I went for a walk along the banks of a small river on New Year’s Eve Day. It was snowing, and the forest was absolutely beautiful. It brought new life to my soul, and everywhere the path turned I found new inspiration and wonder. I returned to the same place a couple weeks later, on a bitterly cold, grey day, and it was dull, predictable and covered in treacherous ice. The snow was old, the way was rough, and I had to look harder for beautiful details. I didn’t stay very long.

On that initial walk, I lingered long, and resolved to come back on a daily basis. But reality set in: the early setting sun restricted my time, the bitter cold and icy paths made a long walk less inviting, and the fact of the matter is that I only visited that place twice this winter.

Today I’m thinking about resolutions and how we so eagerly begin things, and how quickly reality dampens our brightest hopes and reminds us that it’s cold and dreary February, and springtime is a long way off. There comes a time in winter when hibernation seems like the most sensible coping mechanism; but, unfortunately, that isn’t an option, and life must go on.

Why do we do new things?

It’s worthwhile to concentrate our energy and focus; it’s good to have goals and see them accomplished; it’s encouraging to have a fresh start and a blank page. New things are good, but new things cannot always remain new. What do we do with them once they have lost their newness and we are left with yet another thing to do?

Proverbs 24:16 says that a righteous man may fall seven times and yet rise again; is this merely a matter of dogged perseverance? Partially, some people are gifted with a natural tenacity and stubbornness, while others must simply resolve to keep going. Sometimes we give more weight to the feeling of the experience than the doing of it (a lovely, snowy path versus a treacherous, icy path, for example). But I think this matter goes deeper than a person’s willingness to bite the proverbial bullet and just do the thing.

Sustainability is something I’ve been seeking to cultivate in my own life in the past few years. This means I cannot commit to every new idea or opportunity that comes my way. Theoretically, I acknowledge that I cannot do everything, but only over the process of time am I learning to live my life in a way that includes fewer shocking changes and more thoughtful and faithful continuances. That’s what I like about the righteous man in Proverbs 24. He continues. He goes forward. He finds the path again. He keeps going.

As I seek wisdom in choosing a sustainable way of life, the idea of Sabbath continues to arise. Rest and margin in my life are necessary if I’m going to “run with endurance the race set before me.” This involves laying aside unnecessary burdens (a cause for consideration) and looking unto Jesus (let’s not miss the Person we’re running toward). [See Hebrews 12:1-2] The thing I love about Sabbath is that it’s not about getting every last bit of work done and then allowing oneself to rest. It’s inserting rest into the rhythms of our lives and regularly looking back to acknowledge what has been done, and that God is still good.

It can be a burden to see no end in sight of our responsibilities and resolutions; maybe not at first while the snow is still falling, but surely once the path is covered in ice and progress is slow, we begin to wonder if it’s really worth it. So, here are some things which help me insert a Sabbath mentality into my life and to sustainably keep going in the things that matter.

1. Appreciate what has been done.

Our globalized society is progressing so rapidly that it’s fairly common to feel left behind. There remains so much possibility ahead that we forget to pause and look back to appreciate how far we have come. This incorporates the Sabbath into our lives: the work will never be done, but we are set free to rejoice in life as it is. This applies to one another’s lives as well: I have found great joy in telling others that I notice and appreciate when they are doing something well. “Good job,” helps. So does, “Ta-da!”

2. Choose resolutions sustainably.

“Saying yes to one thing means saying no to many others, including the rest you may need,” some friends counseled me recently. It feels so good to have a long list of exciting new things; it feels less good when we find ourselves drowning in commitments we do not have the energy to keep. I believe saying yes is important and vital. We cannot always say no. Keeping an ongoing conversation in prayer with God about our present and potential commitments is a practice in both wisdom and humility. Once we’ve chosen to say yes, let’s ask Him for the grace to complete it well.

3. Be on the lookout for beauty and goodness.

In the midst of dreary February and settling routines, it’s more difficult to find the feeling of new inspiration. This is the time to put on our “goodness glasses” and begin looking for the goodness of the Lord all around us. For me, that means walks outside every day, looking for springtime, enjoying the sunshine when it appears, noticing the days growing a bit longer, keeping a fresh flower in my house at all times. They need not be expensive or extravagant things, but a bit of fresh goodness can bring beauty and inspiration into a normal routine. Open eyes are able to enjoy.

4. The routine is not our enemy.

While I am a massive fan of newness, I also get a bit anxious when life is in upheaval due to travel, change, holidays, etc. I have lately come to love and crave a consistent routine. With constant change comes constant decision making; I find exciting seasons to be fun but not sustainable long term, as my energies are used in the moment and not in long term progress. Boundaries on our time and schedules create healthy confines in which we can find stability and make daily progress in the right direction.

5. Peace and thankfulness.

The Bible exhorts us to “let the peace of God rule in our hearts, to which we were also called in one body, and be thankful” (Colossians 3:15). Letting God’s peace rule in my heart has practical implications in my life: taking a deep breath in between tasks, getting sufficient sleep and nutrition, recognizing my own limitations (a 12-hour workday is not sustainable on a regular basis for me), not multitasking, being present in the moment and situation where I find myself, caring about the person in front of me, etc. It’s accepting that a day’s work has been sufficiently done and trusting the Lord and going to sleep. It’s also the process of giving thanks: especially at the end of the day, when I find myself unsure if I have made any progress at all, I am helped by making a concrete list of what has been accomplished or begun or continued, and also what beauty I’ve noticed.

Life keeps moving forward, and so shall we. The social experiment known as New Year’s Resolutions has taught us, at the very least, that it is desirable to begin new things, yet difficult to sustain them. Now is a great season to reevaluate our commitments, look for the beauty in the normal routine and look unto Jesus as we keep on walking. It’s a good time of year to rejoice. It’s a good time of year to look back and see what God has already done and to take a deep breath and enjoy exactly where we are, and having done so, to go on.

Enjoy “A Letter to the Modern Church” by Pilgrim Benham in this series on the seven churches in Revelation.

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The theologian Michael Stipe (the lead singer of R.E.M.) said it best, “Everybody Hurts.” Let’s just face it: Life is full of heartache. In my short life, I’ve seen a lot of pain and suffering: A member of my family was sexually, physically and emotionally abused as a child and teen. My little sister, born with a cleft pallet in her lip, blind and deaf, with extra fingers and toes and lots of physical deformities, only lived six short months before going to be with Jesus. My other sister lost her full academic scholarship at a prestigious arts school because of a simple mistake on the tuition scholarship paperwork. A family member forgot who people were with the symptoms of dementia and eventually passed away. Our son was born premature three weeks early from a placental abruption and my wife was mere seconds from hemorrhaging to death. Just in the last five years, our family has been the victim of a hit and run; another time we hydroplaned and crashed our car on a wet bridge over a river on the interstate; and just recently, we’ve had financial setbacks that have caused our family to have to seek the Lord and wonder how we are going to pay some bills.

Think about the tragedy in your own life: People who have let you down, friends who you thought were friends who stabbed you in the back, that promotion you deserved was given to someone else, the car that died on the freeway and left you stranded, your bank account that was literally down to dollars, and you didn’t know what you would eat next or losing that loved one tragically before you felt it was their time to go.

As you read this and nod your head, let me encourage you that you’re among friends. Life is full of suffering. In fact, suffering is inevitable.

One person said:

“Christians, of course, use spiritual language to minimize suffering constantly, even their own. The need to exonerate God in the midst of tragedy–even to shove Bible verses in a person’s face can be just as harmful as saying something actively discouraging, as if God were small enough to be invalidated by our individual suffering.”

What should our reaction be to pain and difficulty? We learn much by looking at the church of Smyrna, spoken to by Jesus in Revelation 2:8-11. In this section of Scripture, Jesus is speaking to John the Apostle, who has been exiled on the island of Patmos. Jesus has come to reveal Himself–literally to unveil Himself–thus the book is called not “Revelations” but “Revelation” for it is one singular revelation of the person and work of Jesus over and in His creation. Jesus has a message for seven distinct churches in Asia Minor. These were literal churches with a congregation and pastors, and so Jesus has a word for them. But this is also applicable to all churches, to every church and even to us today almost 2,000 years later. For each of the churches that Jesus addresses, we see He seems to emphasize a City, a Characteristic of Christ, a Commendation, a Criticism, a Correction and a Crown.

The City of Smyrna

The city of Smyrna was located around 35 miles north of Ephesus and was established by Alexander the Great. Of the seven cities Jesus addresses, Smyrna was considered by far to be the most beautiful. It was known as “the glory of Asia” and was a very beautiful and important city in the Roman empire, thought by many to be the birthplace of Homer, where a temple was erected in his honor.

What is interesting is that “Smyrna” is the Greek word for “myrrh” which means “bitter.” Myrrh is a small fruit just larger than a pea, and it’s known for the fragrance it gives off when it is crushed. Myrrh was one of the three gifts that the Magi brought to baby Jesus, along with gold and frankincense.

Now at first glance, myrrh would have seemed a little random as a present at a baby shower. Gold would be the appropriate gift for the Messiah King, a gift appropriate for royalty. Incense as well: a wick that would be lit and would give off fragrant smoke in the presence of the king–a picture of the priesthood. But myrrh might have seemed a little random. Myrrh was one of the ingredients used in the anointing oil that the priests used in the temples. It may have seemed completely pointless as a gift for Jesus, but under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, the Magi gave the myrrh as a symbolic gift, a gift that really was appropriate for Jesus: being crushed and giving off an aroma that would be pleasing to the world.

How significant! Smyrna was where these believers were feeling the pressure, the squeeze of persecution all around. Many of them would be crushed, but Jesus assures them that their sacrifice is a fragrant offering to Him.

The Characteristic of Christ

“And to the angel of the church in Smyrna write, ‘These things says the First and the Last, who was dead, and came to life.”

Here, Jesus chooses to describe Himself as “The First and the Last,” a reference to chapter one where He called Himself the Alpha and the Omega. The Alpha is the first letter in the Greek alphabet, and the Omega is the last letter. In English, you could hear Jesus saying, “I am the A, and I am the Z.”

Now I’m not a cyclist, but I have been cycling quite a few times and always seemed to regret it! When cycling in a group, you need a strong front rider who can see what is up ahead and warn those behind of the coming rocks and bumps and hazards in the road, set the pace and take the brunt of the wind resistance. But, the person in the “caboose” position also needs to be an experienced rider, who can speak encouragement to those getting weary and help them stay in the race. In like manner, Jesus is ahead of us saying, “I’ve been through suffering and death, and I’ll lead you along the way,” but He’s also behind us saying, “You can do it; don’t give up!”

Not only is He the First and the Last, but He also identifies Himself as the One, “who was dead and came to life.” What an encouragement for people facing persecution, suffering, pain and even martyrdom! To know that Jesus died and came to life again gives us incredible comfort when we face pain in life.

Smyrna had been a Greek colony as far back as 1,000 B.C. Around 600 B.C. it was invaded and destroyed by the Lydeans, and for 400 years there was no city there at all. Just ruins. Then around 200 B.C. Lysimachus had it rebuilt as a planned and unified city. It was built with streets that were broad, straight, sweeping and beautifully paved. The city had experienced death and had literally been brought back to life.

The Commendation & Criticism

Jesus’s commendation is significant because He has no criticism!!! Verse nine says:

“I know your works, tribulation, and poverty (but you are rich); and I know the blasphemy of those who say they are Jews and are not, but are a synagogue of Satan.”

Jesus said He knew four things about them:

1. Jesus knows their performance.

“I know your works:” That is the same phrase Jesus used when speaking to the church of Ephesus. The church in Smyrna likewise was working as unto the Lord, and Jesus recognized their ministry.

Some of us from time to time may wonder if the Lord knows our works. Some of us have been serving Him for decades, and we don’t want the recognition from man or from the church; but we just wonder, “Does the Lord see or know or care what I’m doing for His kingdom?”

I love this encouragement from Hebrews 6:10:

“For God is not unjust so as to overlook your work and the love that you have shown for his name in serving the saints, as you still do.”

God sees. God knows. God won’t overlook it.

2. Jesus knows their pain.

The Greek word can be translated: tribulation, affliction, trouble, anguish, persecution, burdens. I would add the word pain. Jesus is saying, “I know you look afflicted and poor, but I consider you rich!”

Why does it seem to take suffering to remind us that God is sovereign and will work everything out for our good and His glory?

Business leader Allan Emery tells of accompanying his friend and mentor to visit a hospitalized employee. The patient lay very still, his eyes conveying anguish. His operation had taken eight hours, and recovery would be long and uncertain.

“Alex,” said Ken quietly, “You know I have had a number of serious operations. I know the pain of trying to talk. I think I know the questions you are asking. There are two verses I want to give you—Genesis 42:36 (“All these things are against me”) and Romans 8:28 (“All things work together for good to those who love God”). We have the option of these two attitudes. We need the perspective of the latter.”

David Jeremiah adds, “The choice is this: to be beat up or to be upbeat. The perspective you choose will color your life completely and thoroughly—will it be gentle tones of grace and providence, or harsh slashes of despair and emptiness?

We need to have a Biblical view of suffering. Just consider myrrh, of which the city of Smyrna was named after. When you anoint something, you put something over it. You anoint someone with oil, it means you put oil over them, on them, and it runs down their forehead and covers them. When the myrrh fruit was crushed, it gave off an aroma and was also used to anoint the priests. Think about that: The same oil that was once bruised and crushed ended up becoming something that qualified a man to stand in the gap for sinners and intercede for them. If you have suffered, you are now someone who can use that pain as a way to minister to others. What an appropriate gift for Jesus by the Magi: gold (for a king), frankincense (for a burial) and myrrh (to anoint a priest). We are most effective after we have been greatly bruised and broken–and an aroma that is pleasing to the Lord rises from our suffering.”

3. Jesus knows their poverty.

In fact, Jesus states that they are actually rich. The word for poverty means abject or absolute poverty. They had absolutely nothing. That was because of the persecution they were facing. Jesus is not unaware of our helpless state, both spiritually and otherwise.

4. Jesus knows their persecution.

“And I know the blasphemy of those who say they are Jews and are not, but are a synagogue of Satan.”

The Jews in Smyrna were particularly against Christianity. Remember, at this time, Christianity was considered a sect of Judaism. The Jews knew the Christ-followers were different, but to the Roman empire, there wasn’t a lot to distinguish Jew from Christian. Eventually, that changed. Rome considered Judaism to be an ancient religion, whereas when Christianity was eventually distinguished from it, the Roman empire looked with disdain on this new religion. It definitely didn’t help that Christians replaced the buzzphrase of Caesar worship, “Caesar is LORD” with “Jesus is LORD.” Needless to say, it’s doubtful you’re going to make a lot of friends when you are abandoning the mandated worship of the state.

Jesus is saying that when you are facing slander and trouble from people, don’t forget who is really your adversary. It’s not the person in front of you, it’s Satan!

Paul reminds us in Ephesians 6:12 that, “Our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.”

You’re not fighting against your coworkers, your professors, your in-laws, your clients, that one antagonist guy in the office, the people slandering you on their blog, or through that email they sent you—your struggle isn’t against flesh and blood! It’s against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms!

The Correction

“Do not fear any of those things which you are about to suffer. Indeed, the devil is about to throw some of you into prison, that you may be tested, and you will have tribulation 10 days. Be faithful until death, and I will give you the crown of life. ‘He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches. He who overcomes shall not be hurt by the second death.”’

Jesus’ correction for them is to not fear. They were about to have 10 days of tribulation, including prison. This could have literally been 10 days, or as some have said there were 10 Caesars that violently persecuted Christians during this time, and it may refer to them. Either way, what is most important is that their suffering would be temporal. This promise would encourage them that there was an end in sight to their suffering.

It wasn’t some fairy-tale Christian-produced movie where everything works out perfectly and is neatly wrapped up before the credits. Jesus isn’t sugar coating hardship. He’s telling them it is about to get worse, a lot worse, even resulting in death. Notice there is no promise of an end to the suffering, only a reward for suffering.

The Christians had a choice, to compromise or be faithful. You see, Caesar worship was required by Rome. If you worshiped Caesar, you would be allowed to go to a hearing where they would grant you a certificate and say, “Caesar is my God,” and they wouldn’t touch you from that point on. If you didn’t have a certificate, they could question you and certainly if you said, “I don’t bow to Caesar; I bow to Jesus Christ,” that would be a threat to Pax Romana, the peace that Rome kept with a sword, and you would be at risk for execution.

Some Christians said, “Come on, just lie and go get the certificate and spare your family! It doesn’t mean anything to you anyway; it’s just telling them what they need to hear.” Other Christians said, “No way, I’m not compromising whom I worship. If they want to take me to my death, to my death I will go.” And so there was this conflict. What would you do?

Many of us would run from suffering because of fear, and we would just lie and get the certificate to spare our lives and the lives of our families.

But Jesus here says, “Don’t be afraid; don’t run!”

The Crown

Sometimes we are surprised by our suffering. It seems to come out of nowhere. And sometimes it seems like it will never end. But we aren’t to be surprised. We are to be ready. We are to endure to the end, even if that end includes death. Why? Because Jesus promises a crown. For the Smyrnese, it would be the crown of life–to not be hurt by the second death.

“Be faithful until death, and I will give you the crown of life. ‘He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches. He who overcomes shall not be hurt by the second death.”’

The crown of life here is reminiscent of the athletic crown of leaves given out to those who won the agony of a competition. They would be rewarded for being victorious. “Oh death, where is thy victory, where is thy sting?” Because of Someone who conquered, we don’t have to be afraid of death. And that Conqueror’s name is Jesus, the One who died and who came to life again.

Consider Jesus, and the suffering He endured. “Gethsemane” means “olive press.” It has the same meaning that myrrh does. Jesus had to suffer, to give His life as a ransom for many. He did so for others, for you and me.

Peter, who was eyewitness to Jesus’ suffering, uses this as the motivation for you and I in our sufferings:

“Therefore, since Christ suffered in his body, arm yourselves also with the same attitude, because he who has suffered in his body is done with sin. As a result, he does not live the rest of his earthly life for evil human desires, but rather for the will of God” (1 Peter 4:1-2).

“Be self-controlled and alert. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. Resist him, standing firm in the faith, because you know that your brothers throughout the world are undergoing the same kind of sufferings. And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast. To him be the power forever and ever. Amen”(1 Peter 5:8-11).

I like to think I am an enjoyer of good things. A sunset of brilliant colors, a cup of coffee that tastes of good quality, a flower that smells of good sweetness, a book that makes me recognize new (or old) goodness. Good is good.

Sometimes goodness comes in the form of newness. New mercies — unbelievably good. New ideas — helpful and inspirational. New information — aha! It all makes sense now. New socks — it cannot be denied. Fresh air or fresh vegetables or clean sheets. Good stuff.

Sometimes goodness comes from understanding. An idea, long mulled over, suddenly crystallizing in glorious golden light. The Gospel realized afresh in my heart; the knowingness of like-minded fellowship, sincere friendship or clarified expression; the blessed figuring-out of something.

Sometimes goodness is even stored up in expectations. A new year — this will be the best one yet. A new book — it’s off to a great start. A new person or ideology or season or flavor spectrum or a freshly sharpened number two pencil with which who-knows-what-goodness can be written. Expectations are delicious. But somehow they don’t last, and reality seems to crush them into less-than-palatable crusts.

Somehow that love of goodness, of newness, of expectation within me shrivels because I just can’t handle reality.

Reality is not what I have hitherto expected. I expected goodness! I had hopes! I had hoped… and now I just don’t understand. It can make me a bit cynical about goodness. All that pent-up disappointment silently pleads that, This cannot be goodness. I expected, but not this. I tried to understand, but it doesn’t add up. I looked to new mercies, and they seem neither merciful nor new.

Something within me, due to this life of reality-induced disillusionment, has developed a bit of frustration and understandably so. My expectation for myself, as a walker-by-faith, is that I’d keep up buoyant hopes, and that I’d trust – you know, be good at it. My “truster” within generally wants, knows, wills and endeavors to trust. But there’s a “doubter” within me as well that begs a hard question, and I’ve come to believe it isn’t there without purpose.

Frustration with “Reality-as-it-Seems” is more pervasive in human souls than we probably let ourselves admit. Goodness is good, and I wanted this to be good; but THIS is not very good. So I want to give up trusting, and I feel terrible, condemned and guilty for even slightly supposing that “this” isn’t quite good enough. Because, oughtn’t it be?

I’ve become more honest with God in the past few years. He imparted to me a “truster” within, and I find myself equally entrusted with a “doubter.” The goodness-seeker within me cries out, Don’t ever doubt! It isn’t good!
But what if a little, well-used doubt here and there actually is good?

What if God allows me to be disappointed, disillusioned, and at times even despondent for a while, when goodness just doesn’t seem to be good or enduring enough? For goodness is part of God’s character: He is Good.

He is also eternal. Goodness, therefore, I presume, is meant to be eternal. But the type of goodness I’m accustomed to seeing just doesn’t stick around, if it materializes at all. Anybody with me? The most glorious sunsets, coffees, books, ideas and pencils all have an end, alas! Understood-ness in personal relationships does not remain static, for as living beings, we are continually growing and changing and learning and becoming (which, as a side note, is a good thing); but what was cannot last.

So if my idea of goodness doesn’t stick around much past the momentary, my “doubter” leads me inquire about the nature of goodness. If even the best (most good) thing I see cannot last, then what, in fact, IS good? What is goodness? I ask because my search for it (as a liker of good) seems endless and unsatisfactory at this point in my process.

I think David, the Psalmist, felt this love of good and likewise this un-good disappointment. He wrote that he himself (the man after God’s own heart!) was capable of and even prone to losing heart. Losing heart, the lifelong certainty; goodness indeed! But, ironically enough, he used that fact to point exactly to goodness.

“I would have lost heart, unless I had believed that I would see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. So wait on the Lord; be of good courage, and He shall strengthen your heart. Wait, I say, on the Lord” (Psalm 27:13-14).

So I was right in the first place! Goodness ought to make me not want to lose heart! (Even though mine usually does!) David felt that too, but he knew how to “strengthen his heart in the Lord his God” even in times of distress (1 Samuel 30:6). This implies that my loss of heart is profitable in me, pointing me toward The One Who Is Good, seeking until I find His goodness. I find it further comforting that such goodness can be found in present “land of living” circumstances.

Beholding satisfying goodness in reality is possible.

My firm belief in seeing goodness here is restored, but my methods of finding may need to change, my rush-to-apprehend calm down. Maybe all these constantly swirling changes ARE the goodness of the Lord for me here, and I can relax and let them swirl. I can look for and enjoy the fading good things today by receiving them as gifts from God.

We are made to rejoice in goodness. Don’t forget to rejoice, soul. When disillusionments resurface, I can put my expectations of goodness on the Lord-Who-IS-Goodness, and though goodness may tarry, wait for it. He will strengthen my heart. I can slowly come to know enduring goodness, even through enduring.
There is goodness eternal to be found today too. I can entrust my frustrated, doubting, not yet-goods to the Giver of all good things. It is not against His character to use hard things to get me to look at Him afresh, and in Him, to find hitherto unseen facets of His goodness. I can expect newness and understanding as I allow Him into my reality. It may be slow, but it will be true and lasting — just like a jewel, dug, chiseled, refined and dazzlingly beheld. I think that’s the best kind of good.