by Bert Williams

Everyone wants to avoid difficulty. That’s just the way we human beings are. We don’t like pain; we don’t want trouble. Smooth sailing through life is our goal. Fortunately for us, we rarely manage it. I say fortunately because nearly every problem we confront, every disappointment we suffer, has the potential to enrich our lives.

I bought an audio CD not long ago. It is a 1992 recording of the last concert conducted by the late American composer and conductor Leonard Bernstein. He was ill at the time, and never recovered his strength. In this concert, Bernstein conducted the Boston Symphony Orchestra on a warm afternoon at the Tanglewood Music Center, the orchestra’s summer home in the Berkshire Hills of western Massachusetts. The last piece on the program was Beethoven’s Seventh Symphony.

Beethoven’s Torment

Beethoven began to go deaf in 1796, at age 26, and was suffering serious hearing loss when he completed the Seventh Symphony in 1812. For a musician, deafness seems to be among the worst possible fates, and Beethoven was tormented by it. 

The printed information with the CD reveals that Bernstein conducted much of his final performance while leaning heavily against the back rail of the conductor’s podium, often struggling for breath. His legendary high-energy style was only a memory. He barely hung on until the symphony’s final notes. But his personal engagement with the orchestra, according to witnesses, was extraordinary. The performance has become a landmark in the world of classical music.

I don’t believe Beethoven would have composed such music under easier circumstances. Neither do I think the Boston Symphony would have produced this performance without the setting that Bernstein’s personal physical struggle created that summer afternoon.

Beethoven scholar and biographer Gail Altman insists that Beethoven’s deafness had a powerful influence on his music. “He was a genius in music long before he lost his hearing,” Altman writes. Nevertheless, “losing his social interaction caused Beethoven to look within himself, to delve to greater depths, to see answers to profound spiritual questions, to find strength within himself and his faith . . . and all those things are reflected in his music.” Altman continues, “Perhaps he was more sensitive to the suffering of others; or grew more philosophical and introspective; or became closer to God, and so was able to create music that reflected that.”

Fortunate Mourners

Jesus spoke of this sort of experience in Matthew 5:2-12. Here He speaks of people in hard times. They are poor in spirit; they mourn. But Jesus insists that these people are blessed. How strange. It appears they need blessings, yet Jesus says they already have them. The Amplified Bible indicates it is no mistake. Other possible translations of the original Greek word include happy, to be envied, spiritually prosperous—even fortunate!

I have another recording of Beethoven’s Seventh Symphony. The Royal Philharmonic Orchestra is one of the world’s best, and in some ways its performance is more polished than the Boston Symphony’s. But there is a luminous quality to Boston’s performance that the royals do not match.

There is one spot in the symphony’s first movement where the vast stage filled with musicians becomes quieter and quieter until there is a single, fragile, unison note that sounds only from the woodwind section. This note is answered on the same pitch with just a whisper from the violin section. Then there is nothing but silence. Again comes the single woodwind note. Then, again, the silence. Then the whispered answer from the strings.

I get the feeling that the Royal Philharmonic musicians are just going through the motions at this spot so they can get on with the real music. But when I listen to the Boston musicians under Bernstein’s baton, those periods of silence, surrounded by those single fragile notes, create a poignant shining moment. It is some of the most meaningful music of the entire symphony.

A Startling Discovery

In Romans 5, the apostle Paul writes something truly startling. “We also rejoice in our sufferings,” he insists, “because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope (Romans 5:3-4, NIV). Now play that backwards and what do you get? Hope is the product of a developing character, character comes through perseverance, and perseverance is developed through suffering. This is the unavoidable conclusion: Suffering produces hope!

We see a similar progression of thought in James 1:2-5: “Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives generously to all.”

Again, follow the cause-and-effect sequence: God gives wisdom to the person who is mature; maturity is developed through perseverance; perseverance is developed through the testing of faith; faith is tested by trials. The short version: trials produce wisdom.

The Partnership of Pain and Pleasure

In a curious way, our difficulties can actually increase our joy in life. I learned this when I lived for several years in the East African country of Kenya. Our home was near the equator at 6,000 feet elevation. It was never hot and never cold. Leaves clung to the trees year round. Some people called it eternal spring.
I now live in Nebraska, and I can tell you that, beyond any doubt, the intense sweet pleasure of springtime following a long cold winter is far superior to a year-long springtime.

The fourth century theologian Augustine wrote, “Everywhere a greater joy is preceded by a greater suffering.” This is the reality: pain and pleasure do not work against each other; they work together to enrich our lives.

Eternity in Sight

But aren’t there times when pain and suffering simply become too much to bear? Is it always true that pain and trouble benefit us? What about suffering that totally flattens us?

Most of Christ’s earliest disciples ultimately experienced trouble so intense that it killed them. We know from historical records that John the Baptist and James the son of Zebedee were beheaded. Tradition has it that Peter was crucified during the persecution of Nero; Andrew preached in Greece and the Ukraine before being crucified; Philip preached in Turkey and was martyred in Hierapolis; Bartholomew preached in the area of present-day Armenia, Turkey, Iraq, Iran, and India, and was eventually skinned alive alongside the Caspian Sea; Thomas preached in Iraq, Iran, and India, and was speared to death near Madras; Matthew preached in Ethiopia and then in Persia, where he was martyred; James the son of Alpheus was a martyr in Egypt; Simon the Zealot preached in Egypt, as well as in Persia where he was hacked to death; Thaddeus preached in Iraq and Iran, then joined Simon the Zealot in Persia, where he was also martyred. So there you have it: clear, specific evidence of the advantages of following Jesus!

The simple truth is this: Jesus never promised life for a Christian would be easy. He did promise that, somehow, even in the midst of catastrophe, His followers would still be blessed, happy, and fortunate.

In one of his prophecies, Isaiah briefly addressed God: “You will keep in perfect peace him whose mind is steadfast, because he trusts in you.” Isaiah then turned his attention to his readers: “Trust in the Lord forever, for the Lord, the Lord, is the Rock eternal” (Isaiah 26:3-4, NIV). That last word is the key. The ultimate solution to the problem of human pain and suffering is eternity.

What Matters Most

Usually, in this life, if we trust God, hang on, and work hard, things will get better. But it’s not always the case. Beethoven’s deafness, for example, was not cured. Nevertheless, God’s promise is that, whatever we face in this life, even if things do not get better, there is eternity beyond. That is what matters most.
Fuller Theological Seminary Professor Marguerite Shuster explains why this matters so much:

We now live in an age where failure to take God’s promised future seriously leaves us with nothing but this life, which gives our losses and sorrows here such ultimate importance that we are robbed of the hope that we need . . . If there is nothing else, today’s suffering and sacrifices can indeed feel overwhelming; it can seem that to risk present loss would be to risk everything. But if this is not the end, rather the crucial beginning, everything changes and we can better dare to be brave.

“I am convinced,” wrote Paul, “that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Rom. 8:38-39, NIV).

Paul, himself, eventually suffered a martyr’s death, and he knew all along that things might not get better during his earthly life. But Paul believed that life here on planet earth is not the end; it is the beginning. And so, while shackled to the cold stone walls of a Roman dungeon, from which he would not be released, Paul wrote in his letter to the Philippians, “Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus” (Phil. 3:13-14, NIV).

God did not heal Beethoven’s hearing. The composer finally went totally deaf, and in that state he composed his monumental Ninth Symphony. The famous melody of the symphony’s final movement is known the world over as “Ode to Joy.” For Beethoven, for the apostle Paul, and for countless others, spiritual joy in this life and eternity beyond transcend all the pain and trouble the world can offer.

Bert Williams is editor of Connected magazine and editorial director of Christian Record Services for the Blind.