He never called it stupid

Life is difficult. We all discover this to be true. Yes, it's tempting to think that a few blessed souls have it easy, but a review of how things turn out for lucky (??) lotto winners ought to give us pause before we assume that our lives could become miraculously free of difficulties were situation X, Y or Z resolved favorably.

So, given that there will always be a situation X, Y or Z, how should we respond to them?

I, for one, easily get frustrated. As a case in point, I am now in the middle of a situation which has proved costly to me in terms of both time and money (to say nothing of the emotional toll). Despite all my efforts over the past year or two, I have yet to escape it. The situation lingers on, like an intrusive and unwelcome visitor in my home. I believe God allowed it to happen for purposes known to him, and I trust God with the matter. I have already seen some good things come about as a result of what I have experienced.

So far, so good. To be able to say these things truthfully is indeed a victory. But it's not a complete one. I know the victory is not complete because of the words which flow from my heart when the topic comes up in conversation.

In prayer, I work hard to find words that indicate trust and love. God is in charge of the situation, and can be trusted with it. With effort, I find that I am able to thank God for what he is teaching me and how he is shaping me through it. It's tricky business, but I am able to find these words and mean them -- when I'm chatting with God.

But my, oh my, how the wording sometimes changes when I give friends or family an update on this same matter. Suddenly from my heart well up words which bear not-so-beautiful testimony to another perspective which I also hold within me. The thing is "stupid." The situation "sucks." I'm "tired" of it. "How I wish I had never met so-and-so, who got me into this mess." "If I had known what I was getting into, I would never have done it!!"

The strange thing is, I am being pretty honest in both situations. I speak with God in one way, and am helped by the knowledge that he is omniscient, omnipotent and loves me too. Why bother complaining to God, that being the case? In the mystery of life, this is how God is choosing to grow me up. I know this to be true, so I may as well talk that way when I'm in a conversation with him.

But in conversations with other broken people like me, I so easily move into what we all do so well -- an attitude of complaining. And usually I can count on their sympathy, because we all find it easy to slip into the fallacy of believing that difficulties are evils wrongfully thrust upon our lives -- intrusions on the idyllic existence we thought we ought to have been given as a birthright.

Then there is the example of Christ Jesus. Search the scriptures and see. Jesus never called the cross "stupid." He never said his situation "sucked." Whereas our woes usually jump us from behind (or worse, are the direct result of our own screwed up decisions), Jesus' cross was ever before him, precipitated by our screw-ups (not his)... and yet he knowingly kept walking toward it. With a good attitude. We don't know all the exact words Jesus used, but it appears that he talked about his impending doom in a rather matter-of-fact way with his disciples. The strongest words Jesus had to say about the crucifixion he knew he would endure were that it was a "baptism" he was eager to see to completion. (Luke 12:50)

But to call those his strongest words on the topic would be to ignore his prayer in the garden of Gethsemane. (Luke 22:41-44) Wait a minute. Prayer? So... let me get this straight. Jesus' words about his crucifixion were most "godly" when he was talking to men... And his words on the same topic were most "human" when he was talking with God...

Mystery. A complete reversal of how I talk about my little crosses in life. I save my complaints for people, and my most pious words for God. Perhaps there is a lesson there for me, somewhere.

But one final reflection to add to the mix, making Christ's example for me all the more compelling and challenging.

When unpleasant realities intrude into my life, my worst words are always reserved for those who helped usher them in, and the words come most easily when the offender is a close friend or family member. It's that commonly understood reality -- we are often more polite to strangers than we are to our own spouses or siblings.

For stark contrast, look no further than how Jesus spoke about the cross. Not only did he keep a good attitude about it, but he also never held it over anyone. It's a bizarre image... a painting no one ever painted. Jesus never held his cross over anyone. Imagine how tempting it would have been for Jesus to say in exasperation, "You pathetic people -- I'm going to die a gruesome death, and if it weren't for you, I wouldn't even have to do it! A little gratitude is in order here." But the gospels record no such bitter complaints.

Jesus didn't pop an attitude about the cross. He didn't complain to us about it. He didn't shove our noses in it. And when the burden was almost more than he could bear -- he talked to God about it. And he accepted it without argument or bitterness when God didn't take it away.

God, give me this gracious attitude for the crosses I bear in my life, which don't bear comparison to the cross of Christ anyway.