The Discipline of Disability

''The things which happened unto me'' (Phil. 1:12).

   So much of life seems utterly meaningless, even miserable, without rhyme or reason, right or wrong, and justice, least of all. There is abundance everywhere of turmoil and trouble, tragedy and tears, inhumanity and injustice, sickness and sorrow, so that anyone without could reason that the universe is entirely unreasonable, a miserable mess, a ghastly joke. There is so much that just ''happens,'' no apparent plan nor purpose, only pathos, pain, and perplexity, loneliness instead of love, handicaps instead of help, false hopes instead of far horizons, pain instead of pleasure, inactivity instead of activity, sobs instead of song, four walls instead of four freedoms, darkness instead of daylight, futility instead of fulfillment: these happen to all of us. This is life; but not all of it.

   There is the discipline of disability that brings singing for sighing, serving for sitting, gladness for gloom, assurance for ashes, melody for mourning, usefulness for uselessness, duty for dungeons. Some brave souls have trusted in cruel trials, have sung in

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dark shadows, have believed in blinding bewilderment, have waited for divine aid when assailed by diabolical wickedness. They have beyond the testings, tragedies, and tears of time held to the truth of Romans 8:28, ''And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are called according to his purpose.''

   Joseph knew this discipline. Envy by his elder brothers and hatreds within his own home sold him into slavery on foreign soil (Gen. 37). For efficiency and effectiveness in Potiphar's household he was rewarded with misrepresentation and miscarriage of justice, and was bound in prison (Gen. 39). For cooperation in that dismal place and for consideration toward Pharaoh's butler and baker he was forgotten and forsaken (Gen. 40). However, other days came: the opening of prison doors (Gen. 41:14); the service in high places (41:43); the blessing of God to the extent that he could name his first-born Manasseh (''Forgetting''—''for God hath made me forget all my toil, and all my father's house,'' vs. 51), and the second son Ephraim (''Fruitful''—''For God hath caused me to be fruitful in the land of my affliction,'' vs. 52); and finally, the bowing down of his own brothers to him (42:6; 43:26; 44:14). To them he could say, ''Now therefore be not grieved, nor angry with yourselves, that ye sold me hither: for God did send me before you to preserve life. . . . And God sent me before you to preserve you a posterity in the earth. . . So now it was not you that sent me hither,

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but God'' (Gen. 45:5, 7, 8). Not you, your envy, malice or hatred; not you, but God! Later he added, ''But as for you, ye thought evil against me: but God meant it unto good'' (50:20). Your thought, evil; God's thought, for good. For Joseph, and even unto his brothers, everything worked together for good.

   Job knew this discipline. He was happy, wholesome, helpful to others, and holy before God, who described him as ''none like him in the earth, a perfect and an upright man'' (Job 1:8); yet in a brief time there came loss of loved ones, wealth, and health, everything. To side with his ''comforters,'' cocksure of themselves and sometimes caustic, and say that Job's sorrow was the result of his sin, is to make the story without significance. It is only logical and reasonable that foolishness and folly should have their fruitage in judgment; but in the book of Job God is teaching us an even dozen lessons: there can be sorrow without sin, darkness without disobedience, inequity without iniquity, mourning without merit, chaos without cause, judgment without justice. The innocent suffer because of the folly of the fathers, the greed of the grafters, the arrogance of the autocrats, the laxity of the laws, the inhumanity of the uninhibited, the treachery of the tyrants, the wickedness of war, the fatality of fortune, the godlessness of the ungodly.

   Without understanding that not all sorrow is the result of our own sin, that loss of loved ones and health can bring one into ''the dark night of the

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soul,'' and that God has a way of release for the sorrowing saint with a reward for his sighing, the book of Job would be completely enigmatical and incomprehensible to us. ''The dark night of the soul'' can bring us into bondage, test our trust in God, cast away our confidence, perplex our perspective, befuddle our faculties, until like Job we bewail the day of our birth (3:1-18), fail to find God (23:8, 9), and desire death (17:14-16). To be sure, there are streaks of light shining through the dark clouds: ''I know that my redeemer liveth'' (19:25), and ''He knoweth the way I take: when he hath tried me, I shall come forth as gold'' (23:10); but these are the rare exceptions in Job's dark experience. Job was in the bleak, bitter blackness of the night, to which it seemed there would never come a dawn.

   Such severe testing times for the soul are not unknown among God's dear children, when the heart is utterly desolate, the mind dark, hope dim, and help delayed. It seems that no ''comforters'' can console them at such a time, neither by sound counsel nor strong courage, least of all, by condemnation for alleged sin. ''The dark night of the soul'' seems to be a valley to be traversed alone, like Christian in the Valley of the Shadow of Death. The pathway is precarious, the enemy accuses, the abyss yawns, the heart fails; but if the darkened soul will go on, the morning will come. It did for Christian in Pilgrim's Progress; it did for Job. ''And the Lord turned the captivity of Job, when he prayed for his friends;

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also the Lord gave Job twice as much as he had before . . . So the Lord blessed the latter end of Job more than his beginning'' (42:10,12). Therefore the Scriptures say of him, ''Ye have heard of the patience of Job, and have seen the end of the Lord; that the Lord is very pitiful, and of tender mercy'' (Jas. 5:11).

   The blessing of the Lord! The end of the Lord! The pity and the mercy of the Lord! It all worked together for good to Job; and his testimony has blessed countless millions of believers down the ages.

   Jonah knew this discipline. Unlike Job, who came under its rigorous regimen because of no fault of his own, Jonah was exercised thereby because of his disobedience. He knew the will of God for his life and fled from it. Imagine a human heart that desired to run away ''from the presence of the Lord'' (Jonah 1:3). Tempest was his lot, within his own soul as well as in the sea, and terror the lot of his companions, until he testified of his failure.Who can appreciate or analyze his feelings as he fell into the raging sea and into the fearsome sepulchre of the great fish? Darkness, utter despair, imminent death were his portion. ''Out of the belly of hell'' (2:2) he cried unto the Lord in penitence and faith, saying, ''I am cast out of thy sight; yet I will look again toward thy holy temple. . . . When my soul fainted within me I remembered the Lord. . . . I will pay that I have vowed. Salvation is of the Lord'' (2:4, 7, 9). Despairing, fainting, repentant he

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returned unto the Lord, Who delivered him from certain death (2:10), and called him the second time (3:1). In contrast with Job's long darkness, the discipline of Jonah was relatively brief, dramatic, and equally effective. It ''worked together for good,'' for he learned, ''Salvation is of the Lord'' (2:9).

   In eminent degree the Apostle Paul knew this discipline. At Damascus' gate he had been clearly called to salvation and service (Acts 9:3-6; 26:12-20). He had served the Lord in many cities and countries, through many dangers on land and sea, at the risk of his life; and had been very successful in that service. One would be inclined to expect that in the latter days of his strenuous life there would be some respite from its rigours; on the contrary, matters seemed to grow worse. There was the tumult in Jerusalem (Acts 21:27—22:24); and these were the successive prisons of Jerusalem (22:24), Caesarea (23:23—26:32), and Rome (28:16).

   Obviously, the Christians of his day were perplexed by Paul's long imprisonment, with the slight possibility of his ever again being free. Apparently the believers at Philippi had expressed their anxiety and apprehension, to which he made reply: ''But I would ye should understand, brethren, that the things which happened unto me have fallen out rather unto the furtherance of the gospel'' (Phil. 1:12). Injustice, intrigue, insolence, imprisonment, all that ''happened'' had advanced the real purpose of Paul's life!

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   He had learned that discipline in lesser degree in days gone by. The first plot against his life had showed him the providence of God (Acts 9:22-25); the perversity of the sorcerer had given opportunity for the power of God to be shown (13:6-12); the persecution at Antioch had pointed the Gentiles to the Saviour (13:44-49); the prison of Philippi had provided opportunity to witness to prisoners and jailers (16:25-34). In each case he could affirm the testimony of David, ''Many are the afflictions of the righteous: but the Lord delivereth him out of them all'' (Ps. 34:19). The imprisonment in Rome provided effective witness to the guard (Phil. 1:13). It has given encouragement to fearful fellow believers, even until our day (1:14). It has shed light on the deepest truth of the gospel: ''to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain'' (1:21). It provided the opportunity, by the inspiration of God's Holy Spirit, to write the Prison Epistles. Truly, all that ''happened'' furthered the gospel. It worked together for good!

   What ''happens'' to you and me may not be envy, neglect, loss, darkness, disobedience, despair, narrow horizons; but in the ''center of the circle of the will of God'' all that happens comes ''from His dear hand.'' God means it for good; He is pitiful and merciful. It works together for good; it furthers His purpose for our life. ''Salvation is of the Lord!'' we are taught in the discipline of disability.

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Fulfillment

''My words . . . which shall be fulfilled in their season.''

''Not one word hath failed of all He hath promised—all came to pass.''

Fulfillment!

Ah, 'tis a lovely word!

After all the weary years,

After all the pain and tears,

After all the doubts and fears,—

Fulfillment!

Fulfillment!

Yes, every promise kept!

After waiting, longing, dread,

After brightest hopes have fled,

Lo, it is done, as He hath said—

Fulfillment!

Fulfillment!

Such as ye cannot contain!

Good measure pressed-down, running o'er,

All He hath shown and so much more,

A rending sky—an open door!

Fulfillment!

                      —Frances Metcalfe

Chapter Twenty  ||  Table of Contents