The Actual Cure for What Really Ails You

“Light momentary affliction.”

The man who wrote those words in 2 Corinthians 4:17, the apostle Paul, experienced trials that most of us have not had to bear. His list of adversity includes imprisonments and countless beatings, often near death. 

“Five times,” he says, “I received at the hands of the Jews the forty lashes less one. Three times I was beaten with rods. Once I was stoned. Three times I was shipwrecked; a night and a day I was adrift at sea; on frequent journeys, in danger from rivers, danger from robbers, danger from my own people, danger from Gentiles, danger in the city, danger in the wilderness, danger at sea, danger from false brothers; in toil and hardship, through many a sleepless night, in hunger and thirst, often without food, in cold and exposure” (2 Cor. 11:24–27 ESV).

“And, apart from other things,” Paul says, “there is the daily pressure on me of my anxiety for all the churches” (2 Cor. 11:28 ESV).

It would be an understatement to say Paul’s life was characterized by adversity. He knew suffering, both physical and emotional. He and his companions were, as he says, afflicted in every way—but not crushed. Perplexed, but not driven to despair. Persecuted, but not forsaken. Struck down, but not destroyed.

I was thinking about Paul’s example this week as I found myself listening to some of the songs currently being featured on Christian music radio. With no malice toward any of the artists or songwriters, let me share some lyrics:

Hey God, it’s me.
I’ve been lost a little while.
Walking all these miles.
And I’m in need.
Of some direction ’cause down here it’s getting hard.
I’ve been searching near and far.
Help me believe.

Here’s another song:

Face down in the desert
My faith is weak
The heat is high, hope is dry
Can’t understand it
I’ve been climbing the branches
But I still can’t see
The higher I go, the less I know
Starting to panic

When I, when I, when I’m low
All I, all I, all I know

He’s gonna lift me up
He’s gonna fight for me
It only took a single stone to drop a philistine
When I’m in the fire
He’s next to me
When the flame is high, I know He will rescue me

One more:

I’ve been holding on for dear life,
Struggle every day and night,
On the losing end of another fight,
And I’ve done all I can do. 

I’ve been holding heavy on my shoulders,
Burdens got me weary, feeling older,
Trusting in myself got me nowhere,
So I lift my eyes to You, oh. 

My help comes from the Lord,
And I don’t have to carry this anymore.
Let the world bring me to my knees,
I’m holding on to God,
’Cause I know my God is holding on to me. 

Now let me be clear. There is biblical warrant for crying out to God in the midst of emotional distress—in our discouragement, our lack of faith, when we are weary or defeated, and when we feel as if we can’t go on. It is right and proper for us to turn our attention to the promises and character of God, to put our hope in Him. What these modern songwriters are doing lines up with what David and others did in the book of Psalms.

But the popularity of these contemporary songs points to a culture of anguish, hopelessness, and pain among God’s people. It must be that a lot of Christians are drowning in despair and looking for a solid rock on which to stand. Unlike the apostle Paul, who was pressed but not crushed, it seems many modern Christians are in a near-constant state of perplexity, doubt, and defeat. Listeners resonate with these songs because they mirror the listener’s emotional and spiritual condition.

The preponderance of these kinds of therapeutically centered songs has me thinking that many Christians in our day need to learn something the apostle Paul learned. As he sat in a Roman jail under house arrest, awaiting trial on charges of disloyalty to Rome, here’s what he wrote to the Philippians:

I have learned, in whatever situation I am, to be content. I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need. I can do all things through him who strengthens me. (Philippians 4:11–13 ESV)

I find myself wondering if, in our day, it is too easy to turn an irritation into a catastrophe. If it’s too common for an annoyance to become a trauma. If an unfulfilled longing can too quickly become a deep emotional wound.

Abigail Shrier, in her book Bad Therapy, argues that many of the emotional challenges facing young people in our day are being too easily pathologized. Ordinary sadness and nervousness, for example, are being too quickly diagnosed as severe psychiatric disorders. These diagnoses quickly become a child’s new identity.

I would suggest that her observations about our therapeutic culture are not restricted to children or adolescents.

Jesus offers the only real hope for the brokenhearted, the wounded, the guilt-ridden, the traumatized, and those who are in despair. “Come to me,” He says. “Cast your cares on me. Lay down your burdens. Put your hope in God. Know the truth, and the truth will set you free.”

I don’t want to minimize the real anguish some are wrestling with in this life. Nor do I want to simplify the solution.But I do want to suggest that however long the path, however long the journey takes, the ultimate solution for the ache in any soul is the perfect peace promised to all whose mind is stayed upon Jehovah.

Today’s light and momentary afflictions—whatever they may be—are instruments in the Redeemer’s hand, producing in us an eternal weight of glory. Like the apostle Paul, may we come to the place where we can declare, I have learned the secret. I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. 

This article is adapted from a post that first appeared on Pastor Bob Lepine’s Substack. Used by permission.