The Caller said, “I’d never be able to do that,” in response to the young brother who faced death so courageously. Maybe the caller was right. If he were stricken with a fatal disease in his twenties, maybe he would have been consumed with bitterness, unbelief and resent­ment against God. Last month, the magazine featured the outstanding re­action of a young brother, his wife and family to the brother’s terminal ill­ness. Some would find their example wonderfully encouraging, but others were overwhelmed at the thought God might bring the same trial into their lives.

We’re all different

Because of the circumstances of our lives or the makeup of our personalities, it’s true that not everyone can faithfully endure the same trials. Some can tolerate a life of pain which would drive others to addictive drugs; some can endure financial reverses which would break the spirit of oth­ers. The agony of sudden disaster will drive some to God while driving others to total despair.

We remember David and his men returning to Ziklag to find everything gone – wives, children, clothing, furniture, cattle, all had disappeared. “Then David and the people that were with him lifted up their voice and wept, until they had no more power to weep” (I Sam. 30:4). The bitter­ness of the people overflowed in rage against David: “For the people spake of stoning him, because the soul of all the people was bitter.” But “David encouraged himself in the Lord his God” (v.6). What drove his men to bitter hostility drove David back into the arms of Yahweh. The same circumstances evoked different responses from different people.

The trial fitted to the person

Surely God takes these individual differences into account when regulating the circumstances of our lives. He must do so in order for it to be true that: “God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able” (I Cor. 10:13). It must be so that God fits the trial to the person. Yet even then, we fail.

How can this be? If the trial is fitted to our personality, how is it we fail? Because we are weak and we sin when we shouldn’t.

Isn’t that intolerable for the people of God? It’s not good, but it’s been a chronic problem since the beginning.

Consider David again. Yes, he endured faithfully the trial of sudden devastation, but the sole reason he was living at Ziklag, a city of the Phi­listines, was because he had failed to endure a trial of a different sort. In spite of the certain promise of God, “David said in his heart, I shall now perish one day by the hand of Saul: there is nothing better for me than that I should speedily escape into the land of the Philistines” (I Sam. 27:1). The long years of pursuit finally broke his spirit and he failed to maintain faith in God’s promise that he would be king of Israel.

Consider Abraham. His astonishing faith in the promises of God (cf. Heb. 11:8-10) and his insight regarding the coming Messiah (see this month’s article on Abraham) qualified him as the “father of the faithful.” Yet he lacked confidence that God would protect him from the swords of Pharaoh and Abimelech. Considering the beauty of Sarah, he feared “they will say, This is his wife: and they will kill me” (Gen. 12:12). How could God keep His promise and let Abraham be slain? Where was Abraham’s acclaimed faith under these circumstances?

When we consider the danger to Sarah, some of us wonder what was wrong with Abraham. We’d risk any personal harm before putting our wife in such jeopardy.

The hundred-year trial of living as a stranger and pilgrim Abraham could endure, but he failed in a specific form of crisis.

Consider Peter. He had given up a lucrative business to follow Jesus, prepared to live by faith as he looked forward to the kingdom. When sent out two by two to preach the gospel, he had endured rejection for the gospel’s sake and had proven himself willing to risk death with all the apostles (Mt. 10:14; John 11:16). But he became disoriented by the seizure and trial of Christ and failed miser­ably, denying he knew his Lord.

Is failure avoidable?

Of course failure is avoidable. Every disciple can say with Paul, “I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me” (Phil. 4:13). There is often a way of escape for trial; David, Abraham, Peter, ourselves — the Lord is able to sustain us in our hour of greatest need. Sometimes the servant of God is amazed at what he faithfully endures through the strength of God. But at times we fail, everyone does and, except for our Lord, everyone has.

It’s like saying accidents are avoidable, but we all know avoidable accidents happen. What is our response when one of our family members is seriously injured by an avoidable accident, perhaps one we had repeatedly warned them about? We don’t stand back with accusing reprimands, we don’t refuse to help, we take them to the hospital.

A hospital for sinners

Where’s the spiritual hospital for saints who fail under pressure? It’s the ecclesia! “Is any sick among you? let him call for the elders of the church…and the prayer of faith shall save the sick, and the Lord shall raise him up; and if he have committed sins, they shall be forgiven him. Confess your faults one to another, and pray one for another, that ye may be healed” (James 5:14-16). This instruction obviously applies as much to spiritual illness as to physical. In fact, in our day, its primary application is to spiritual problems.

The article on parables makes the point that the ecclesia is to be a hos­pital for sinners. We need to ask ourselves: Is ours? Somewhere we re­cently saw the same idea included in a catchy phrase: “The church is a hospital for sinners, not a country club for saints.”

A country club is where people of similar social standing or cultural background feel comfortable together. In some ways, that’s like the ecclesia as those who are Christ’s, sharing the same standards and objectives, come together in fellowship and comfortable association. But the ecclesia has to be more than that; it must also be a place where sinners come for healing and saints, who have collapsed under pressure, can be helped to rise again.

When we’re spiritually ill, we may not be pleasant to be around, any more than when we are physically ill. Hospital workers use all the knowl­edge and resources of modem medi­cine to help heal the seriously ill. Many times, the easier course would be to leave the ill person to himself. In like manner, “…although a man be overtaken in a fault, ye which are spiritual, restore such an one in the spirit of meekness; considering thy­self, lest thou also be tempted [by an­gry, hasty, unkind treatment of the spiritually sick person]” (Gal. 6:1). We should also remember that while we may not need a spiritual hospital at the moment, we’ll probably need one at some point.

Fulfilling the law of Christ

In light of the special section on helping the single parent, the question is particularly suitable to this issue of the magazine. Is our ecclesia a hos­pital for sinners, or is it nothing more than a country club for saints? If, in­stead of setting a sterling example, one of our members collapses during trial, do they receive from us the love of Christ?

Paul summarizes the admonition as he continues his exhortation: “Bear ye one another’s burdens, and so ful­fill the law of Christ. For if a man think himself to be something, when he is nothing, he deceiveth himself’ (Gal. 6:2-3).