“Now I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake, and in my
flesh I am filling up what is lacking in Christ’s afflictions for the sake of
his body, that is, the church.” Colossians 1:24
What commonly strikes us about this passage is the
phrase, “I rejoice in my sufferings,” and it is startling, indeed. Most of us
are not accustomed to, much less comfortable with, suffering so we wonder how
on earth someone can say something like this. It dawned on me, however, that
the substance of Paul’s statement is not about his suffering, but about the
institution and people for whom he suffers. In fact, Paul’s vision of that
organization, the Church, is so powerful his sufferings pale in comparison. But
do not make the mistake of thinking they become less important to him because
of the surpassing importance of the Church. His suffering does not “fade into
the background” – it becomes something new and powerful and a reason for
rejoicing.
The Church is just that important to people who are
called to give their lives to the church. Pastor, this means you. And disciple
of Jesus Christ, you are not exempt.
Paul suffered greatly in order to take the most important
message a human can hear around the Mediterranean world and many of his
exploits are dramatically recounted in 2 Corinthians 11:16-33. There are
pastors and Christians around the world today who still face the same kinds of
obstacles and trials because they bear the name of Christ, but many in the West
(today) do not experience suffering of the same sort. This does not mean,
however, the pastor does not suffer for the flock.
Try building a meaningful vocation in which the
definitions of success are diametrically opposed to the definitions of success
in the culture around you. This means that when people look at your work and
gauge your value, they are measuring apples (which often do not exist in “desired”
numbers) when you are striving to grow oranges. Not only is the tension of
success a struggle brought to the pastor from outside him or herself, it sits
deep within their own hearts. We grew up in this culture, too. We also see the
celebrity and financial status of those who have “succeeded” and we wonder what
has gone wrong with us. We need to have poison drawn from our own minds as
well, and it does not always leave easily.
Pastors and committed disciples of Christ rejoice when
someone comes to put their trust in Christ, and they rejoice at every step
along the way when that life shows signs of Christ himself. But because our
work is so connected with the people God created and loves, we feel deep pain
at those who drift in the opposite direction. In some ways, the life of the
pastor is constant heartbreak. At the end of Paul’s list of stonings,
floggings, and shipwrecks, he lists what sounds like the greatest burden he
endures, “And, apart from other things, there is the daily pressure on me of my
anxiety for all the churches” (vs. 28).
But the life of the Church and those within it is so
valuable, Paul has actually learned that when he exerts tremendous effort, when
he prays until he weeps himself dry, when he exhausts himself and the Church is
built, it is all joy.
Do we seek exhaustion and pain? Of course not. But can we
learn to place our trials and efforts for the sake of Christ and his Church in
a new context? Of course we can – and we should. And it begins with
reevaluating what we consider valuable in this world and what we are willing to
give for its health.