Every Woman a Theologian
— Many are the Afflictions of the Righteous —
 
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Dear friend,
 
Mondays are a bit hectic here. I try to get up by 5:30 AM, a positively atrocious time of day, to fit everything in: start dinner in the Instant Pot, review Latin lesson plan, make sure lunches are packed, does the car have gas?, look over the calendar. In all the busyness, one thing I try never to miss is my time in the Word of God. Charles Ryrie said, “The Bible is the greatest of all books; to study it is the noblest of all pursuits; to understand it, the highest of all goals.” And it is noble indeed, but it is also intimate. It is a refuge in times of grief. In this year, as “sorrows like sea billows roll”, I have learned to do as Spurgeon said: “to kiss the wave that throws me up against the Rock of Ages.”
 
This Spurgeon quote always makes think of the American pilgrims to Plymouth, Massachusetts. After a long and devastating trip across the Atlantic, these persecuted Christians landed far north of their intended destination of Virginia. As they pulled near the shore, the ships anchored and the Pilgrims set foot on what is now known as Plymouth Rock. This rock represented a new life, a new beginning, a new freedom.
 
But the Pilgrims' journey was far from over. The winter killed half their population. One might say their new beginning did not turn out as hoped. 
 
In my morning time in the Word I always read in Psalms. I might read our Bible in a Year Club passage too, but I will end in Psalms. Today I walked past Farmer Bob's cornfields, the golden rays of sun streaming through our willows, and listened to the audio version of Psalm 34:
 
The eyes of the Lord are on the righteous,
and his ears are open to their cry for help.
The face of the Lord is set
against those who do what is evil,
to remove all memory of them from the earth.
The righteous cry out, and the Lord hears,
and rescues them from all their troubles.
The Lord is near the brokenhearted;
he saves those crushed in spirit.
One who is righteous has many adversities,
but the Lord rescues him from them all. (v. 16-19)
 
I paused the reading and scrolled back up. In ESV, it reads:
 
"Many are the afflictions of the righteous,
    but the Lord delivers him out of them all."
 
According to Romans, Christians are declared righteous by God through the sacrifice of Christ. Jesus lived a perfect life in human flesh, conquered sin, death and the devil, and became our perfect substitute, our High Priest — bridging the gap between us and God. We are righteous by identity. And yet… many are the afflictions of the righteous. Not few; not rare; not absent. Many are our afflictions. 
 

 
If you grew up in a church setting which equated righteousness with material blessing, this verse may be hard to comprehend. How is it possible that a good, kind God, who loves His people, who saves them, could permit them to experience affliction?
 
I think we need to step back theologically and ask a different question: Why are we, the righteous children, somehow above a suffering our righteous God did not refuse? 
 
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This world is a broken, and grieving place, a place where the Enemy of our souls has the power to inflict pain. There is a spiritual war at play, a war that precedes all of us, a war into which we were born. We cannot change that reality; but we can live well within it. God is not the enemy in this grief-stricken world. He is not the One inflicting pain. To the contrary, He did not consider it beneath Him to take on human flesh and experience the loss, fragility, betrayal, abuse and death we do. Show me a god who has given as much as this.
 
Many are the afflictions of the righteous, yes. But many also were the afflictions of the Righteous One. To our detriment, we focus on the afflictions rather than the promises:
 
My eyes are on you.
My ears are open to you.
I hear you.
I will rescue you.
I am near to you.
I will save you.
I will rescue you from all of this.
 
The test of faith is learning to trust a rescue that doesn't look the way we think it should. I suppose Jesus would have benefited from the rescue of Simon the Zealot, the defense of Peter's impulsive sword, or even the financial smarts of Judas. But he denied them all and walked a road of affliction “for the joy set before him.” (Heb. 12:2)  What was the joy? It certainly was not the throne by itself, because He had that before the Incarnation. The joy on the other side of affliction was uninhibited relationship with us. He bore our sins in His body so we could be called children of God.
 
You ask me how I can have faith in God's goodness, and feel His affection, in a season of loss and unknowns. The joy and love I have for God is not a farce or a fake. I am not putting on a show of faith for the public. I would not use my grief, and the deaths of my unborn children,  in such an irreverent way. What you see of my faith is real, and it is real because my faith is not in changed circumstances but in the unchanging goodness of the God who was afflicted for me. Many are the afflictions of the righteous, but the Lord has rescued me from them all.
 
We ask where God is.
 
God is the righteousness of anger
And the sorrow in our suffering,
God is in the widow’s tears and child’s cry;
the Hail Mary whisper at the end of ourselves.
God is a gavel,
God is the grief
when it consumes and crushes
the very heart of us, He is the
essence of such grieving.
We forget in the suffering how God -
He suffers too.
 
He suffered once, but not only once.
To bear a Cross for the world is to die a thousand-thousand times, 
to feel the pain of every loss, rise with rage at evil
and take up arms against it. And this He did:
fought evil to His death knowing well
how many would die after Him; what suffering was yet to come. 
Did the sky darken for what occurred
or what was coming?
Did it break God’s heart to see the sin He bore, 
sins that put a world to pain?
 
“Why don’t you do something?”
 
But He did. And He still does.
He suffers with us,
sorrows with us,
loses with us,
longs with us,
hurts with us,
weeps with us,
and died with us.
Each death, cry, wound, longing, loss 
wrapped in a grief deep as an ocean canyon,
long as the journey to a star.
We look at death and ask, “Where are you?!”
And He cries from the Cross, “I am here,
taking its sting.”
 
Theodicy, PDM
 
My parents
 
 
 
 
Why Attend 
Verity Conference?
 
The FIFTH annual gathering of Verity Conference is October 11-12th, and I cannot wait to see you in person. If you're in Michigan (or beyond!) this is the best way to meet others in the Every Woman a Theologian community, get the full shop experience of our study resources, and spend two days going DEEP in Scripture, theology and discipleship together!
 
A few years ago I significantly cut back my speaking engagements to focus on local ministry. We pulled back from invites around the nation and instead created Verity, a place where the Every Woman a Theologian online community could meet in person. Our conference is not a giant, overwhelming, emotional high. It is small (maxed at 550 attendees), intimate and focused on biblical teaching.
 
Though we offer individual streaming tickets, and satellite locations like Verity Local (still available!), coming in person is by far the most fun! You get to meet the speakers and sponsors, like Logos and Compassion, attend sessions live, worship with us, and explore beautiful northern Michigan in peak fall colors. 
 
This is our biggest event of the year and I can't wait to welcome you personally to my hometown, to worship with you and learn more about our good, good Father.
 
 
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for the awakening,
Phylicia
 
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PO Box 453
Petoskey, MI 49770, USA