“And not only that, but we also boast in our afflictions, because we know that affliction produces endurance…” (Rom. 5:3, CSB)
Introduction
One of the frightening aspects of affliction is the grim and needling thought that our affliction may never end; that, contrary to our wishes in the moment, there may not be any immanent relief from the weight of grief, pain, sorrow, or anguish pressing upon us every waking hour. In such times, the mind easily runs wild, imagining countless scenarios in which our suffering has been allowed to continue unchecked and has, like a weed, choked every last drop of light and life and joy.
We imagine ourselves several years down the road, still harassed by the same persistent ache. We picture ourselves growing weaker and weaker under the burden, until at last it crushes us completely. Every thought of the future is coloured with the pain of the present, and the effect is that we actually do begin to grow weary and fainthearted. If such thoughts are allowed to persist (and I must emphasize “allowed”), they can break us entirely.
To entertain thoughts of this nature, however, is not only to dance with despair, it is also to lose our hold upon the promises of God. It is to abandon our only tether to what is ultimate, good, beautiful, and true and fling ourselves into the suffocating darkness of our blind, faithless hearts. If we are to keep ourselves, then, it must be by binding ourselves as tightly as possible to the words of God. Our flesh and our hearts will often fail, but He is the strength of our hearts and our portion forever (Ps. 73:26).
Brightening the Eye of Faith
This being the case, consider that wonderful word “endurance” in the above verse. It is wonderful precisely because of its connection to the foregoing “afflictions.” There is a relationship between these two realities—a causal relationship—and seeing it provides a deep well of hope in the midst of suffering.
Paul states the relationship this way: “affliction produces endurance,” and each word is precious. Affliction, he says, works endurance, results in endurance, and is the means by which endurance is gained. Without affliction, endurance could not be produced, just as a tree cannot deepen its root without storms. Affliction, in other words, is necessary for the acquiring of strength. As Rutherford wisely put it, “Faith is the better for the free air and the sharp winter-storm in its face. Grace withereth without adversity.”1
“Knowing” this, Paul says, is the key to being able to rejoice in our afflictions (v. 3), since by this knowledge we understand that our affliction is not arbitrary, impersonal, or futile: affliction is working in us a strength of character, fortitude, and resilience that would not otherwise be present. Our afflictions, therefore, in whatever form they may take, are productive rather than vain; fruitful rather than fallow. They are God’s servants, apportioned in tender, fatherly wisdom, not for the purpose of breaking us down, but rather for building us up. And when they are through—when endurance has had its “full effect” (Js. 1:4)—we will, by the grace of God, be “perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.”
Conclusion
Take courage, then, dear saint, and do not let the light of faith grow dim. Incline the tossing of your heart to the firm foundation of the word of God and force your soul to submit itself there to His wisdom. Remember that through the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ your affliction is not lacking in purpose; rather, it is productive, working in you the kind of character and maturity that will soon give rise to hope (v. 4).
Moreover, because these things are true, you may take comfort also in the fact that your affliction will not crush you—it will not grind your soul to dust, as you fear it will if it continues. God, by His grace, will uphold you, and though you may not be able to endure in your present state, you won’t be the same person you are now once He is through. He gives grace for each day.
Remember the old hymn, “The flames shall not hurt thee; I only design thy dross to consume and thy gold to refine.”
Plant yourself here, reader, and hope in God.
Samuel Rutherford, The Letters of Samuel Rutherford, Banner of Truth Trust, 69).
Was re-reading a piece from JC Ryle's 'Thoughts for Young Men' just yesterday, which fits in perfectly with the excellent exhortation above, brother:
"Last, but not least, if we know anything of growth in grace and desire to know more, let us not be surprised if we have to go through much trial and affliction in this world. I firmly believe it is the experience of nearly all the most eminent saints. Like their blessed Master, they have been men of sorrows, acquainted with grief, and perfected through sufferings (Isa. 53:3; Heb. 2:10). It is a striking saying of our Lord, "Every branch in Me that bears fruit [my Father] purges it, that it may bring forth more fruit" (John 15:2).
It is a melancholy fact, that constant temporal prosperity, as a general rule, is injurious to a believer’s soul. We cannot stand it. Sicknesses and losses and crosses and anxieties and disappointments seem absolutely needful to keep us humble, watchful and spiritual–minded. They are as needful as the pruning knife to the vine and the refiner’s furnace to the gold. They are not pleasant to flesh and blood. We do not like them and often do not see their meaning. "No chastening for the present seems to be joyous, but grievous: nevertheless afterward it yields the peaceable fruit of righteousness" (Heb. 12:11). We shall find that all worked for our good when we reach heaven.
Let these thoughts abide in our minds, if we love growth in grace. When days of darkness come upon us, let us not count it a strange thing. Rather let us remember that lessons are learned on such days, which would never have been learned in sunshine. Let us say to ourselves, "This also is for my profit, that I may be a partaker of God’s holiness. It is sent in love. I am in God’s best school. Correction is instruction. This is meant to make me grow."