For the last year in my ministry, I have been focused more directly on serving families. I have spent a lot of time working with and talking to families, and I have noticed a few things.
For one, families are all one bad day away from falling apart.
What I mean by that is that modern life has stretched our families to their limits. Even families who appear to have it all put together don’t have a lot of margin in terms of finances, time, or emotional health. When a crisis comes, there is a lack of spiritual reserve to address the issue, and so we crumble.
It reminds me a little of one of my favorite passages from Ecclesiastes, where we are warned to remember God in our youth “before the evil days come and the years draw near of which you will say, ‘I have no pleasure in them’; before the sun and the light and the moon and the stars are darkened and the clouds return after the rain” (12:1-2). In the early days of our families, we face an obstacle, and we think, “This is tough, but everything will be okay after this.” And then after every storm is another looming cloud of uncertainty and crisis. Every relationship struggle has a sequel. Every bad day has a worse day. Every virus has a variant.
At last, a day comes when we realize we are empty, and we have nothing more to give. We see the next cloud on the horizon and we ask ourselves, “How can we endure another wave of hardship? Is this the one that breaks us?”
Such was the likely circumstance that led to the writing of the book we call Hebrews. Many people believe this text started as a sermon for Jewish (or “Hebrew”) Christians living in southern Italy. These families had once lived in Rome until they faced the worst days of their lives in 49 AD under Claudius. The Roman historian Suetonius records, “There were riots in the Jewish quarter at the instigation of Chrestus. As a result, Claudius expelled the Jews from Rome” (Suetonius, Life of the Deified Claudius 25.4). We suspect that “Chrestus” is a misspelling of the name Christ (Christus), and that Suetonius was trying to report the riots in the Jewish quarter of Rome resulting from the rise of the Christian faith. Claudius, impatient with disorder and the disruption of Roman peace, had simply expelled all the Jews in that neighborhood from Rome. Roman soldiers did not distinguish traditional Jewish families from Messiah-following families we would call Christians, so all of them together were kicked out of the city. People like Aquila and Priscilla are named in the book of Acts as some who were dislodged and made refugees by this edict (Acts 18:2).
Thus expelled, these Christian families would have resettled outside of Rome in various villages of southern Italy and begun rebuilding their communities. They dug deep into their reservoir of emotional fortitude and started their lives over. The unknown author of Hebrews challenges them to remember that experience when he writes, “But recall the former days when, after you were enlightened, you endured a hard struggle with sufferings, sometimes being publicly exposed to reproach and affliction, and sometimes being partners with those so treated. For you had compassion on those in prison, and you joyfully accepted the plundering of your property, since you knew that you yourselves had a better possession and an abiding one.” (Hebrews 10:32–34).
Now, perhaps fifteen years later in 64 AD, the next storm cloud is on the horizon. Claudius is long gone, but the cruel tyrant Nero is in his place in Rome. His hatred for Christians is only matched by his willingness to scapegoat them to avoid his unpopularity. Another wave of imperial persecution is coming for a people only recently recovered from the last wave. “In your struggle against sin you have not yet resisted to the point of shedding your blood” (Hebrews 12:4). Not yet, but perhaps soon.
What would you tell these families balanced on a knife’s edge? What sermon would you preach? How could Christians endure yet another wave of persecution?
The author of Hebrews points them to Jesus, the great high priest. “Since then we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus, the Son of God, let us hold fast our confession” (Hebrews 4:14). We are not on our own in our struggles – neither then nor now. There is someone who champions our cause – not in the halls of Roman despotism – but in the throneroom-temple of heaven itself.
To be of any value to us, a priest must have two qualities: a connection to God and a connection to humanity. For some, the shameful crucifixion and death of Christ appeared to be a verdict against any connection to heaven. However, the Christian saw Christ raised to life and even ascended, “passed through the heavens” to the very presence of God. His access to heaven has never been more secure than it is now.
But what about his connection to humanity? If he is in heaven, is he now too remote to understand our struggles? The preacher answers: “For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin” (Hebrews 4:15). This message above all others held significance for these suffering Christians and our families today.
Christianity does not promise immediate resolutions to life’s crises. Rather, the gospel is a promise that even when Jesus doesn’t seem to fix our problems, he gets our problems. There is nothing we will ever face that he has not also faced. He knows what it means to endure storm after storm. He knows what it means to wonder if you have the strength to endure the onrushing pain. He knows what it means to pray, “If it is possible, let this cup pass from me,” only to have God require that you drink that bitter cup just the same (Matthew 26:39).
Jesus, the priest who serves in the presence of the Holy God, knows intimately the struggles of unholy humanity. Thus, what the text of Hebrews offers us is not a curative for our diseases but rather a balm for our sufferings. Christianity does not provide an incantation for summoning divine intervention in every crisis. In Christ, we find instead what we need. “Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need” (Hebrews 4:16). What we need is not a solution for our troubles, but grace for the journey.
Sometimes in Scripture, Jesus calms a storm, heals a disease, or casts out a demon. At other times, he walks with us through those same storms and gives us what we need to endure. He does not smooth out every road, but he also doesn’t forsake us on the journey.
“And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age” (Matthew 28:20).
Republished with permission from Blogs.crossmap.com, featuring inspiring Bible verses about Finding Strength in Struggle.
