, at the end of the rope, Peter had to hear the voice of Christ in order to know where to reach out for salvation. He had to sort out the noises around him. Roaring waves, howling wind, shouts from his friends in the boat, the frantic beating of his own heart rushing in his ears. All of that battled for his attention, striving to push the still, small voice of the Nazarene from his ears and his heart. Christ had already told him he'd be safe if he only kept his eyes on Jesus. He'd failed once. Yet the Master reached out a hand, and called again. That Voice of Truth reached Peter's feeble ears and somehow touched his heart. He chose to listen to the Voice of Truth rather than those others vying for attention.
So what are the other voices we fight against? Peter fought friends, the elements, and his own fear to hear the Voice. We fight similar battles in the spiritual and physical realms today. The obvious voices of lies are from the culture. They're pervasive, but relatively easy to discern, with a minimum of effort. Sure, they're everywhere, but when the culture says clearly, "sex before marriage is fine, try it out and live together for a while, you don't want to get stuck in a passionless marriage so make sure it all 'works' before then," we can clearly refute that with any number of scriptures from the Levitical laws to the instructions in the New Testament from Christ himself, Peter, Paul, and many others. There are more subtle voices, those that whisper in a tone so similar to that of the Master that we have to listen carefully. Those are the whispers that say "we're under Grace, not Law. This is legalism. God is a God of love. We're 'married in our hearts,' It's not really 'sex.'" Subtle attacks of Satan.
Fear is still a huge issue. It's a monumental fight, particularly when you're faced with a painful situation, a hurt that seems like it will never heal. Especially when it seems like God not only allowed the hurt, but oschestrated it. When your anger is directed, justly it seems, at the Almighty. Fear of the pain. Fear of rejection. Fear of loneliness. Fear of failure. Fear that perhaps God isn't who you think he is. Fear that you'll never be whole. Fear of men. But remember? The Voice of Truth said that he has "not given you a spirit of fear, but a Spirit of power, and of love, and a sound mind." God is not a god of fear. Fear is the opposite of love, because "Perfect love drives out fear." God has clearly promised that "All things work together for the good of those who love him, who are called according to his purpose." So what have we to fear, really? Pain, rejection, loneliness, failure, and brokenness are all a part of life that is inescapeable because we live in the fallen, sinful "Death World." Accept it and cling to the promise that all of these things are ultimately turned to the glory of God and the good of those who accept their calling to his purpose.
See friends, that's the catch. All things do NOT work to the good of ALL PEOPLE. That promise is only for those who A) Love God, and B), are called according to his purpose. We're all called. All humanity is called and wooed by the Creator. But not all will accept the call. Not all who accept the gift of salvation accept the call to live their lives according to God's purpose, to further his glory no matter the personal cost. For those who reject that call, they may have their "ticket punched," but they are missing the glory of God in the present world, and will one day fall on their faces before the Mercy Seat and bitterly mourn for the lost opportunities, the wasted life. The "no tears" portion of eternity doesn't start until after the Mercy Seat for a reason. There WILL be bitter weeping before Christ at that day, and he will mourn that loss with us.
I feel like this is a bit rambling, and disjointed. I hope it got the message across that I intended. The message is this: The Voice of Truth speaks quietly and persistently, and if you listen you'll be able to distinguish it from the voices of fear, self, culture, and Satan. Forget the waves, forget the friends, forget the storm and flesh. Reach up, grab the offered hand, and cling to it like a child in a crowd clinging to the hand of her Father. It's the lifeline, the safety at the end of the Voice.

Hurt and Healing Part 4

It seems from the Psalms that questioning God's purpose for our pain is okay, as long as the process does not involve questioning God's ultimate sovereignty in our lives. God freed me recently from the idea that I had to always "be okay." People asked me hourly in those first three weeks or so after my most recent heartbreak, "how are you?" My impulse, "Good Christian" answer was always, "fine!" In reality, my heart was shattered, I was questioning everything, and it felt as though my world were imploding and I was helpless to do a single thing to stop it. About mid-way through the second week, God showed me that it is okay to NOT be okay.

The current trend in Christianity is to put on the mask of attitudinal happiness to cover the spirit of depression. We smile and nod in church despite the divorce, miscarriage, break-up, spousal abuse, depression, bitterness, family conflict, and self-mutilation we experience on a daily basis. We have this farce of Christianity in which no matter the reality, in our little "religious world," everything is happy, healthy, and under control. In contrast, the scriptural truth is that God gives us a "garment of praise instead of a faint spirit" (Isaiah 61:3). It is the choice of praise that changes our spirits from faint to fearless. The Father did not give us a spirit of fear, but of power, love, and self-control, a spirit of adoption as sons. This is what allows us to cry, Abba, Father (1 Tim 1:7, Rom 8:15). These masks of a good attitude do not change what lies beneath...the pain, anger, hurt, bitterness, rejection of the forgiveness of Christ (for how can we accept forgiveness if we do not forgive?) that molds our hearts into hard shells of what God meant for us to be. He wanted us to be broken, not brittle. He intended us to be transparent with one another, not guarded and false to our fellow believers.

One thing He has taught me...drop the mask. Stop acting as though all is fine when you're going through a trial, or testing of your faith. Yes, we are to count it all joy when we fall into diverse temptations (James 1). But JOY and HAPPINESS are two very different animals. Joy is the result of trusting entirely on Christ's sovereignty and goodness in your life, no matter your emotional state, because ultimately He is all that is worth relying upon anyway. Happiness IS an emotional state, just like anger, sadness, disappointment, hurt, fear. These emotions seem to be taboo to believers today, but I'm not sure where that came from. In the life of Christ, I see these emotions. He was angry with the money changers and the Pharisees. He was sad and disappointed when His disciples failed Him or people chose to reject Him. He was hurt and afraid when He begged the Father to let the cup of His sacrificial death pass from Him. Yet He was sinless. He suffered as we do...but sinned not.

There must be a way for us to be the emotional human creatures that God created us to be. There must be a purpose for that facet of our humanity. If Christ experienced all these things, shouldn't we? I say yes. So look at Christ's response to suffering. His reaction to emotion was not to ignore or refuse it. His reaction was to teach and learn through it. He demonstrated his disappointment to the disciples when they fell asleep on Him in order to show them a better way. He surrendered to the Father's will after His earnest pleas for another plan. He whole-heartedly, unashamedly wanted the Father's will on earth. He always submitted to the plan for His life. No matter the suffering. No matter the rejection, the inequality, the persecution, the lack, the hunger, the ridicule. He was always joyful in His life...and death. Yes, He agonized for the physical pain on the cross. But in His final breath, He committed His Spirit into the Father's hands...because He knew that the Father was worthy of the obedience. That the love was worthy of the sacrifice.

So feel. Stop faking happiness and feel the reality of what God is doing in your life at the moment. Take off the mask. If you're hurting...tell someone. If you feel like crying...cry. If you're angry...give that person over to God and forgive their trespass against you. If you're afraid, acknowledge and confess the fear...and then give it and your will to God. Constantly pray "not my will but Thine" just as Christ Himself did in the Garden of Gethsemane. Show the Father that no matter what He requires of you or how much GENUINE PAIN He puts you through, you know that His plan, His GLORY, is worth it. That you are surrendered to His will. Honesty in Pain...Surrender in Joy.

Hurt and Healing Part 3

We left our study with the question, "What is the Godly reaction to suffering?"

For the answer to this question, I turned to the Psalms. King David was a deeply emotional man, as evidenced in his Psalms. The songs written after he confessed his sin with Bathsheeba are beautifully crafted, starkly honest declarations of his depravity and God's grace. The Psalms are full of honest, broken-hearted, depressed, pain-laden crying out to God. Passages like Psalm 6:2-4, "Be merciful to me, LORD, for I am faint; O LORD, heal me, for my bones are in agony. My soul is in anguish. How long, O LORD, how long? Turn, O LORD, and deliver me; save me because of your unfailing love" and Psalm 55:4-8, 23, "My heart is in anguish within me; the terrors of death assail me. Fear and trembling have beset me; horror has overwhelmed me. I said, "Oh that I had the wings of a dove! I would fly away and stay in the desert. I would hurry to my place of shelter, far from the tempest and storm." But you, O God, will bring down the wicked into the pit of corruption; bloodthirsty and deceitful men will not live out half their days. But as for me, I trust in you" show deep emotional disturbance. This is not a "sunshine and puppy dogs" attitude toward the Christian life. This is gut-wrenching honesty. One of my favorites, Psalm 31:9-16, describes my personal experiences in the physical results of sheer anguish. "Be merciful to me, O LORD, for I am in distress; my eyes grow weak with sorrow, my soul and my body with grief. My life is consumed by anguish and my years by groaning; my strength fails because of my affliction, and my bones grow weak."

Is the author of these Psalms doing the modern Christian "chin up old fellow, it'll all work out and be fabulous in the end" routine? Is he putting on the "church mask" where all is peaches and cream, just fine? No fighting, no anger, no frustration, no hurt? No! He is crying out, as a child does to his Father, telling Him how painful this existence can be. He is being HONEST with the God who knows and sees. He is demonstrating the simple truth that an omniscient God already KNOWS what you feel, think, experience. Lying to Him is only lying to yourself. Unless you admit and acknowledge the pain, you cannot begin to understand its purpose. Please do not fool yourself. Because you are certainly not fooling your Creator.

I prayed about sharing this publicly. However, after looking at the Psalms and David's transparency, I cannot hide behind glass walls. So here are some bits of honesty with God. Please understand that none of this was written with anyone else in mind. They are just honest cries to God, as I journaled during the first few weeks of pain. I definitely suggest journaling prayers. It has been priceless for me to go back and read over my early writing, and to see how quickly God answered those prayers, revealing Himself quickly in those weeks. I am trusting that He is requiring me to expose myself for a reason, and pray that He uses my words to touch someone's broken heart.

"I wish I just knew what You were doing. I wish there was a road map right here in front of me letting me know where You were taking me next. But I know You don't work like that. So I'll keep doing what You've given me to do until You give me something else. I'm so tired, God. My heart feels torn up and bruised, my emotions confused. My mind knows it's gone, but my crazy heart randomly remembers things...I feel like a child...as if I could just run away and forget the heartache. But it doesn't work like that. It's not enough."

"I want the pain to ease, even a little...I'm afraid of depression, and I feel it snapping at my heels like a rabid wolf. I try to just shut off emotion to kill the pain, but then I can't feels you, and can't serve you. So I ache. And sometimes I scream inside...I need you to comfort my pain, to hold me in your arms like a child and stroke the hurt away. But I know you have a purpose, even in this...But I think I know that you won't take this pain away, not yet. You're teaching me something important, something vital. Please, Lord, speed my comprehension! The pain is vicious."

"Rejoice always, even when life shoots you in the chest in the name of ministry? Even when everything crumbles? Ok. I will choose to rejoice, because any other option is unthinkable. You are all I have to hold onto. Maybe that's the reason for this. Maybe understanding that you are sufficient. Father, I begged you not to test me. But now that you choose to, I pray for the strength to remain true. I love you, Lord. Let that be enough."

"The cost of growing closer to you is very dear. You are worth so much more, but my weak humanity cries out at the pain of the sacrifice. Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief."

"You have given me new life, Lord. You have given me a bright morning for the pain of night. You give me a garment of praise for a spirit of heaviness. You have saved all my tears and now they sit sparkling in a jar, a testament to your love and overwhelming grace. How great are you and greatly to be praised!"

"Will you really ask me to put my heart on the line again? Lord, the very thought makes me want to throw up. I can say it's too painful...I've been hurt enough...I just want to be safe. But then I look at your example. You reach out, millions of times a day and over and over again, get rejected. You repeatedly are betrayed by those you should be worship

ed by. Yet you never choose to hide. You never say, "it's too much pain."

"I love you, Lord. I praise you for the storm, not simply in the storm. You are my hiding place, and my heart is healed."

Well I believe that's enough honesty. I'll continue the study of Scripture later. For now, I need rest.

Hurt and Healing Part 2

We have established certain truths. God is good. He is love. He is unchanging. He is omniscient and omnipotent. Those things in mind, let's dive deeper into this vital issue of hurt and healing in the life of a Christian.

To clarify, these principles will only fully apply to someone who has truly given Christ Lordship of their life and who has the Holy Spirit indwelling them. If that does not describe you, then please, please message me and I would be happy to have a discussion with you about what the Bible says about personal salvation.

So what does Scripture say about suffering as a believer? Are we promised lives of health, wealth, and happiness? Are we supposed to suffer in silence or is it appropriate to question God's purposes? Does being "content" mean just taking whatever is handed to us without complaint? Does God care about our feelings or just our reactions? What is the purpose of suffering, pain, hurt, brokenness, trials, etc.?

These are all questions I have struggled with, stewed over, contemplated this past month. So what are the Biblical answers? It is my desire to find answers in Scripture, not from others. I am tired of people's opinions, since the only One who matters is Christ. So everything that I offer I hope will be backed by Scripture.

So do believers suffer? According to what I see throughout Scripture, there can be no question about whether we're supposed to suffer. We are supposed to "share in [Christ's] sufferings" (Romans 8:17), "have trouble" (John 16:33), and "delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties" (2 Corinthians 12:10). We are also supposed to not be "surprised at the painful trial you are suffering, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice that you participate in the sufferings of Christ, so that you may be overjoyed when His glory is revealed" (1 Peter 4:12-13). We are obviously supposed to share in the sufferings of Christ.

For John, this meant being boiled alive in oil, then sent to solitary life on the Isle of Patmos, where God revealed the book of Revelation to him. For Peter, this meant being arrested repeatedly, imprisoned and released supernaturally, and finally crucified upside down by Rome. For Paul, it meant living with a "thorn in the flesh" (2 Corinthians 12:7-10), being arrested multiple times, shipwrecked and snakebit, imprisoned for an extended period of time in a "house arrest" situation, and ultimately beheaded in Rome at the order of Nero. Obviously, trials and pain were an everyday part of the early believer's life. Separation from family and friends at the very least. Economic ruin, social outcast, or even loss of life were just as common. During the reign of Emperor Nero, the "Followers of the Way" were blamed for the burning of Rome, and were crucified, burned alive, and fed to lions daily. Early believers called themselves "Followers of the Way" and were only called Christians in the New Testament by their enemies, except in 1 Peter. They were set apart to follow literally in the footsteps of Christ (the Way, Truth, and Life) including death.

Ok, so suffering is par for the course for believers. "I can accept that," you say, "but how am I supposed to react to it? Am I allowed to question God?" Please stay tuned for Part 3 - The reaction to the inevitable suffering.