“King Herod…had James, the brother of John, put to death with the sword. But the word of God continued to increase and spread” (Acts 12:2,24).
In the very same chapter we have death and new life.
Such was the experience of the brothers and sisters in Jerusalem. It is ours also.
“Godly men buried Stephen and mourned deeply for him. But Saul began to destroy the church. Those who had been scattered preached the word wherever they went. So there was great joy…” (Acts 8:2,3,4,8).
Sorrow and joy
In the same chapter at the same time– sorrow and joy. Such was the experience of the believers then. So it is with us today. It cannot be otherwise. This is the mixed cup that our God gives us to drink in this time of probation, of testing, of character-building. For, as the apostle reminds us, right now we “walk by faith, not by sight” (II Cor. 5:7).
In a recent issue of the “Christadelphian” magazine, fraternal news appeared from 141 ecclesias. Fifty baptisms and 49 deaths are reported, with five withdrawals balanced by five re-fellowships. In all a total gain of one for the month. There it is, the sum of ecclesial life: sorrow mingled with joy, the deaths of some made just a little less grievous because others are born again.
Why that person?
Luke as the writer of the Acts gives no explanations. There were 12 apostles, all busily trying to fulfill the Lord’s commission to preach. Why was James picked on — not by Herod, but by God — to have his head chopped off? Why James and not his brother John?
Peter and John wrestled with this problem and had a serious talk with Jesus about it as reported in John 21. Peter learned from Jesus that he would live to be an old man, but when he reached old age he would be crucified like his Lord (v.18). Incidentally, would we be able to handle such information and knowledge about our own life without it making us either too carefree or too anxious? Would we really want to know? Jesus evidently expected Peter to accept this prophetic knowledge and live with it –just as Jesus himself had done throughout his mortal life, knowing as he did every detail of the Old Testament prophecies concerning himself.
But the thing that seemed to bother Peter most was the same that bothers us. What about so-and-so? Is he going to get off Scot-free, is he going to have an easier time than me, and if so, why? He points out John and asks: “Lord, what about him?”
The answer is not an answer, but another question (as often with Jesus!): “If I want him to remain alive until I return, what is that to you? You must follow me” (v.22).
No explanation now
The answer, if there is an answer, is not for us now. The answer for now is: “You must follow me!” The 50 baptisms prove the Lord’s point. To try and stop the clock or hold back the world’s rotation while we agonize over why Sister White and Brother Black were cut off in their prime is pointless. It is devastating to the spirit, too. In this life we can never know, or understand. “What is that to you? You must follow me.”
Hard? Of course it’s hard. It’s brutally hard. But life, and the life of ecclesias, must go on. Every tear shed for those laid to rest must be an incentive to bring a new life to the birth.
Right grief is acceptable
In the King James version of Thessalonians 4:13, there is a cruel comma that should not be there. Paul surely did not say, “I would…that ye sorrow not, even as others who have no hope.” No, that comma is not in the right place at all. When Stephen died, those devout men made “great lamentation.” When Dorcas died, “all the widows stood weeping” (Acts 9:39). The loss of a loved one is no less grievous to a saint than to a sinner — indeed, it is surely more so. The tears at the graveside of a believer are real, not crocodile tears.
No, what Paul really said was: “We do not want you to grieve like the rest of men, who have no hope” (NIV). That’s where the comma ought to be. We grieve, yes, but we are not overwhelmed. We can see the sun through the clouds. “We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair.”
We are not stoics
In Paul’s day, there was a sect in Greece called the Stoics. He met and argued with some of them at Athens. They had no real hope of any afterlife. But they said that we show our real character by pushing back the tears and putting on a brave face. That is how the word “stoical” came to be. Other Greeks, who didn’t have any hope either, made frantic and frenzied displays of grief whenever someone died.
Sincere believers in the Truth do neither of these. The hope we have sustains us. And as instanced by the regular flow of ecclesial news, we mingle joy with our sorrow. Take heart and press onward to the mark for the prize of our high calling in Jesus Christ. That prize is life everlasting in his glorious kingdom.
The Origin of the Organic World – Part One