Romans 5

Sometimes we hear people ask, “What’s your greatest fear?” Answers typically include such things as spiders, speaking in public, flying in a plane, or maybe…horses. I’ve asked myself that question. And I’m not exactly sure what the answer would be, except to say that it would probably involve torture. After reading stuff like human rights reports from Amnesty International, as well as using my own imagination, it might be safe to say that my greatest fear is torture.

But I don’t know which would be worse: physical or psychological torture. Would I rather endure beatings, electrical shocks, and other treatment too hideous to describe, or would I prefer sleep or sensory deprivation, or other vicious mind games, all designed to drive me insane? Not a very good choice!

I’ll admit it; I don’t like suffering! (I don’t think I’m alone on that point!) But I also have to admit that suffering isn’t something with which I’ve had a great deal of experience. Someone who certainly knows about suffering is the apostle Paul, but he doesn’t show the same cowardice that I do about it! In fact, in our epistle reading from Romans 5, he makes some startling claims about suffering. I won’t go too much into that just yet, but he seems to say that suffering is necessary!

This shouldn’t surprise us, though, if we remember in 2 Corinthians 12 how he talks about being given “a thorn in the flesh” (v. 7). Paul doesn’t ever really say what he means by that; he hints that it’s “a messenger of Satan to torment [him so that he won’t be] too elated” by the revelations he’s received from God. There’ve been all kinds of guesses, as you might imagine. Some point to Paul’s confessed difficulty with public speaking (2 Co 10:1, 11:6). Others speculate about some sin that he struggles with. But it could be something completely different!

Whatever the “thorn in the flesh” is, Paul says that on three separate occasions, he begged the Lord to take it away. The answer he got was this: “My grace is all you need; power is most fully seen in weakness” (v. 9, REB). Paul learns where his strength really resides. The point is not what he can do for God, but will he do what’s necessary to allow God to work through him? The same is true for us. It’s in that sense that suffering can be a source of strength. It’s like a bitter medicine—at the time, it’s dreadful, but it can (I stress “can”) lead to healing.

As we return to our epistle reading, we see that the apostle does a lot of boasting on behalf of the Roman church. In verse 2, he says that “we boast in our hope.” Our hope? Our hope of what? “Our hope of sharing the glory of God.” Usually when people boast, it’s because they’ve done something great—or maybe they just think they’re great! But isn’t that what makes boasting fun? On the topic of thinking we’re better than others… [Mention story in Washington Post about alpha, beta, and gamma girls]

Well, what Paul’s boasting about has nothing to do with him or his Roman friends! The same thing’s true about the end of the passage in verse 11. There he says that “we even boast in God through our Lord Jesus Christ.” And why is that? Well, it’s because in him “we have now received reconciliation.” Again, no accomplishment on Paul’s part! He seems determined to drive the point home: the best part of bragging isn’t in focusing attention on oneself.

Still, it’s his second example of boasting, the one in verse 3, that really gets my attention. He says, “we also boast in our sufferings.” What’s up with that? It reminds me of times when I’ve heard people trying to outdo each other’s tales of woe. I’m thinking of something like this:

“So what? At least you had galoshes; we had to walk ten miles to school in the snow—in our sneakers!”

“Quit your crying! At least you had shoes; we had to walk fifteen miles to school in the snow in our bare feet!”

Paul’s point is a little more serious! And he really doesn’t intend for us, in a kind of anti-bragging, to see who’s had the most misfortune! He makes his point by tracing a chain reaction from the second half of verse 3, and ending in verse 5. He takes us on the seemingly improbable journey from suffering to hope. And in case you’re wondering, my use of the word “improbable” explains the reason I have a question mark at the end of my sermon title.

The apostle doesn’t make the jump all at once. He explains why he says we boast in our sufferings; it’s because we know “that suffering produces endurance” (v. 3). Well, it’s good if suffering does produce that! When suffering comes our way, something good needs to come from it! Actually, the Greek word Paul uses (upomonh, hupomonē) “means more than endurance.” Scottish writer William Barclay says, “It means the spirit which can overcome the world; it means the spirit which does not passively endure but which actively overcomes the trials and tribulations of life.”[1]

As an example, Barclay tells the story of Beethoven, who realized that he was going deaf. That’s a shocking discovery for anyone, especially for a musician! But Beethoven’s reply was, “I will take life by the throat.” Barclay concludes, I think rather simply, “That is hupomonē.”[2] Yeah, right! I’ll say that’s hupomonē! I can think of some other ways to describe that kind of attitude in Beethoven! See me later for those…

Still, endurance isn’t enough. Paul links it to character. And the word he uses for “character” (dokimh, dokimē) also describes “metal which has been passed through the fire so that everything base has been purged out of it.”[3] Is there any doubt among us that there are some things in life that we can only learn by experiencing them? By enduring them?

Paul forges the final link in the chain by joining character with hope. Suffering leads to endurance, which leads to character, which leads to hope. And hope isn’t some pleasant daydream; this “hope does not disappoint us” (v. 5). The REB says, “Such hope is no fantasy.” The reason is that this hope is from the Holy Spirit, the gift of God’s love.

The hope that comes from suffering isn’t something we struggle to concoct. We don’t conjure it up into existence. I hope not—because, like I said, I don’t like suffering! And I think I’m very safe in saying that Jesus doesn’t like suffering either! But he has accepted it; he has accepted torture; he has accepted death—and as the apostle says, he has done it for us.

If Paul’s linking of suffering and hope is startling, the second half of our reading has even more surprises. Just in case we didn’t get the message about not boasting about ourselves, Paul makes sure that he yanks the rug out from under any other…pretensions we might have.

When has Christ died for us? When has God acted on our behalf? “[W]hile we were still weak”…”while we were still sinners”…”while we were enemies” of God (vv. 6, 8, 10). This is the very definition of mercy—the very definition of grace. There’s no waiting for us to stop the insanity; there’s no waiting for us to just…wake up. God is already active, already meeting us so much more than halfway.

During today’s Lenten Luncheon, we’ll probably hear from our guest that the word “Islam” means “peaceful submission” to God. Peaceful submission. Muslims are those who have made such submission to God. Well, guess what? We’re called to do the same thing. Even though we don’t often use the terminology of “submission” in Christian circles, the meaning is present. Some of us may feel about that word the way I do about the other “s”-word (suffering), which I’ve already mentioned. If we make God our boast, we are submitting to God. That’s a good theme for Lent.

To sum up, Paul isn’t glorifying suffering. In fact, as he says in several places, he would have his readers alleviate each other’s suffering. “Bear one another’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ” (Ga 6:2). His focus isn’t on suffering, but rather on hope. The Christian hope isn’t like the hope the world offers—it’s a hope that doesn’t disappoint, a hope that is no mirage in the desert. It is the strength of that hope that enables Paul—indeed, all who rely on Christ—to be confident in the face of suffering.

[1] William Barclay, The Letter to the Romans, rev. ed. (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1975), 73.

[2] Barclay, 73-74.

[3] Barclay, 74.