Century-old white pines guarded the country lane where we used to walk. I loved the profile of these forest giants. Unfortunately, their height courted lightning. A wild summer storms severely blasted two of them. One stood stark and dead against the sky, the other was reduced to a fifty-foot stub, broken off half-way down its trunk.

The hum of swarming bees drew my attention to a huge knot-hole. A steady stream of honey bees flew in and out storing spring’s nectar. The lightning that shattered the forest giant had prepared a repository for honey, one of nature’s greatest boons.

How can good come from bad, growth from disease, life from death? How can tragedy prepare for triumph? High on the list of those perennial mysteries we ponder is this one—the mystery of suffering.

God assures believers good will triumph in their lives. “We know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.”[1] Sometimes the way we use this verse seems more like a mantra than an article of practical faith.

Consider Job, a scary proposition! Could the kinds of tragedies happen in my life? Yet, the story has a wonderful finale. At the end of his trials Job testified, “My ears had heard of you but now my eyes have seen you. Therefore, I despise myself and repent in dust and ashes.”[2] Subsequently, Job was “comforted and consoled . . . and the Lord blessed the latter part of Job’s life more than the first.”[3]

Job’s experience has been duplicated throughout history. From prison Paul wrote to the Philippians, “What has happened to me has really served to advance the gospel. As a result, it has become clear throughout the whole palace guard and to everyone else that I am in chains for Christ.”[4] Because of his imprisonment, “most of the brothers in the Lord have been encouraged to speak the word of God more courageously and fearlessly.”[5]

Second Corinthians describes how Paul learned of God’s power in the crucible of suffering. “We have this treasure [the glory of God in the face of Christ] in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. We’re hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body.”[6]

These biblical precedents sometimes seem alien to our context. To understand how tribulation can metaphorically produce honey, we need to see God at work in our own era. Fortunately, when I listen to a seasoned saint reflect on trials, the comments I hear are usually positive. They tell of lessons learned, how they have grown, and their closer relationship to God.

After Joni Eareckson broke her neck in a diving accident, she founded Joni and Friends. This ministry has brought help to multitudes around the world through their daily radio programs and by supplying 25,000 wheelchairs to developing countries. She writes, “I am convinced that the whole ordeal of my paralysis was inspired by God’s love. I wasn’t the brunt of some cruel divine joke. God had reasons behind my suffering, and learning some of them has made all the difference in the world.”[7]

How God distills good from evil is still puzzling—until God brings trials into our own lives. We are such slow learners, a fact compounded by the media’s message that pleasure and good health and abundant provision are our inalienable right. Spiritual realities seem so ethereal.

Admittedly, I’m a particularly slow learner. It took multiplied trials as a missionary in Pakistan to convince me of the reality of Jesus’ promise, “Lo, I am with you always.”[8] It took decades of financial crises for me to learn, “My God will meet all your needs according to his glorious riches in Christ Jesus.”[9] Through years of teaching and preaching—which I never found easy—I kept relearning that “I can do everything through him who gives me strength.”[10]

I still needed to learn empathy for those in physical distress. I always walked fast, loved to hike and hated hospitals! Then came shortness of breath and restricted activity. After a series to tests, the diagnosis of severe heart blockage with no surgical options came as a blow.

Why Lord? You need to learn that I am, “The God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God.”[11] I’m slowly learning to have more compassion—and that’s good. And I have much more appreciation for health care professionals—that’s good too, like honey in that lightning-blasted pine.

Lord help me to be more compassionate and comforting to others who face severe trials. Help me to value your care and comfort, more than any creature comfort. If it is your will, help me to learn more of faith and hope and love and patience and joy and peace without having to go through trials to see their value. If it is your will, help me to maintain a measure of health and strength that I might serve you all my days. 

[1] Rom. 8:28

[2] Job. 42:5,6

[3] Job 42:11,12

[4] Phil. 1:12,13

[5] Phil 1:14

[6] 2 Cor. 4:7-10

[7] .Quoted in Where is God When Things Go Wrong?, John Blanchard, p. 37

[8] Matt. 28:20

[9] Phil. 4:19

[10] Phil. 4:13

[11] 2 Cor. 1:3,4

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