This is the first installment in a series examining suffering, earthly restoration, and the hope God has actually promised His people.
Rev. Mark Creech
RevMarkCreech.org
Over the past five years, I have lived through a season in which many of the structures that once gave shape and stability to my life seemed to crumble almost simultaneously. A near-fatal battle with COVID left lingering physical struggles I continue to carry. Soon afterward came the painful ending of a ministry to which I had devoted decades of my life. Alongside these public losses came deeply personal sorrows I do not feel at liberty to recount in detail — griefs that touched the most private corners of my heart.
There are some pains a man can explain openly. Others he carries more quietly, not because they are less real, but because love, wisdom, and dignity require silence.
I will simply say this: there were moments during this season when the weight of it all felt almost unbearable. I do not say that to complain, but only to acknowledge that I can identify, in some measure, with others who have known life’s deepest sorrows.
During difficult times, Christians are often offered words meant to encourage. Friends remind us that God has a plan. They assure us that suffering is never wasted. They tell us brighter days are ahead. Certainly, I agree with much of that.
But there is another kind of encouragement that is increasingly common in Christian circles. We are told that our suffering is a sign that God is preparing to elevate us. Our setback is merely the setup for a comeback. Promotion is around the corner. Restoration is inevitable. If we remain faithful, earthly vindication surely awaits.
I understand why such words are appealing. In some cases, they may even prove true. However, lately I have found myself asking a question I believe every Christian should consider:
Has God actually promised that, after a profound loss, things in this life will always get better?
Certainly, Scripture teaches that God works all things together for good to those who love Him. It teaches that suffering is never meaningless. It teaches that our trials are under the sovereign hand of a perfectly good and benevolent God.
But where does Scripture promise that every faithful believer will eventually experience some earthly form of restoration?
Consider the testimony of God’s Word.
Job eventually saw remarkable restoration after unimaginable loss. Joseph rose from prison to power. David fled caves before ascending the throne.
Yet not every story unfolds that way.
John the Baptist, whom Jesus described as the greatest among those born of women, was imprisoned and beheaded. There was no earthly restoration. No second act. No triumphant comeback.
Stephen faithfully proclaimed Christ and was stoned to death.
The Apostle Paul endured imprisonments, beatings, shipwrecks, betrayals, weakness, and affliction. His earthly story ended with execution.
Then there is Hebrews chapter 11.
The chapter begins with extraordinary stories of deliverance. Kingdoms are subdued. Lions’ mouths are stopped. Armies are defeated. Miracles abound.
But then the narrative takes a dramatic turn:
“And others were tortured, not accepting deliverance” (Hebrews 11:35).
Some escaped the sword. Others died by it. Both pleased God.
That truth is not often emphasized today, but it is woven throughout Scripture. God has never promised that every believer’s earthly story will end in visible triumph.
Indeed, Jesus Himself gave no such promise.
He did not say, “In this world you shall have tribulation, but eventually everything will work out exactly as you hoped.”
He said:
“In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world” (John 16:33).
The promise was not the absence of suffering. It was Christ’s presence and ultimate victory in the midst of it.
One reason many Christians become discouraged is that they quietly embrace promises God never made. When earthly restoration fails to arrive, they wonder whether God has failed them. They wonder whether the Bible is true.
But perhaps the problem is not God’s faithfulness, nor whether the Scriptures can be fully trusted. Perhaps the problem is our expectations.
What if God’s greatest purpose is not to improve our circumstances? What if His highest aim is something richer – something greater?
Romans 8:28 is one of the most beloved verses in Scripture:
“And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God.”
But many stop reading too soon. The next verse explains what that “good” ultimately is:
“To be conformed to the image of his Son” (Romans 8:29).
God’s highest purpose is not necessarily to make our lives easier, happier, wealthier, healthier, more successful, or more esteemed.
His highest purpose is to make us more like Christ.
That realization does not remove the pain. It does not erase the grief. Neither does it answer every question. Moreover, we must admit that our affections are often more earthbound than we realize. We may long more for relief, restoration, and vindication than for the deeper work of being made like Christ.
What it does provide, however, is a sturdier foundation for faith than the fragile hope that every earthly loss will somehow be restored before we die.
The Christian hope is not that every painful story ends happily in this world.
The Christian hope is that nothing surrendered to Christ is ever wasted.
Sometimes God grants remarkable restoration in this life. Sometimes He does not.
This much, nonetheless, is absolutely certain: for those who belong to Christ, the final chapter has already been written, and it is far more glorious than any earthly restoration could ever be.
