One of the most intimidating things Jesus taught was that, as his followers, we should expect to be persecuted. And one of the most surprising things he taught was that, when we encounter such persecution, we should face it with joy. “Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for so they persecuted the prophets who were before you” (Matthew 5:12). In Dustin Benge’s book The Loveliest Place, I read a brief explanation of what Jesus means by these words, and in that explanation an interesting application: True persecution will lead to true rejoicing. 

Benge says, “There is a paradoxical mystery within the words ‘Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven.’ Rejoice while suffering? Be glad amid ridicule? How can this be? This mystery is unveiled in the depth of our unyielding assurance that being with Jesus in glory will far more than reward us for any suffering we have faced in this life.” This was what Paul meant to communicate to the church in Corinth when he wrote his famous words of assurance: “For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal” (2 Corinthians 4:17–18).
It is our faith that sustains us in these times of persecution and our faith that gives us joy.

Our rejoicing and gladness proceed from faith in the unseen realm of eternity. The same faith that accepts Jesus Christ as Lord. The same faith that transforms us from one degree of glory to another. The same faith that stares our persecutors in the face and prays, “Father, forgive them; they do not know what they are doing.” These persecutions are “preparing for us” or “bringing about” an “eternal weight of glory.” The reward is out of this world, for Jesus is preparing it. To “be glad” is to enjoy a state of utter happiness and well-being. “Rejoice” is similar in meaning to being glad but is more intense. This denotes extreme gladness and extreme joy. Both these verbs in the Greek are present tense. Jesus is commanding his followers to be consistently and continually joyful and glad amid suffering and persecution.

We can rejoice even in terrible persecution because we have the faith to look ahead—to look ahead to see an eternity that, when compared to the minuscule amount of time we are called to suffer, is vast and boundless. We set our hearts and our hope on what is unseen yet completely certain.
Benge continues with an important application: “Jesus’s command to rejoice in the face of persecution leaves no room for the church to stagger into self-pity and dejection. Far too many of us are known more for our whining and complaining than for our rejoicing and gladness. Self-pity spoils the garments of Christ’s bride and defaces her beauty. The only acceptable responses to persecution are joy and celebration, with the firm assurance that our treasure resides in heaven, not in this temporal world.”
God never permits us to sink into self-pity or to shake our fists to the skies. He does not permit us to whine and complain when we face circumstances that have been decreed by his providence. Rather, he calls us to be joyful even in suffering. “Paul shows us that our joy, as believers yet in this world, is always mingled with sorrow. Believers should be ‘sorrowful, yet always rejoicing’ (2 Corinthians 6:10). We are sorrowful at the condition of the hearts of our persecutors while rejoicing that we are being persecuted for righteousness’ sake.”
Here is what I think we ought to consider: If we are experiencing some kind of trial, we may be able to judge whether we are being persecuted for our Christian faith by our response. If we respond to our trial with whining and griping, we are either facing persecution wrongly or perhaps not actually facing persecution at all. It could be that we are suffering the consequences of sin or being punished because of our rebellion against authority. It could be that we are provoking unbelievers to anger because of our poor behavior. It could be that God is chastising us for our unrepentant sin. It could be that we are not being persecuted at all.
However, if we experience hardship at the hands of men—suffering, trials, injustices—and find our hearts rejoicing rather than embittered, thankful rather than spiteful, satisfied rather than grumbly, we may well take this as evidence that we are suffering persecution and being filled with God’s Spirit to endure it well, to endure it for his glory. In that way, we can know we are being persecuted by our joyful response.

Good morning. May grace and peace be with you today.

(Yesterday on the blog: Richer Blood Than Ours)
What the Seasons Say
Glenna Marshall: “Sometimes I’ve wondered why God created things the way He did. Why day and night? Why four seasons? Why the divisions in days and years?” I like her answer.
God Is in the Details (Video)
You may enjoy this latest video from the John 10:10 Project.
For Better, for Worse…
“Last week I came across a remarkable story. Jean-Pierre Adams was a French footballer in the 1970s and 80s, and he passed away on the 6th September, aged 73. He was capped 22 times for France, and was part of a formidable defensive duo for the national side. He played over 250 games for Nice, Nimes and Paris Saint-Germain. But what makes this story remarkable is that for the past 39 years he has been in a coma, looked after tirelessly by his wife.”
Signaling Our Consumption
John Beeson: “We no longer just buy things. A choice to purchase your groceries at Whole Foods, to take your family to Chic-Fil-A, to wear Patagonia clothing, or eat Ben & Jerry’s ice cream communicates something to everyone watching. Brands are tripping over themselves to signal the loudest.”
You Need Christ to Put Your Sin to Death
Dane Ortlund writes about putting sin to death. “There is the kind of pain that comes to us without our permission—suffering, anguish, frustration, washing into our lives contrary to what we want or expect. But alongside this kind of pain in which we are passive is another kind of pain in which we are active. I refer to the age-old discipline that theologians call mortification.”
The Frustrating Paradox of Serving with an Amiable Autocrat
I appreciate this term: amiable autocrat. “It’s possible to be a pleasant tyrant. Nice dictators exist, at least in the leadership sense. I refer to these types of leaders in the church as amiable autocrats. Friendly church dictators rule from their positional authority. They order everyone around because their title enables them to do so, and they do it with a smile.”
Flashback: How To Lose Your Zeal for Christ
Are you zealous for Christ? Do you have a genuine zeal to live for him and to advance his cause in the world? Or have you lost the zeal that once marked you?

There is no lesson that husbands and wives need more to learn, than instantly and always to seek forgiveness of each other whenever they are conscious of having in any way caused pain or committed a wrong. —J.R. Miller

No visit to Edinburgh is complete until you’ve walked to the top of the Royal Mile to tour Edinburgh Castle. The castle has been remarkably well maintained and is as splendid now as it was in its heyday. You can stand on the battlements high above the city and see all the landmarks—the Firth of Forth, Arthur’s Seat, the Scott Monument. You can tour the beautiful Great Hall where Scotland’s royal family hosted lavish banquets. You can enter the Royal Palace and see the nation’s crown jewels. It’s a beautiful spot rich with history and all wonderfully preserved.

A few kilometers away, closer to the outskirts of the city, is another historic castle, and one that has fallen on hard times. Where Edinburgh Castle retains most of its splendor, Craigmillar Castle retains little. It may not quite be a ruin, but it’s not far from it. Though parts of the walls still stand, other parts have long since collapsed. Though you can take stairways to some of the battlements, others are tottering and in danger of collapsing. Though you can see the outlines of the different rooms and buildings, they are all in a sad state of disrepair. It’s a mere shell, a mere shadow, of its former self.
In these two castles I see an illustration of humanity. We were created by God to be perfect—unmarred by sin and all of its terrible effects. God’s law was written on our hearts so that we knew what he required and why he required it. God’s blessing was upon us so that we could do all that he required of us out of joyful obedience to him. We were like Edinburgh Castle—whole, complete, splendid, maintained.
Yet through our own obstinacy we fell into sin and thus into a state of decay. We rebelled against God and brought upon ourself the fearsome consequences—suffering and sorrow, warfare and weeping, death and eternal destruction. We were left little more than Craigmillar Castle, a shell of our former selves—broken, incomplete, marred, wrecked.
But what of the law that was written on our hearts? Was it blotted out? Was it destroyed? No, by God’s grace. It has now been distorted, to be certain. It is no longer clear and pristine. But it is still there even in the most rebellious of human beings so that like Craigmillar Castle we can still trace its shape, still fit together the pieces, still gain a distant glimpse of the beauty and the glory of its original design—the beauty and glory for which we were designed.
For as Sinclair Ferguson says,

Paul … says that even in societies where the Law of Moses has not been known, to a certain extent people may still sometimes do ‘by nature’—we might say ‘instinctively’—the things the law of God commands. They thus show that the requirements of the law are written on their hearts. The human heart retains a distorted copy, a smudged image of God’s original will. All of us retain some sense that we were created in God’s likeness, made to live for his glory, and hard-wired for obedience to him as it were—although now major distortions and malfunctions have affected our instincts. Were that hard-wiring totally destroyed we would cease to be distinctly human. But, in fact, relics of it remain in us, fragments of our lost destiny. Like a ruined castle it is still possible to discern the glory for which we were created.

And for that we ought to praise God!