An Extraordinary Offer

From that time on, Jesus began to show his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem and undergo great suffering at the hands of the elders and chief priests and scribes, and be killed, and on the third day be raised. And Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him, saying, ‘God forbid it, Lord! This must never happen to you.’ But he turned and said to Peter, ‘Get behind me, Satan! You are a stumbling-block to me; for you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.’

Matthew 16:21-23

I spend a significant portion of my time wishing away misfortune. I say, “wishing” because, while I work to buy security and provision for myself and those that depend on me, my work does not and cannot guarantee their safety. And, while I’ve always prayed for my family’s health and happiness—both of which God has richly provided over the years—these gifts are transient. Despite my best efforts, misfortune still comes when I least expect it.

Most recently, it came when two members of my family became ill at the same time, and when one of them passed away just a few days later. 

My family was suddenly beset by all the things I had tried to wish away: suffering, anxiety, and grief. 

“And Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him, saying, ‘God forbid it, Lord! This must never happen to you.’” 

When Christ began to predict His own death, Peter pushed back. He had already had his fill of misfortune. His people had been subject to a foreign empire with a culture and religion antithetical to their own for his whole life and for several generations before. But somehow, he’d found his way to the inner circle of the Messiah, the Savior destined to change everything. He was on the cusp of a movement that would lead to a better and brighter future. Not only that, Peter and Jesus were close. He had no desire to think of his friend suffering, so he wished the misfortune away in the name of all that was desired and hoped for. 

Rather than being grateful for Peter’s concern, Jesus rebuked his attitude with the words, “you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.’” 

Peter couldn’t grasp the eternal significance of the tribulation that was to follow. 

That isn’t surprising. The mystery of the Cross is as confounding as it is glorious, even to those of us who have the benefit of hindsight. Even when approaching more minor tribulations, such as sickness or the death of a loved one, I myself hesitate to ascribe meaning, fearful that I will somehow minimize or disregard the depth of pain and heartbreak involved. 

And yet, I have found meaning in this season of grief that has recently surrounded my family, because it has also found us surrounded by love. 

Old and new friends, caring medical staff, clergy, and family have been here to offer comfort, relief, and much-needed practical support. Every day, we’ve received encouragement in person, over the phone, and online. Everywhere I’ve looked, I’ve seen examples of compassion and self-giving love. More than being exactly what was needed at a stressful time, these examples have reminded me of the kind of person I want to be.

I began to realize that these are the times that call us to fulfill our true roles as loving people, which means so much more than warding off inevitable suffering. It means doing the hardest work of relationships: sitting with family through an illness we can’t control, holding one another through the tears—not offering platitudes—but simply being present. 

We are creatures destined for relationships. This truth is inscribed in our DNA as indelibly as the words, "It is not good that the man should be alone" (Genesis 2:18). When we distorted that destiny, Christ came to earth and reminded us. In the incarnation and crucifixion, He shared our nature, washed away the accumulated debris of our failures, and disclosed the inherent beauty of our humanity.

If nothing else, seasons of suffering and grief are opportunities to see this beauty better. They bring with them the extraordinary offer to receive and see Christ in the comforting embrace of those around us and to embody His radical, self-emptying love to one another. 

Painful seasons can emerge at any time, and at any given moment, there are people around us who are struggling through them. Rather than wishing these seasons away, I pray we can embrace the extraordinary offer of Christ’s presence and share it wherever it is needed.