By Linda Rex
While reflecting on the events of Holy Week yesterday, it came to my mind that even the small details of Jesus’ life, death and resurrection reflect the love of the Father for his Son.
I got to thinking about how it was all orchestrated that Jesus, though born in poverty, was buried in a rich man’s tomb so that a long-forgotten scripture would be fulfilled:
His grave was assigned with wicked men,
Yet He was with a rich man in His death,
Because He had done no violence,
Nor was there any deceit in His mouth.
The Bible Knowledge Commentary suggests that perhaps Jesus had made these arrangements ahead of time with this Joseph. It is conceivable that Jesus might have done that, since he was well aware of what would occur and how it would end up, and had for quite some time been preparing his disciples for this reality. Jesus may have made sure this was taken care of so that his mother Mary or the rest of his family would not have had to deal with the details.
In any case, whoever this man Joseph of Arimathea was, we do know this about him: he risked his reputation, his position as a member of the Sanhedrin, and his life in order to give Jesus a dignified burial. This was not normally done for crucified criminals. They were normally thrown in a mass grave, rejected and forgotten, or not even buried.
Jesus’ kinsmen, the Jews, preferred the dignity of appropriate burial for their dead, but they would not have gone to the extent Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus went to in providing a new, unused family tomb, spices and fine linen for the burial of Jesus. Because Jesus had been crucified, they would not have given him an honorable burial at all.
Joseph was able to use his influence and position in the Sanhedrin to request from Pilate and receive the body of Jesus after his death. Jesus’ family would not have been able to request and receive his remains. Nor would have any of his disciples. Joseph was perfectly positioned to be able to do this.
And since Jesus was placed in a new tomb, and the tomb was sealed by the Jewish authorities and guarded by the Roman soldiers, the evidence for the resurrection was even more obvious when it occurred. No doubt Joseph’s service to Jesus ended up playing a bigger role in God’s plan than he ever imagined.
How fitting it was that Joseph of Arimathea bore the name of Jesus’ human father. In the Spirit of Jesus’ heavenly father, Joseph, with the help of others, expressed the compassion and affection of a loving parent by taking Jesus off his cross, tenderly caring for him and laying him in a new tomb.
Here is Jesus, God’s beloved Son, being given a hasty, but dignified burial worthy of a godly man and dearly loved child. Joseph participated in a unique way in God’s work of fulfilling all things through and in his Son Jesus Christ in his life, death and resurrection.
We can learn from this simple gesture of love and compassion that each of us has a unique place in God’s story. God takes us where we are, using not only our gifts and talents, but our relationships, our influence, our finances and belongings as well, in accomplishing his kingdom work.
We each can and do have a meaningful role in the accomplishment of God’s will in this world. Perhaps instead of trying to offer some significant, earth-splitting, profound contribution to mankind, we need to take a humbler path of service. Something so simple and profound as the care of the dead, giving of one’s wealth, time and reputation for the sake of caring for those who are the outcasts of society—this is a great gift of service.
Joseph illustrated with his life what Jesus did symbolically on his knees in the upper room the final night before his arrest. He gave freely and served humbly and compassionately. And it was enough.
Father, thank you for the gift of your Son. Thank you, too, for all the people you place in our lives who show us your love and compassion through their simple acts of service. Grant us the grace to serve humbly too with all that we have and all that we are. In Jesus’ name. Amen.
“When it was evening, there came a rich man from Arimathea, named Joseph, who himself had also become a disciple of Jesus. This man went to Pilate and asked for the body of Jesus. Then Pilate ordered it to be given to him. And Joseph took the body and wrapped it in a clean linen cloth, and laid it in his own new tomb, which he had hewn out in the rock; and he rolled a large stone against the entrance of the tomb and went away.” Matthew 27:57–60 NASB
by Linda Rex
Have you ever had one of those days when everything went exactly as you planned it? And everyone who saw you had something upbeat to tell you? You were in your glory—all was wonderful and beautiful?
Sometimes life gets pretty gloomy and we forget that good things do happen to us. If you’ve never experienced a really good day or even part of a good day, then I pray you will have that experience. There’s nothing quite like it.
I’ve talked a lot in my blogs and my preaching about how God shares all of life with us, especially the suffering, grief and sorrow of life. But he also shares the glory days with us.
We will be celebrating Palm Sunday this weekend and as I read through the story again it occurred to me that here is a time in Christ’s humanity when he had a glory day. The pilgrims entering Jerusalem to worship at the temple during the Passover season were welcomed and celebrated. Jesus, however, received an even more special greeting, for he was being welcomed as the Messiah. And, indeed, he was the King of the universe, come to save his people. Even though they misunderstood what kind of king and savior he was, they were absolutely right in acknowledging his glory.
Oftentimes we will run into someone who objects to us receiving the glory that is ours. In Jesus’ case, the religious leaders objected to all this praise. It infringed on them receiving the glory they thought was theirs alone. And it most certainly looked like the people were giving glory to Jesus that only God deserved.
But Jesus said if the people didn’t praise him, the stones themselves would cry out in praise. No one would stand in the way of God in Christ receiving the praise and glory due him. Jesus himself would not prevent anyone from giving glory to God at this moment. God was keeping his Word, fulfilling every promise made to man since the beginning of time in the person of his Son. How could anyone be silent in this moment?
What can help to keep our feet on the ground in the midst of our own personal glory day is recognizing that whatever glory we receive is taken up in Christ and perfected in him. Whatever glory we receive is a participation in Christ’s glory.
We were created to be reflections of God’s glory. Glory was never meant to be ours alone, independent of God. For it is in him that we “live and move and exist” as the apostle Paul said. As we shine, God is glorified, and we can point to him as the source and meaning of whatever recognition, praise and blessing we may receive from others.
Yes, we were meant to shine, to excel, to be praiseworthy. But all in union and communion with God in Christ. Gathered about us—in us, with us, for us—we find the Father, Son and Spirit overflowing with love, joy and pleasure at the accomplishment and success and beauty of their child. God’s glory overflows into us and shines for all to see.
When the praise that is due comes, the compliments are showered on you, the recognition is given to you—receive them. Don’t reject them in false humility. Rather embrace them as opportunities to share in Christ’s glory. Turn them into the praise of God they are meant to be. Experience them as a participation in the life and love of the Father, Son and Spirit. You are God’s beloved child and he gets real excited when you have a glory day. So enjoy it with him!
Holy God, thank you so much for sharing your glory with us in Christ. Thank you for giving us happy times and times when we do well and praise comes. Grant us the grace to remember that it all is a participation in your life and love, your glory, rather than trying to hoard it and keep it for ourselves. For we acknowledge that it is in you, and you alone, that we live and move and have our existence. Amen.
“As soon as He was approaching, near the descent of the Mount of Olives, the whole crowd of the disciples began to praise God joyfully with a loud voice for all the miracles which they had seen, shouting: “Blessed is the King who comes in the name of the Lord; Peace in heaven and glory in the highest!” Some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to Him, “Teacher, rebuke Your disciples.” But Jesus answered, “I tell you, if these become silent, the stones will cry out!” Luke 19:37–40
By Linda Rex
Have you ever felt like God just totally let you down? I mean, not in a little way, but in a big, huge way?
Has he ever seemed to have just closed his eyes to the disaster that was looming in front of you, that you had repeatedly told him about, that you begged him to save you from, and he seemed to have just have ignored you? Did God just let it crush you, overwhelm you and ruin your life?
It’s hard to imagine that a God who is love would even consider doing such a thing. How could he be love and yet at the same time stand by and watch us be devastated by something he could have prevented? Indeed, it’s hard for us understand the heart of God in such matters.
The apostle John tells the story of a man in Bethany named Lazarus who contracted a fatal illness. His sisters Mary and Martha sent for their dear friend Jesus to come and heal Lazarus. It seemed like a simple matter, and they trusted that Jesus, being such a loving, compassionate friend and having the power to heal, surely would do whatever was necessary to make Lazarus well.
When he heard the news of Lazarus’ illness, Jesus told his disciples to wait. They misunderstood his motives, thinking he was concerned about himself, that he wanted to avoid trouble in Jerusalem.
In fact, he deliberately waited until he got the news that Lazarus was dead. Then he said, “Don’t worry. This is all for God’s glory.” And against their protestations, he told the disciples they would be going to Bethany.
On the face of it, not responding to the plea for healing would seem to be the most arrogant, heartless thing he could have done. It is no wonder that when she finally did see him, Martha said, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” (John 11:21) Yeah, Jesus, where were you when we needed you? I can’t believe you let us down like this!
Was Jesus really that insensitive and heartless? I think it is significant that in this place we read those two precious words: “Jesus wept.” Jesus, as God in human flesh, wept. He cried openly and fully.
He wasn’t heartless and cold. He shared the pain and loss and sorrow of his dear friends, and he expressed it. Even though he knew in the next moment that Lazarus would be alive again, he grieved with his friends and shared their pain. He understood what it cost them for the will of God to be accomplished in this moment. And it broke his heart.
In our simplicity, we often don’t perceive the depth, height, length and breadth of God’s love or wisdom. It’s hard to understand how allowing deep suffering in one person’s life in this moment can be such a blessing to others in the next. Or why God would be deaf to our pleas for intervention now, but then he may intervene dramatically some time later.
It’s easy to question God’s motives, to suspect him of being heartless and uncaring. Our trust of God is often tested, and when he fails to live up to our expectations of what a loving God must be like, we feel let down and disappointed. We find it hard then to have any faith in a God that does not deliver.
Could it be at this moment, Jesus understood the pain his disciples and followers would feel in the next few days as he would be crucified and buried in a tomb? Was he hoping that they would catch a glimpse of the glory that would come through death and resurrection and so have hope in spite of the circumstances?
We don’t know the mind of God, but we can know his heart. His heart toward us is always and ever love—the full expression of his very nature. And even when we don’t know his mind we can always trust his heart. For in the end, he will prove that he is and always has been love, just as in Jesus, he demonstrated it through death and resurrection.
Father, thank you that in Jesus you showed us depth, height, width and breadth of your love for us. Holy Spirit, renew in us the faith to believe that your heart toward us, God, is always and ever good. Grant us the grace to trust you even when we feel only disappointment, despair and loss. Remind us that every tear we shed and every pain we feel you share with us in Jesus. In his name we pray. Amen.
“Jesus wept. So the Jews were saying, “See how He loved him!” But some of them said, “Could not this man, who opened the eyes of the blind man, have kept this man also from dying?” John 11:35–37 NASB
By Linda Rex
One of the things I enjoy doing on a summer night is to sit around an open fire with friends and family. Something about sharing laughter and stories under a starry sky is heartwarming and inspiring.
Eventually the fire burns down and there are only glowing coals left. During a pause in conversation, the night sounds become more pronounced. Out on the farm in Missouri and in Iowa, we would hear the coyotes, owls and frogs, along with the constant chirp of the crickets.
Any fire left unattended and unfed would eventually go out. But even a few dying embers, if fed the right fuel and given enough oxygen, would burst back into flames.
There are times when I feel as though my inner spiritual flame has been left unattended too long. Being preoccupied with daily living and worn down with the stresses of everyday life, even of ministry itself, can become spiritually suffocating. Even though I know God is near, sometimes I can feel as though the flame of faith within me has been reduced to dying embers.
If it was fully dependent upon me to keep the flame of faith alive, I would be in real trouble. It is a comfort to know that Jesus Christ stands ever ready to intercede and to fill each of us with his faith, with the fresh air of his Spirit of power, love and self-discipline. I am grateful that the Spirit does not come and go willy-nilly, but he abides—he stays. God is ever-present, fully in us, with us, for us.
Yes, we can and should participate in the ministry of the Spirit by inviting him to fill us. We can open ourselves to hear and heed his Word to us. We can be willing to suffer if necessary for the sake of Christ. And we can actively, in whatever way he gives us, bear witness to the grace of God for us in Jesus Christ. All of these things help to fan the flame of the Spirit within us.
Even if you feel like all that is left within you are just a few dying embers, do not give up hope. Perhaps all you need is a fresh wind of the Holy Spirit or a hefty chunk of his Word to feed the flame. Maybe just adding a twig or two of effort to share with someone the story of how God has done something special in your life will do the trick. Maybe just a sigh of a prayer, “God, I’m here and I’m yours” is what’s needed. Each and every one of these bits of fuel can help reignite the fire of faith.
And never forget the power of community—spiritual community feeds the fire of faith. This is why we’re encouraged not to neglect assembling together with others who believe in Christ. How often our faith is renewed by the prayer, the concern and/or a fitting word from someone who listened and who knew just what to say!
In any case, never give up hope. The fire may have died down. There may only be few glowing coals left. But even a few dying embers have the capacity to ignite a holy flame.
Holy God, please refresh us today, reigniting the fire of your Presence within. Restore and renew our faith. Bring us back to full flame, feeding us with the fuel of your Spirit, your Word and your testimony. We praise you for your faithfulness in keeping us alit with the fire of faith. We trust you will finish what you have begun in us by your Spirit, in Jesus’ name. Amen.
“I have been reminded of your sincere faith, which first lived in your grandmother Lois and in your mother Eunice and, I am persuaded, now lives in you also. For this reason I remind you to fan into flame the gift of God, which is in you through the laying on of my hands. For God did not give us a spirit of timidity, but a spirit of power, of love and of self-discipline. So do not be ashamed to testify about our Lord, or ashamed of me his prisoner. But join with me in suffering for the gospel, by the power of God, who has saved us and called us to a holy life—not because of anything we have done but because of his own purpose and grace.” 2 Timothy 1:5–9 NIV
by Linda Rex
The thought came to mind this afternoon that it is easy for any of us to imagine that everything in this world ought to revolve around our wishes. I am reminded of the line from the movie “Princess Bride” which was repeated more than once by the hero of the story. It was an expression of his love for the beautiful princess. When he was incognito, she recognized him by his use of the phrase, “As you wish.”
There is a freedom that comes with love—a freedom that may put the relationship itself at risk. This is the freedom to not love the other, if one wishes. It is the freedom to think, act and relate in ways that are unique to oneself rather than in harmony with the other party. It is the freedom that comes with personhood—with being self-aware, being created with a human, made in God’s image, identity.
Some of the saddest relationships I have seen are those in which this phrase is used improperly. One or the other of the parties involved is so controlling and/or insecure that the other is never allowed to have a differing opinion, a separate will, or an individual choice. Or the person has willingly given up that freedom, thinking that is what having a relationship requires. But this is not a healthy relationship—because there is a person in this relationship whose personhood is being violated.
We learn from God what it means to be persons, each with a separate unique identity but made to live in harmonious relationships with God and others. Jesus, as God taking on human flesh in the incarnation, showed us that he had an individual identity which reflected God in which he was free to choose, to love and not love. And at the same time he never did anything apart from or opposed to the will of his Father. In the Spirit, he lived in harmony with and in obedience to the will of God. He loved freely and fully.
Jesus taught us that God is Father, Son and Spirit—each unique, equal and eternally one. How is it that three unique, equal individuals can at the same time be one? Here the church fathers coined the term perichoresis or ‘making room for one another.’ There is the kind of freedom in love where each party makes room for the other to be fully who she or he is. It is God’s nature to be fully free in love in this way. Each says to the other, in essence, “As you wish” and yet no one’s personhood is ever violated.
And because of Jesus Christ’s life, death, resurrection and ascension, God has included us in that divine relationship of love. In sending his Spirit to us as humans, he has made a way for us to share in the perichoretic union and communion in which he lives. He’s willingly risked it all to give each of us the freedom to love or not love, as we wish.
But at the same time, God calls us into a new way of being, a new way of loving and living. He calls us into a relationship with himself in which we are to say to him, “As you wish.” And he says to us, “As you wish.”
This is why, when all is said and done, the choice to not love, to not be in relationship with God, to reject all that God has done for us in Christ to give us new life and forgiveness, is ours to freely make—and God will honor that choice. He will work as long as he is able with all that is in him to bring us to a change of mind and heart, but the choice is ultimately ours. And he will honor it, even though it may break his heart.
So, as once again I am frustrated by the demands of a thoughtless person, I say in my soul, “Father, as you wish,” and in the Spirit of that submission say to this person with grace, “As you wish.” I am mindful of all the times I have made thoughtless, unreasonable demands and so, with sincerity, I freely choose to forgive and move on. Perhaps another time love will require a different answer, but for now, this is enough.
Heavenly Father, thank you for saying to each of us freely in love, “As you wish,” and for calling us into a relationship with you in which you provide for us in Christ by the Spirit the heart and will to say to you, “As you wish.” Grant us the grace to live freely in love with one another and with you in this way. In Jesus’ name. Amen.
“And He withdrew from them about a stone’s throw, and He knelt down and began to pray, saying, ‘Father, if You are willing, remove this cup from Me; yet not My will, but Yours be done.’” Luke 22:41–42 NASB
by Linda Rex
This morning I was reading about the spiritual discipline of sacrifice. I got to thinking about how so many of us love hearing stories about people who put themselves at risk for the sake of an animal or another person. These are the kind of stories that go viral on the Web—everybody loves a hero.
The thing is—there wouldn’t be heroes if there weren’t people who were willing to sacrifice something, including their own life and well-being, for the sake of someone else. But where does this willingness to lay down our lives and our well-being for another come from?
It is my belief that such a heart and mind is not something we drum up out of our own humanness. Really, our natural tendency is not to sacrifice but to self-protect and be self-absorbed not self-sacrificing. I mean, really—if you or I were asked to give our month’s salary away so that someone who is homeless could live somewhere, would we do it?
We’re happy to give if it doesn’t cost us anything. But what if it cost us something, cost us a lot, maybe even cost us everything? Would we do it? Speaking for myself—I have a long way to go to be truly self-sacrificing.
I believe that this heart of self-sacrifice and service is something that comes from outside of ourselves. It is the heart of the God who made us. And we all share in that Spirit of self-sacrifice that was expressed in his gift of his Son Jesus to all humanity.
When I see a mother daily sacrifice her hopes and dreams, her possibility of a meaningful career, for the sake of caring for her disabled or special needs child—I see the heart of the Father. This is the Spirit of self-sacrifice that is a beautiful reflection of God’s perichoretic love—making room for another within the family circle at tremendous cost to oneself.
When I see a spouse tenderly visit and care for his or her mate each day even though the loved one has forgotten who he or she is, I see the tender and faithful love of God at work. This expression of love in the face of forgetfulness or rejection has its roots in the patient, longsuffering and faithful love of God, who never turns us away even though we may turn away from him.
I was reading a story this morning about a soldier who put his life at risk during the Vietnam War to care for a Vietnamese woman’s child in the middle of combat. What would drive a solder to lay down his or her life in this way? This Spirit of self-sacrifice has its roots in the nature of God who is love. It is an expression of the heart of the God who was willing to lay aside his divinity so that he could share in our humanity and reconcile our self-centered, selfish nature with his at tremendous cost to himself.
When faced with different options in life, the question occurs to me—will I take the high road? Will I do the difficult thing? Will I risk anything, maybe even risk all, for the sake of another? Will I do something that will cost me something, maybe even everything? Or will I take the easy road?
I think Robert Frost had it right. To take the untraveled road, the more difficult path is the better choice. It is the choice inspired by the One who has given us the power of choice. With our gift of free will, will we take the high road, the road of sacrifice? Or will we continue in the cyclonic black hole of self-absorption and self-centeredness? May God grant us the grace to take the high road in every circumstance in which it is needed.
Lord, thank you for always choosing to do the hard thing whenever necessary. Grant us your heart of service and self-sacrifice so that we may be an accurate reflection of your divine perichoretic love. We need your grace in this as in everything. Thank you that it is there for us in Jesus. Amen.
“My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends.” John 15:12–13 NIV
By Linda Rex
I love reading. I have a stack of books that I gathered while doing my thesis that I wanted to read but didn’t have the time to enjoy. Now that my schoolwork doesn’t take up all my down time, I’ve begun reading some of these, a few chapters each day.
This morning I was reading a chapter in the book “Authentic Faith” by Gary L. Thomas. This book is an interesting overview of certain spiritual disciplines that we as the Christian church in America sometimes overlook. I feel that learning and practicing spiritual disciplines as a means of putting ourselves in the presence of God and opening ourselves up to the Holy Spirit to work is an essential part of our spiritual formation or growing up in Christ.
So, as I started to say, I came across the spiritual discipline of mourning. Now I would have to assume that mourning is not something we as human beings would naturally choose to do. If anything, I’m thinking that most of us do everything we can to avoid feeling pain or having to deal with difficult situations, horror or suffering. Taking painkillers for pain is considered normal behavior in our society. So much so that they are often abused. And many people use other forms of dealing with pain that are not always healthy—alcohol and drug abuse for example.
Unfortunately, the reality is that pain, suffering and grief are a part of our natural human condition. I believe one of the reasons such suffering, evil and pain are a part of our world today is because we as human beings do not practice the spiritual discipline of mourning. When an evil is perpetrated against another human being—we may make that a big news story in the media or on the Web, but how does it affect us personally? Do we feel the pain that goes along with the evil? Do we weep at the injustice and groan inwardly at the carnage? Are we then motivated by our sorrow to right the injustice or to heal the hurt? Rarely.
I don’t know about you, but too often I find my own self turning away from the story because I can’t bear the pain. I turn away and miss God’s invitation to mourn with him over the suffering in his world. I fail to participate in Christ’s suffering by refusing the opportunity to weep and sorrow over the injustice and depravity I witness. I too often am blind to the grief of others or am insensitive and thoughtless in responding to their suffering.
This week many Christians the world over participated in the observance of Ash Wednesday. The observance of this day marks the beginning of the season of Lent, which precedes the Easter celebrations marking the crucifixion, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Lent is typically the season in which Christians practice penitence, fasting from certain foods or items in acknowledgement of their need for and appreciation of God’s grace.
One of the things I think we can overlook as we consider the concept of mourning evil, grieving losses, and practicing penitence, is that these things are not something we as Christians have to do all on our own as though they are something we owe God, ourselves or each other. Rather, we practice penitence, repentance, grief, and mourning as a participation in Christ’s grief, penitence, repentance and mourning. It’s never something we do on our own—we are joined with God in Christ by the Spirit, and we share in his grief, his suffering, his mourning over loss, sin, evil, pain and injustice.
Just as Jesus obeyed God’s call through John the Baptizer by being baptized on behalf of all humanity for the remission of sins, so also did he obey the will of the Spirit who led, or drove, him out into the wilderness where he fasted for 40 days. In the midst of Jesus’ penitence on our behalf, he came face to face with evil. And he did not look away.
He did not give up his penitence to stifle the hunger in his stomach. The devil was right that Jesus could have made the stones into bread, but Jesus never used his divinity to serve himself. He only used it to serve others and to serve us.
Jesus did not give up his penitence, his identifying himself with us in our humanity and sinfulness, even to prove his identity as the Son of God. Nor did he pursue his own shortcut to glory by submitting to evil and turning his back on humanity. He chose the path of humility and humanity, of being the Servant Messiah even when it meant he would be treated like a common criminal, rejected, crucified and murdered by those he came to rescue.
Jesus went all the way with us and for us. And as the perfect reflection of God, he demonstrated to the core of his being that God is for us and against evil in any shape and form. If God in Jesus was willing to choose to do this so that we could be and would be free from the clutches of evil, how can we do any less ourselves?
Significantly, after Jesus’ triumphant entrance into Jerusalem to the adoring cries of “Hosanna”, one of the first things he did was to weep over the city who refused to repent and receive the Messiah God had sent them. He grieved over the pain, the suffering, and the evil. He mourned.
Even though we can have great joy that God in Christ has once and for all triumphed over evil, we also are privileged to suffer and grieve with God over, and in the midst of, the pain, injustice and evil of this broken world. God has given us eternal hope in Jesus and we can, in the midst of all that breaks our heart, point suffering and grieving people to the One who suffers and grieves with them and for them. We can, in Christ, participate in God’s work to relieve the suffering and right the injustices in the world. In the perichoretic life and love of Father, Son and Spirit, there is room for the depths of grief and suffering, the struggle against evil and injustice, just as there is room for the fullness of joy everlasting. For this we live in gratitude.
Lord, we are grateful for your grace, for the reality that we are never alone in our grief and sorrow. You grant us the privilege of participating in your suffering just as you, Jesus, took on our humanity with all its weakness, suffering and brokenness. Grant us the grace to cease our efforts to kill the pain, and to begin to just walk in the midst of it with you, allowing you to redeem all that is evil, hurtful and unjust, and to cause it to serve your purposes rather than the purposes of the evil one. For you, God, will and do have the last word in all these things, and we trust you to love us and do what is best for us no matter what. Gratefully, in your precious name, Jesus, we pray. Amen.
“For his Spirit joins with our spirit to affirm that we are God’s children. And since we are his children, we are his heirs. In fact, together with Christ we are heirs of God’s glory. But if we are to share his glory, we must also share his suffering. Yet what we suffer now is nothing compared to the glory he will reveal to us later.” Romans 8:16–18 NLT