We aren’t certain whether gold is pure or alloyed until it is tested in the fire. We don’t know whether steel is rigid or brittle until it is tested by stress. We can’t have confidence that water is pure until it passes through a filter. And in much the same way, we don’t know what our faith is made of until we face trials. It is the testing of our faith that displays its genuineness, says Peter, and it is passing through the trial that generates praise and glory and honor. Though we do not wish to endure trials and do not deliberately bring them upon ourselves, we know that in the providence of God they are purposeful and meaningful, that they are divine means to make us “perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.”

There are many who face trials and do not pass the test. Some face physical pain and through it grow angry with God and determine they cannot love a God who lets them endure such difficulties. Some face the possibility of persecution and find they prefer to run from the faith than to suffer for it. Some have children who turn to aberrant sexual practices and who prefer to renounce God than fail to affirm their kids. Some watch loved ones suffer and die and determine that a God who permits such things is not worthy of their love, their trust, their admiration. In these ways and so many more, some are tested and, through the test, shown to have a faith that is fraudulent.
Yet there are many others who face such trials and emerge with their faith not only intact, but strengthened. They face physical pain and through it grow in submission to God and confidence in his purposes. They face the possibility of persecution and find they would prefer to suffer than to deny the God who has saved them. They have children who turn to aberrant sexual practices and, though they still love their kids, refuse to affirm them. They watch loved ones suffer and die and say, in meekness, that the God with the right to give is the God with the right to take away.
What fascinates me is how bad we are at predicting who will pass the test and who will not. We sometimes look at people who have accumulated great stores of Bible trivia and great knowledge of Christian doctrine and assume they are the ones who will necessarily pass through the fire unharmed. Yet these are sometimes the ones who turn away at the first heat. We sometimes look at people who have only a rudimentary store of Bible trivia and little knowledge of Christian doctrine and assume they are the ones who will be first to waver, stumble, and fall. Yet these are often the ones who cling most tenaciously. We are not nearly as wise, not nearly as discerning, as we may have thought.
All of this goes to prove that what matters is not the size of a person’s faith, but its object. What secures us in our trials is not the magnitude of our faith, but the power of the one in whom we have placed it. The smallest bit of faith in God is worth infinitely more than the greatest bit of faith in ourselves, or the strongest measure of faith in faith itself. Faith counts for nothing unless its object is Jesus Christ.
Thus, when the fire burns hot, we learn to our surprise that some may have had tremendous faith in themselves, but no faith in Jesus. When the floods rise high, we learn to our shock that some may have had faith in faith, but no faith in the Lord of all the universe. Yet when others pass through the flames, we learn to our joy that though their faith may have been little greater than a mustard seed, its object was the eternal, immortal God. When the waters swell around them and it seems as if they may go under, we learn to the satisfaction of our souls that though their faith may have been very small, it was faith in the one who is the Rock. We learn, with praise in our hearts, that they have been held fast by the one who is the glorious object of their unwavering faith.

I’ve got marriage on my mind today as we prepare to gather this evening to celebrate Abby and Nathan’s wedding. One little gift I have given them is a copy of J.R. Miller’s The Wedded Life, a sweet little book he wrote for just such an occasion. This particular copy was given to a couple in 1906 and contains the signatures of all those who attended their ceremony over a century ago. I love that it will be present in the early days of their marriage as well. Here’s just a small snippet of the wise counsel Miller offers in his book.

No marriage is complete, which does not unite and blend the wedded lives at every point. This can be secured only by making every interest common to both. Let both hearts throb with the same joy and share each pang of sorrow. Let the same burdens rest on the shoulders of both. Let the whole life be made common.
In another sense still, should their lives blend. They should read and study together, having the same line of thought, helping each other toward a higher mental culture.
They should worship together, praying side by side, communing on the holiest themes of life and hope, and together carrying to God’s feet the burdens of their hearts for their children and for every precious object. Why should they not talk together of their personal trials, their peculiar temptations, their infirmities, and help each other by sympathy, by brave word and by intercession, to be victorious in living?
Thus they should live one life as it were, not two. Every plan and hope of each should embrace the other. The moment a man begins to leave his wife out of any part of his life—or that she has plans, hopes, pleasures, friendships or experiences from which she excludes him—there is peril in the home. They should have no secrets which they keep from each other.
Thus their two lives should blend in one life with no thought, no desire, no feeling, no joy or sorrow, no pleasure or pain, unshared.

Back in the 1950s, humanity entered into a great age of space exploration as the United States and the Soviet Union battled to be first to the moon. It seems to me that we are now entering into a second great age of space exploration as billionaires battle it out to see who can be first to establish a permanent outpost in space.

We don’t need to push our minds too hard to imagine a scenario in which one of these billionaires announces he is establishing a new nation somewhere beyond earth. We might imagine him making an announcement and saying, “This world is falling apart, the earth is collapsing under the weight of war and epidemic and pollution, so we are going to start over. We are putting out the call to help create Humanity 2.0. Join me as I found the Kingdom of Space.”
The billionaire who is founding this state might explain something like this: “This new nation will be better and greater than any nation or any civilization in the whole history of mankind. Because we are going to recreate humanity, we need to ensure we bring along only the best of the best—only the sharpest minds, only the most impressive personalities, only the most beautiful bodies, only the most accomplished individuals. We need the wise, the winsome, the winners, the well-to-do so together we can fulfill our potential and become all humanity can be. Come to me all who are mighty and self-sufficient. Bring in the rich and the beautiful, the impressive and the accomplished.”
Jesus, too, has founded a kingdom—the kingdom of heaven—and his kingdom could hardly be more different. It’s a kingdom where the call goes out to the low instead of the high. Its king says “come to me all who are weary and heavy laden,” and “bring in the poor and crippled and blind and lame.” But even that’s not enough. He sends his emissaries to the halfway houses and drop-in centers and group homes and says, “Bring them all in!” If the human instinct is to build a kingdom upon those who are strong and mighty, impressive and successful, God’s instinct is to build a kingdom upon those who are weak and lowly, who are meek and merciful.
Keeping these two perspectives in mind, let me present you with two different visions for humanity. Let’s imagine now that our billionaire is ready to blast off to begin his Kingdom of Space. He has chosen the cream of the human crop to accompany him, and now together they are parading toward the great ship will that take them to their new nation.
At the head of the parade is our billionaire himself. He sits tall, proud, and resplendent in an open-roofed limousine. The crowds cry out their praise to this champion among men. Behind him come a whole host of winners of the Nobel Prize, each of them displaying their medal. Behind them walk the founders of the world’s great corporations carrying huge stacks of their money. Next are kings and queens, holding the scepters of their power. Next are athletes clutching their trophies, musicians displaying their awards, actors holding their Oscars and Emmys. It is a parade of the powerful and beautiful, the wealthy and accomplished, the influential and formidable. The crowds stand and applaud as these great people parade by. And soon enough they rise to the stars to found their new nation. But what they don’t know is that their kingdom, too, will end, for though it may be a kingdom beyond the bounds of this earth, it is still within the kingdom of this world. Their medals and scepters and money and trophies and everything else they cling to, everything else they count as a credential, will rust and decay and turn to dust.
But now let’s watch a second march. Let’s watch as the citizens of the kingdom of heaven pass by. At the head of them all come the humble, the ones who can barely lift their faces but can say only, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner!” Their hands are empty. Next come people whose eyes are red with mourning over their sin and sinfulness. They too have empty hands. Some of them limp by on crutches, some roll by in wheelchairs. Behind them are the ones who are meek and the ones who have waged a lifelong battle to become holy. Watch now as people pass by who dedicated their lives to extending mercy to the overlooked and marginalized, then people whose hearts and hands have remained pure in a world that tempted them so sorely. Then see the ones who brought peace where there was conflict, and ones who stood strong even when they were hated and beaten. See how among them there are representatives from every nation, every tribe and people and tongue. See how they each have empty hands, see how each of them wears just a simple white robe, unadorned by medals or ribbons or regalia.
Last of all, comes a simple man all alone who looks despised and rejected. He has no form or majesty that we should look at him, no great beauty that we should desire him. He comes in the form of a servant; he is humble and lowly and riding on a donkey. Look carefully and you will see that his hands and feet are deeply wounded, that blood runs down his forehead from where thorns have been pressed into it. Listen to the crowds as they raise their voices to jeer and hiss and boo.
But look again, look closer, look with eyes of faith, and you will see that as he passes you by he is utterly transformed. Look and see that this lowly servant has become a king, a warrior whose name is Faithful and True. See that his lowly colt has become a mighty white horse, that his crown of thorns has become the crown of a king, that the crowds suddenly fall to their faces before him. See that as he passes by he turns and looks you in the eye and he opens his mouth and he says, “Follow me.”
And so, my friend, if you have not already done so, hear his call, heed his welcome, receive your citizenship, take up your place in his march and follow him into the kingdom of heaven, the kingdom that has now begun but which will never, ever end.