Written by Forrest L. Marion |
Monday, February 7, 2022
I recently had the opportunity to worship in a church in Sumter, South Carolina, that I had attended faithfully as a single man in my twenties more than 35 years ago. In the mid-1980s, stationed at nearby Shaw Air Force Base, I attended a local Bible church where many of the congregation clearly loved Jesus Christ and His Word. In my several years there, I connected with an older couple in the church, Herman and Rachel.

I recently had the opportunity to worship in a church in Sumter, South Carolina, that I had attended faithfully as a single man in my twenties more than 35 years ago. In the mid-1980s, stationed at nearby Shaw Air Force Base, I attended a local Bible church where many of the congregation clearly loved Jesus Christ and His Word. In my several years there, I connected with an older couple in the church, Herman and Rachel. Herman was born before 1920, was reared in Marion, South Carolina, and, like many young men during the Great Depression era served for a time in the 1930s in the New Deal’s Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC). When the United States entered the Second World War, Herman wanted to serve in the military but was married and with a child on the way. His wife, Rachel, was also from the town of Marion. (I recall one of them sharing with me that their family’s first telephone number, a party line – was either 9 or 1J – that was all.) Their first child, I’ll call her “Patsy,” was born early in 1942.[1]
Expecting that he could serve without moving far from home, Herman enlisted in the Army Air Forces late in ’42 or early ’43, becoming a crew chief on the B-17 bombers that famously were carrying the fight to Hitler’s Germany from the skies. (Contrary to his expectations, he ended up moving around and was stationed for a time at Kingman, Arizona.) After the war, Herman returned to South Carolina, and residing in Sumter he worked for a cleaner’s, a bank, and, later, as a traveling salesman first with an auto parts company, then a hardware store. With the hardware store, his territory extended from Sumter to the east and south, down to Georgetown, S.C. He dealt with a lot of people in his career, and Herman didn’t know a stranger, as the saying goes. He loved people and loved to talk about the Lord Jesus and the Bible with them. Rachel liked to say that Herman never went anywhere without seeing someone he knew. Once on a family trip to Indiana, it was only on the way home, somewhere in Tennessee, where that record remained intact. Patsy recalled her daddy always said to the children growing up, “If you see someone without a smile, give them one of yours, because they need it more than you do.” Herman lived that saying. He also read the Bible at home with his family. Patsy felt he lived before the Lord in a way that she could see – not perfectly, of course – what Christ was like.
By the time I met him, he had retired. He and Rachel became my surrogate grandparents in those days. I well remember going to the Shoney’s in town with them, and it was difficult for us to finish a meal. That was because Herman knew everyone there, or so it seemed, and wanted to talk with them and they with him. (On my recent visit to our old church, I drove right past that Shoney’s as I followed Patsy to her home for lunch.) Patsy’s son, whom I met on my recent visit, shared that he still runs into strangers around the state who knew his granddad, who went home to his Lord in 2000. Patsy says the same about folks all over Sumter. Herman’s lifelong companion, Rachel, followed him to her Lord about five years later.
In his latter years, Herman developed Alzheimer’s and eventually moved into a Methodist home in Orangeburg, S.C., for the care and convenience it afforded. Patsy shared that in her dad’s time there, he had a roommate, a former pastor. On occasion, as Patsy visited from Sumter, she would find Herman and his roommate sitting literally “knee to knee” in their room, their Bibles open on their laps. Herman’s roommate also suffered from Alzheimer’s. Neither man could read his Bible any longer, but they had them open anyway, talking about God’s Word together, which both of them knew very well. The fact that one was white and the other was black mattered not at all. They both loved Jesus and His Word – and that was all that mattered.
Forrest Marion is a ruling elder in Eastwood Presbyterian Church (PCA) in Montgomery, Ala.
[1] To protect her identity, I chose to call her “Patsy” because she has been enjoying a book on George Washington’s family life. George called his wife, Martha, by the nickname, Patsy.

All human beings, in virtue of being human, bear God’s image, from the greatest to the least. The image of God is foundational to understanding how and why we do justice. It’s that image which creates the standard that lends to each person’s transcendent value, requiring us to treat all humans with dignity and worth. Without this standard, justice isn’t possible.

I’ve been writing a lot about justice, but why does any of it matter? Why are we having this conversation at all? Justice is a word that has often been muddied, distorted, and even disregarded. To be God’s agents of justice, we have to work through the mud and distortion and bring clarity to true justice.
Daniel Webster said, “Justice is the great interest of man on earth. It is the ligament which holds civilized beings and civilized nations together.” Justice is the glue that holds society together, but it’s more than glue. When we act justly, we experience the true joy of Jesus. As he said, “If you keep My commandments, you will abide in My love; just as I have kept My Father’s commandments and abide in His love. These things I have spoken to you so that My joy may be in you, and that your joy may be made full” (John 15:10–11).
As Christians, it’s paramount to understand biblical justice because what we think about justice influences almost every area of our lives. This is why I’ve been focusing on justice. The biblical concept of justice needs to be restored.
To restore justice, we need to understand a few critical concepts. The first is God’s call to justice. Justice is important to God. There are more than two thousand verses in the Bible directly related to justice. There are twice as many references to justice as to prayer, almost three times the references to love, and three times the number of references to money (which is often actually a justice issue).
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God brought Naomi from pleasantness to bitterness, from fullness to emptiness. Contrary to what she could see, God was not moving to destroy her. He was moving to save her and all mankind. God would give her a child through Ruth who would be the grandfather of King David, through whom the promised Christ would come. God didn’t reveal any of this to Naomi. She wanted sight, but she needed faith. The same is true for us.

Christians rejoice that God has called us out of our spiritual darkness into his marvelous light (1 Pet. 2:9). We walk by faith in the Light of the world. Yet sometimes God calls us to walk at night, when his providence perplexes or pains us. Even then, God has given us his word to guide us, like “a lamp shining in a dark place, until the day dawns” (2 Pet. 1:19). One helpful guide is the story of Naomi, who was also called to walk through the spiritual dark of suffering. As we see God’s gracious work in Naomi’s life, we learn three lessons for enduring spiritual nights.
Lesson 1: Prepare for the Night
Naomi’s story starts with suffering. We find her widowed, bereaved, and hungry (Ruth 1:1–5).  It might surprise us to learn that this sort of hardship is not the exception, but the norm for the Christian. God may not call us to suffer as Naomi suffered, but even so, Peter tells Christians not to “be surprised at the fiery trial when it comes upon you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you” (1 Pet. 4:12). Jesus did not tell us to affirm ourselves and take up our comforts, but to deny ourselves and take up our crosses.
This should not make us pessimistic; it should make us prepared. Nighttime always comes. We are not surprised when the sun sets, and because we know it is coming, we are prepared. Night shouldn’t surprise us. Neither should suffering.
In Genesis 41, God warned Pharaoh in a dream that seven years of plenty would be followed by seven years of famine. He did this so Pharaoh would prepare for the days of famine by filling his storehouses with grain during the days of plenty. True, God has not told us when our spiritual nights and famines will come, or how long they will last, but he has told us they will come. So we mustn’t waste the days of plenty, but use them to prepare for whenever the night or famine arrives. We must soak up the rays of the gospel when it shines brightly in our hearts, and fill the storehouses of our souls with its grace. We must prepare for the night through the means of grace God has given us, because our faith won’t see as well when the sun sets.
To lack a biblical theology of suffering confuses and confounds. We may be tempted to doubt God’s promises. God may feel distant and silent. Our physical and spiritual strength may be diminished. This is when we need to be sustained by stored grace. Our preparation will not make suffering more enjoyable, but it will make it more endurable.
Lesson 2: Don’t Trust Your Sight
When we suffer, it’s not uncommon to feel like the darkness will never lift.
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