Ecclesiastes 7

A few days ago, I quoted from an article written by Aleksandar Hemon about the death of his little girl, Isabel. The paragraph I quoted began with a sentence that, at the time, I left out, but I will quote now: “One of the most despicable religious fallacies is that suffering is ennobling—that it is a step on the path to some kind of enlightenment or salvation.” Now, I don’t know about suffering being a step toward salvation, but I’m not sure I’m ready to agree that suffering is not ennobling.

Not only is there Biblical evidence to the contrary (which we will examine from today’s chapter), but more importantly for me, I know that suffering is ennobling from personal experience. Of course, I would never go up to any grieving person and tell them to “buck up” because suffering is ennobling. Nor would I say that the fact that suffering is ennobling diminishes the pain and sorrow that suffering causes.

To recognize that suffering can and often does result in profound spiritual growth should never make light of the sufferer’s experience. Jesus might have known that He was in control of everything when it came to the cross (Jn 10:18), but that didn’t mean His suffering wasn’t real and painful and awful. However, He endured the suffering of the cross for the sake of… joy: “Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.” (Heb 12:2)

The suffering of Jesus led Him to joy. And that’s exactly what Solomon said about suffering in today’s chapter: “Sorrow is better than laughter, for sadness has a refining influence on us.” (vs 3) That’s sort of counter-intuitive, isn’t it? We would naturally think that being happy is what would cause refinement. But the truth is (at least in my own life) that some of my most sorrowful days have been amongst my best days. In fact, when I lived with my parents to help care for my father as he was dying, my mom and I would sometimes stand in the kitchen, look at each other and say, “These are good days.” And somehow, they were.

In his commentary on this verse, F.B. Meyer wrote, “When the face is wreathed with smiles, and we trip lightly over meadows bespangled with spring flowers, our heart is often running to waste. The soul which is always jovial and carefree misses the deepest life. It has its reward, and it is satisfied to its measure, though that measure is a very scanty one. But the heart is dwarfed, and the nature, which is capable of the highest heights, the deepest depths, is undeveloped; and life presently burns down to its socket without having known the resonance of the deepest chords of joy.”

Is it possible that, for us (as for Jesus), the way to joy is through the cross? Is this why Jesus asked us to take up our cross and follow Him? We don’t want to take up a cross! We want to avoid the cross, sidestep it, go around it, leap over it… but what if the only way to joy is to go through it?

Could that be the reason Jesus said, “Blessed are those who mourn”? (Matt 5:4) Could that be why Peter said, “Do not be surprised at the painful trial you are suffering, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice that you participate in the sufferings of Christ, so that you may be overjoyed when his glory is revealed”? (1 Pet 4:12-13)

Could that be the reason Paul wrote, “We pray that you’ll have the strength to stick it out over the long haul—not the grim strength of gritting your teeth but the glory-strength God gives. It is strength that endures the unendurable and spills over into joy, thanking the Father who makes us strong enough to take part in everything bright and beautiful that he has for us”? (Col 1:11-12)

I want Aleksandar Hemon to find some of the glory-strength that God gives. I want him to know that Isabel’s story is not over and that he will see her again—healthy and well—when God shows us how He has made everything bright and beautiful.

In that sense, then, perhaps it’s not quite right to say that suffering is ennobling, but more accurate to say that God is ennobling. He knows the way to joy, and He knows how to get us there—even if the path must go through a Gethsemane garden and a Calvary cross. As we take up our cross to follow Jesus, we can know that the same joy that was set before Him is set before us. All we must do is fix our eyes on Him, for He knows the way.