Advice

JONI

The fellowship of suffering

It’s no use trying to fake it with the staff at Joni and Friends. They’ve seen me at my best, but also my worst.

There have been mornings when I’ve headed down the freeway to work fighting ‘the blues’ every mile of the way. Sometimes it’s a headache caused by my corset sticking in my side. Other times, it’s the weariness of simply waking up and going through the same old routine of having someone dress me and sit me up in my wheelchair.

There have honestly been days when I’ve pulled my van over to the side a mile away from the office just so I could pray to clear the cloud of discouragement. Once in a while I’ve parked in the handicap space at our office lot, turned off the engine, and simply ... waited. I have wheeled lickety-split through the courtyard, zipped past our receptionist, and made a bee-line for my office door, hoping no one would greet me with a smile and a “Good morning! How are you doing today?!”

My friends – mostly Francie, my secretary and Judy, my administrative assistant – know something’s wrong when they see my office door closed. After a minute or two, I hear a gentle knock. They know that after 34 years of quadriplegia – hey, I’m bound to have a few bad days.

Sometimes Francie will simply press a tissue against my eyes and stand quietly beside me. Perhaps Judy will let me lean my head on her chest while she rubs the pain away in my neck. Whatever, it helps. My friends then open up, divulging their emotional shortcomings. We share a few problems, softly sing a hymn together, and after a few sniffles and one more wipe of the tissue, I begin to brighten.

“Onward and upward,” Judy will say with a pat on my back. When my office door swings open, I breathe a sigh of peace and relief. I am a part of the fellowship of suffering. And it feels good.

Isn’t it grand to share the struggles and tears, the consolation and the comfort, even the smiles when we are embraced by others in the fellowship of suffering? It’s a wonderful, inexplicable participation in the life and power of Jesus when we enter that camaraderie of sharing in his afflictions.

I’m not talking about persecution here; I’m thinking of the everyday battering and bruising we face as humans. When we suffer – no matter how small or great – we are never meant to suffer alone. That’s why there’s koinonia. We sense the comfort of Christ’s presence, the nearness of his help and solace – all through the loving touch of others who understand our hurt. We are changed as we share burdens and help each other carry crosses.

It is at this point, however, that we need to understand a big difference between our suffering and the suffering our Lord went through. For Jesus, there was no fellowship in suffering.

For Jesus, there was only the wooden insensitivity of his disciples, from the first day right up to Calvary. For him, there was only that awful climax of isolation on the cross, even to the point of being forsaken by the Father and abandoned to God’s blazing wrath. There was no real joy in his cross as there can be in ours. Hebrews 12:2 tells us that: “For the joy set before him he endured the cross.” In other words, Jesus focused on that which was beyond those ghastly hours – he focused on his future back in heaven and on the salvation of millions through history who would trust him.

For us, we can have joy in our affliction. We can experience comfort when we suffer. We don’t have to be alone when we’re in pain. For Jesus, it was a different story. Far different.

You don’t have to be alone in your hurt. Comfort is yours. Joy is an option. And it’s all been made possible by your Saviour. He went without comfort so that you might have it. He postponed joy so that you might share in it. He willingly chose isolation so that you might never be alone in your hurt and sorrow. He had no real fellowship so that fellowship might be yours, this moment.

Take heart in this: you will never experience isolation or abandonment or the dread of being forsaken as did your Lord. You’ve got fellowship – as close as a church away.

And you have it because he didn’t.

Joni Eareckson Tada is an internationally acclaimed author, singer and artist. Paralysed for over 35 years, she serves as an advocate for disabled people worldwide. Her UK organisation is Through The Roof (CH), P O Box 353, Epsom KT18 5WS; phone 01372 749955

© Christian Family Network
is run by CPO, supported by
Care for the Family, Marriage Resource, Positive Parenting,
Care, Women Alive, Christian Herald and many others.


		JONI The fellowship of suffering It’s no use trying to fake it with the staff at Joni and Friends. They’ve seen me at my best, but also my worst. There have been mornings when I’ve headed down the freeway to work fighting ‘the blues’ every mile of the way. Sometimes it’s a headache caused by my corset sticking in my side. Other times, it’s the weariness of simply waking up and going through the same old routine of having someone dress me and sit me up in my wheelchair. There have honestly been days when I’ve pulled my van over to the side a mile away from the office just so I could pray to clear the cloud of discouragement. Once in a while I’ve parked in the handicap space at our office lot, turned off the engine, and simply ... waited. I have wheeled lickety-split through the courtyard, zipped past our receptionist, and made a bee-line for my office door, hoping no one would greet me with a smile and a “Good morning! How are you doing today?!” My friends – mostly Francie, my secretary and Judy, my administrative assistant – know something’s wrong when they see my office door closed. After a minute or two, I hear a gentle knock. They know that after 34 years of quadriplegia – hey, I’m bound to have a few bad days. Sometimes Francie will simply press a tissue against my eyes and stand quietly beside me. Perhaps Judy will let me lean my head on her chest while she rubs the pain away in my neck. Whatever, it helps. My friends then open up, divulging their emotional shortcomings. We share a few problems, softly sing a hymn together, and after a few sniffles and one more wipe of the tissue, I begin to brighten. “Onward and upward,” Judy will say with a pat on my back. When my office door swings open, I breathe a sigh of peace and relief. I am a part of the fellowship of suffering. And it feels good. Isn’t it grand to share the struggles and tears, the consolation and the comfort, even the smiles when we are embraced by others in the fellowship of suffering? It’s a wonderful, inexplicable participation in the life and power of Jesus when we enter that camaraderie of sharing in his afflictions. I’m not talking about persecution here; I’m thinking of the everyday battering and bruising we face as humans. When we suffer – no matter how small or great – we are never meant to suffer alone. That’s why there’s koinonia. We sense the comfort of Christ’s presence, the nearness of his help and solace – all through the loving touch of others who understand our hurt. We are changed as we share burdens and help each other carry crosses. It is at this point, however, that we need to understand a big difference between our suffering and the suffering our Lord went through. For Jesus, there was no fellowship in suffering. For Jesus, there was only the wooden insensitivity of his disciples, from the first day right up to Calvary. For him, there was only that awful climax of isolation on the cross, even to the point of being forsaken by the Father and abandoned to God’s blazing wrath. There was no real joy in his cross as there can be in ours. Hebrews 12:2 tells us that: “For the joy set before him he endured the cross.” In other words, Jesus focused on that which was beyond those ghastly hours – he focused on his future back in heaven and on the salvation of millions through history who would trust him. For us, we can have joy in our affliction. We can experience comfort when we suffer. We don’t have to be alone when we’re in pain. For Jesus, it was a different story. Far different. You don’t have to be alone in your hurt. Comfort is yours. Joy is an option. And it’s all been made possible by your Saviour. He went without comfort so that you might have it. He postponed joy so that you might share in it. He willingly chose isolation so that you might never be alone in your hurt and sorrow. He had no real fellowship so that fellowship might be yours, this moment. Take heart in this: you will never experience isolation or abandonment or the dread of being forsaken as did your Lord. You’ve got fellowship – as close as a church away. And you have it because he didn’t. Joni Eareckson Tada is an internationally acclaimed author, singer and artist. Paralysed for over 35 years, she serves as an advocate for disabled people worldwide. Her UK organisation is Through The Roof (CH), P O Box 353, Epsom KT18 5WS; phone 01372 749955 © Christian Family Network is run by CPO, supported by Care for the Family, Marriage Resource, Positive Parenting, Care, Women Alive, Christian Herald and many others.