It is easy to think that God is against you sometimes, is it not? You get into a car accident, you have a relationship end, or you get a devastating prognosis from a doctor. It just does not seem fair! God could have done something about it . . . Why would He let this happen to me? How quickly do we settle into the thought that God just does not like us? He is angry with us . . . He is a mean kid with a magnifying glass burning us like ants on a pavement.
Paul addresses this issue in his letter to the Romans . . . a group of people who were facing far more dire circumstances than we could ever imagine.
“The Spirit Himself testifies together with our spirit that we are God’s children, and if children, also heirs—heirs of God and coheirs with Christ—seeing that we suffer with Him so that we may also be glorified with Him.” (Romans 8:16-17)
Did Paul say, “suffer”? Are we really supposed to suffer with Christ? Paul uses the Greek word “pascho” which indicates a period of suffering, and not just an episode. Many theologians refer to the death of Jesus as the “pascho” (or passion) of the Christ. I love the fact that Paul encourages the Roman church as they embark on this period of suffering by assuring them that this is not an aberration—it is normal, and it is a joy to share in the “fellowship of Christ’s suffering” (Philippians 3:10).
Into this suffering that we will share, Paul writes the beautiful assurance . . .
“We know that all things work together for the good of those who love God: those who are called according to His purpose.” (Romans 8:28)
So what does all this mean to us during this Christmas season? Where is the hope of Christmas in the thought of suffering?
I believe it is in the joy of the assurance that God is for us, and nothing reveals the heart of God for His most precious creation that the birth of its Redeemer . . . the One sent to redeem us from the curse of our sin.
So Paul asks the rhetorical question . . .
“What then are we to say about these things?” (Romans 8:31)
Though the Greek is rather vague as to what Paul is referring, I think we can assume that he is speaking of this idea of suffering . . . that which is working for our good and is not even worth comparing to the glory that is to come. Is Paul questioning those who would naturally conclude that God is out to get them? Has he overheard their murmuring? Not that we would ever do that, right?
Listen to Paul’s argument . . .
“If God is for us, who is against us? He did not even spare His own Son but offered Him up for us all; how will He not also with Him grant us everything?” (Romans 8:31-32)
Paul has already argued that our time of suffering is working together to produce something beneficial in us (an argument that is easier spoken than heard), and now he drops a statement that demands to be supported. Paul implies that God is certainly “for us” . . . a notion that so often seems to be false in the face of our suffering. How can we know that God is for us? And to what degree can we claim that God is for us? To back up this claim, Paul uses a powerful collection of words and images from the Scriptures . . .
“He did not even spare His own Son . . .”
While the use of the word “even” conveys an extreme action, the power of this statement lies deep in the souls of the hearers. This language would have resonated in the hearts and minds of the Jewish believers in the Roman church. They knew the story of Abraham, who when commanded by God to sacrifice his son, Isaac, did not hesitate to act with profound faith and was commended by God . . .
“For now I know that you fear God, since you have not withheld you only son from Me.” (Genesis 22:12)
But the phrase continues beyond this awe-inspiring thought . . .
“. . . but He offered Him up for us all.”
Do you see the evidence of a God who is “for us”? The advent of Christ that we celebrate at Christmas is not merely the birth of Christ, but the full nature of His advent which will be His death and resurrection . . . all designed for your salvation and mine. It is this language that Paul used to resonate with the members of the church who had heard the apostles tell the story of the night a man named Nicodemus, a Pharisee, came to Jesus late one night. Jesus told the man . . .
“For God loved the world in this way: He gave His one and only Son . . . that the world might be saved through Him.” (John 3:16-17)
For those unconvinced by Paul’s first argument, and are still hanging on to the notion that God is doling out His wrath, Paul asks another rhetorical question . . .
“Who can bring an accusation against God’s elect? God is the One who justifies. Who is the one who condemns?” (Romans 8:33-34)
To visualize Paul’s question, you need to picture a courtroom . . . you are the defendant, God, along with Jesus, sits in the place of the judge, and the prosecuting attorney is the person in question. The Romans would be familiar with this scene because in the middle of their city would be what is called the “judgment seat” (the most prominent of these being in Corinth, which was the probable location from which Paul is writing this letter). The prosecutor would approach the judgment seat and lodge a formal accusation against the defendant and would ask the judge for a summary judgment . . . no jury, just a judge’s decision.
Watch how this works in Paul’s courtroom . . .
The prosecutor approaches the bench and accuses you of gossip, lust, anger, and on and on he can go, right? It is OK . . . just take the hit. Jesus stands up at your defense and tells God that the fine for these offenses has already been paid. When? Where? All these and any future offenses were paid for at Calvary! And the prosecutor is silenced . . . victorious, but ineffectual in his accusations.
It was Simeon in the Temple just eight days after Jesus was born in the stable that declared . . .
“For my eyes have seen Your salvation!” (Luke 2:30)
To this Paul declares . . .
“Christ Jesus is the One who died, but even more, has been raised; He also is at the right hand of God and intercedes for us.” (Romans 8:34)
The prosecuting attorney was going for the death sentence . . . and the death sentence he justly received. The beauty of God’s inclination toward us is that it was His Son, Jesus Christ that took up our sentence. My condemnation was snatched away from me by the grace and love of my Heavenly Father and was placed on His obedient Son.
But that was certainly not the end of that story . . . it was this Jesus who was gloriously raised by the power of God. Not something you see everyday . . .
Furthermore, Jesus was received to the right hand of God and at this very moment, Paul claims that Jesus, the One who suffered for our sins, is at this moment “interceding” . . . for us. The Greek word is far bigger than just “praying”. It is the word “entugchano” and it means that Jesus is pleading with us and leading us into the place of perfection . . . not willing for us to miss the mark.
How can you possibly conclude that God is not for you?
Paul’s third question is the one most familiar to students of the Bible . . .
“Who can separate us from the love of Christ? Can affliction or anguish or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword?” (Romans 8:35)
Before you go too far with this verse, you need to put it into its context. This is a letter to a church in Rome. How would you describe the dynamics of Rome and its gods? How do the gods like Jupiter and Mars behave? What happens when they get angry, or when they are “against you”? What happens when they are “for you”? Do you see the underlying context of the point Paul is going to make?
Paul’s point is that God is never going to turn on you—He is not temperamental or moody. God is eternally inclined “for you” and though it may seem at times as though God is nowhere to be found, you can be assured that your afflictions will be eclipsed by glory, that all this is working for your good, and that the God who gave His own Son is not going anywhere! His love, unlike the temperamental gods of the Roman culture, is unimpeachable, inexhaustible, and indefatigable . . . and it is directed to you.
So Paul asks if life can separate us from the love of Christ? He asks about affliction, anguish, and distress. Each of these Greek words (thlipsis, stenochoria, and diogmos) implies some form of persecution or pressure being brought to bear on a believer. The question is passive because it is asking if these stresses indicate that God’s love has been separated from the believer. Paul goes on to list a set of severe life stresses: hunger, nakedness, peril, and sword. What kind of God would allow His beloved ones to suffer in this way? Surely God is angry with them, right? He has turned on them . . .
Paul turns what may become the seed of doubt into a banner of victory . . .
“No! In all these things we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us.” (Romans 8:37)
Paul’s assertion, one that will become invaluable for the Roman church in the coming years, is that affliction is not evidence for God’s separation. Instead, it is an opportunity for the believer to demonstrate the power of God’s presence . . . what did Jesus tell His disciples to do when they are dragged in front of kings and governors? Panic? Bemoan the fact that God has abandoned them? NO! They were to rely on the Spirit—the very Breath of God—to guide their words. The same will go for times of anguish and distress. Our moments of deprivation and loss are not due to the neglect of our God, instead, they are moments in which we not only conquer, but we literally “hyper-conquer” . . . very much like Paul will write to the Philippians . . .
“I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” (Philippians 4:13)
So Paul concludes . . .
“For I am persuaded that not even death or life, angels or rulers, things present or things to come, hostile powers, height or depth, or any other created thing will have the power to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord!” (Romans 8:38-39)
I wish the interpreters of the initial phrase of this passage had been stricter in their translation of this passage because the Greek for “I am persuaded” is not a present active verb—meaning that Paul did something. The Greek reveals the verb Paul uses is actually a perfect passive verb—meaning that something has perpetually been done to Paul. His persuasion was not an act of his reason and intellect alone. Paul is stating that he was persuaded by an outside force and that force did not merely act in the past, nor is it acting only in the present, but that this persuasion to which Paul is being acted upon has perfectly and completely and timelessly altered his understanding. Is that not a better translation?
But to what has Paul been perfectly persuaded?
It is the message of Christmas . . .
God loves us and nothing will ever be able to change it.
God is eternally “for you”.
And the greatest act of love the world will ever know is the story of Christmas when the love of God “became flesh and dwelt among us” . . . when “unto us a Child was born” who will be called the “Prince of Peace” . . .
For that is what His unstoppable love has done for us . . . it has given us peace with God.
Merry Christmas!
