The Bible gives us some seemingly ironic commands. Here's one of them: "My brethren, count it all joy when ye fall into divers[e] temptations [trials]" (James 1:2).
Not some joy but all joy?
This is a beautiful thing—this trial? So beautiful, in fact, that it is to be rejoiced in? Sung over? Praised about? This trial is a place of delight? I am to not “grin and bear it” but live joyfully in this spot? Really? Doesn’t that seem double-headed? And impossible?
My friend Sunny died of breast cancer less than a year ago. I loved her dearly. We talked regularly of the things of God and sharpened one another in the faith. Sunny was talented and gifted. She was mother to six beautiful children, aged three to fourteen. I wanted to frame a verse for her for her last birthday, so I asked Sunny what one of her favorite passages was. Without hesitation, she responded, “James 1:2-4.”
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| My late friend Sunny with a few of her children |
Cancer was only one of Sunny’s crosses. Other difficulties lay hidden under the surface. As we became closer friends, she let me know what those were, and I was able to share prayer, books, and resources with my dear friend as she endured these trials. I began praying for her deliverance, not knowing how God would answer. On Labor Day 2023, she ceased from her labors on earth. God delivered her from all her trials by taking her home to Him.
I miss Sunny. I miss her smile. And I miss her friendship. But, praise God, I have the same word that Sunny had—God’s Word—and I can take God at His Word.
Christians can be accused of not being real. By accounting a trial joy, it is said they are living in a fake world. I’d like to counter that they’re partaking of a faith world. To trust God when life is impossible to figure out, when the next step seems completely hidden from view— this is a life of faith. And God’s grace helps us respond--even with joy!--when the going gets tough.
I’d love to report that I’ve got this down. I’m a master trial-bearer. I access grace 24-7; and if you grab a chair, I’ll explain the steps, 1-2-3, of trial-bearing with joy, so that you can do the same. But it wouldn’t be true. I’m still learning. And growing. And changing in my natural response (which includes both worry and fear) to joy and rejoicing while enduring trials.
How do we account our trials as joy?
Like my friend Sunny, even when her leg was throbbing from the pain of cancer, we can choose to smile. People can’t see what’s going on inside. They often do notice the face, though. Smiling at others visibly represents joy. It communicates love and acceptance. It’s a visible sign that “It is well with my soul.” Sometimes when we are hurting so deeply, feeling the “slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,” as Shakespeare’s Hamlet decried, we refrain from smiling as we ought.
And yet, we can smile by faith.[1]
We smile because our faith isn’t in how good things feel right now. Our faith is in the One Who bore our sorrows for us. Whose stripes healed us. And today we plead His wounds as we intercede for those whose unkind and /or untrue words seem impossible to rip from the corridor of our minds.
My husband and I enjoy hiking.
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| At Banff National Park |
Once, we trekked an amazing trail in Canada. Starting through a pine forest by an aquamarine glacial lake in Banff National Park, we hiked through a carpet of pine needles. Soon, the pathway became less lovely. Pinpricks of rain dropped upon us. The guidebook had promised an incredible panorama at the mountain ahead, Fairview. From it, we were told, we could gain one of the best views in the Rocky Mountains and of the glorious Lake Louise.
We hiked onward. Around three o’clock in the afternoon, we stared ahead at a mountain of brown--a steep pile of scree and rocks. As we trudged forward, carefully placing one foot ahead of the other, we noticed two other hikers (to whom we had spoken before, near the hike's beginning) plodding onward, as well. After about 45 minutes of this less-than-lovely part of the journey, the hikers stopped. The next thing we knew, they were passing us. “I think we’re done for the day,” they said, not wishing to hike any more in this desolate part of the landscape, where a heavier rain shower threatened.
By that point, I too had considered that turning back might not be a bad idea. The hike had been all right at the beginning, but now the landscape seemed barren and desolate. Could it really be all that the guidebook promised--especially if the mountain was shrouded in clouds?
In life, things can get like that.
Sometimes, I really don’t understand the plan God has for me. Things around me look ugly or appear dark. The way ahead is rough and steep. Rocky protrusions cause me to stumble. I must amble slowly, gingerly up the mountain path. Mountain scree under my feet reminds me that one misstep could send me sliding downward a hundred feet.
Suddenly, on our hike up the mountain, I saw a glimmer of light. I looked up. The sun was playing behind the clouds. Then I noticed something else.
“Thomas, look!” I cried.
Sure enough, there was a rainbow, behind us to our right. Afforded this view, we were encouraged to keep moving ahead.
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| The rainbow on the trek to Mount Fairview |
So, in faith, I smile, knowing there is One by my side who will make all things right in the end.
On our hike that day, we continued to climb.
The wind picked up as we neared the top of Mount Fairview. At last, we reached the summit and stepped onto a level region there. In all directions, the crested tops of mountains, clothed in summits of snow, surrounded us. Awestruck, we enjoyed a few bites of our picnic lunch while taking in the splendor.
The glorious panorama had indeed been worth it!
Then, we huddled close together as the wind picked up, and I gathered the food back into the backpack.
“Those people who turned around early don't know what they missed!” I told Thomas.
Then, falling from the sky, I noticed little flurries of white.
Snow had begun to descend there at the top of the mountain.
Somewhere in the distance, thunder rumbled. It was time to retrace our steps, back down the mountain.
But the vistas we’d encountered at Mount Fairview had indeed been breathtaking—and worth our climb.
And so in life. Looking forward in faith, we walk onward, waiting for that view, that summit, in which God in the splendor of His Word reveals Himself to our hearts. There, He shows us His plan. We glimpse His view as we take refuge in Him. When we look back, we see--His plan really was perfect! And we're assured: His way for us is right. His path is best!
Daily, as I journey ahead, God's eternal words remind me that--by faith--I see Him Who is invisible. So I look up, knowing that whatever lies ahead is part of His perfect plan.
And, finding strength for the next step on life’s road, I smile.
By faith.
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| From the top of Mount Fairview |
[1] Additionally, smiling comes with some great research. Smiling reduces stress and gets our brain circuiting on a good path. (See https://buffer.com/resources/the-science-of-smiling-a-guide-to-humans-most-powerful-gesture/.) So, a practical way to endure a trial with joy is to smile!
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