Anyone who has lived any amount of time realizes that life, at its best, is hard. Our fallenness, combined with that of the world, makes trudging through our days as a maddening experience of unfulfilled desires and expectations, both of self and others. Why is it so hard! We get lost and confused in the mire of details, difficult relationships, disappointment with our selves, and a general sense of meaningless of it all. Surely, the writer of Ecclesiastes knew something of this condition. Depression of some sort is not far from each of us.

In all of this, God is not far from us, but can seem so remote. What is wrong with us that makes for our feeling that we are so distant from Him? Why doesn’t He show up? Why is life so confusing? Why am I angry so much of the time? These and more questions abound in our thoughts and we feel them in our emotions.

God’s work in us is preciously about all these things. Because we see so dimly the things that are glorious about Him, our thinking is so limited to a version of reality that is grossly inadequate (1 Cr. 13:12).  We are in constant need of reorientation. Our gracious Lord is aware of all these things about us and has provided an adequate way to address them (Ps. 103:14). Ultimately, all that is a mess about us is addressed in the gospel of Christ. But how does this get kneaded down into our hearts, so that transformation happens in a way that we can live well in the midst of confusion, chaos, and disappointment?

All this struck me when recently reading a portion in If I had Lunch with C.S. Lewis.  The author, Alister McGrath, describes a scene in Lewis’ book, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader.  Eustace, a selfish pursuer of temporal gain, a complainer, and arrogant child, who is constantly demanding “his rights,” has become a dragon. “Sleeping on a dragon’s hoard with greedy, dragonish thoughts in his heart, he had become a dragon himself” (Voyager of the Dawn Treader).  You see, Eustace had left the group and stumbled upon a treasure trove of gold. He had stuffed his pockets with as much as he was able to carry while also slipping a stone-studded bracelet on his arm. The very treasure he thought would give him “quite a decent time here” now caused him great pain.

The bracelet which had fitted very nicely on the upper arm of a boy was far too small for the thick, stumpy foreleg of a dragon. It had sunk deeply into his scaly flesh and there was a throbbing bulge on each side of it. He tore at the place with his dragon’s teeth but could not get it off. (Voyage of the Dawn Treader)

All attempts on Eustace’s part to remove either the bracelet or the scales from his dragon exterior were fruitless. He could not re-convert himself back into a boy. He was now a prisoner of his desires, more alone than ever, on an unfamiliar island.

McGrath writes:

Lewis wants us to understand that the story of Eustace is one of self-centerdness and self-absorption. In the end he becomes trapped within his own story. He cannot break free from it.

Aslan, the Christ-figure in the story, uses his giant claws to painfully strip away the dragon scales and return Eustace to a human.

Well, he peeled the beastly stuff right off---just as I thought I’d done myself the other three times, only they didn’t hurt—and there it was lying on the grass: only ever so much thicker, and darker, and more knobby-looking than the others had been. Then he caught hold of me—I didn’t like that much for I was very tender underneath now that I’d no skin on—and threw me into the water. It smarted like anything but only for a moment. After that it became perfectly delicious and as soon as I started swimming and splashing I found that all the pain had gone from my arm. And then I saw why. I’d turned into a boy again. (Voyage of the Dawn Treader).

The narrative strongly illustrates grace in its violence against sin. The painful ripping away of that which enslaved Eustace was Aslan’s merciful action in his behalf. Eustace was in bondage to the very things that he desired most. Grace stripped those away and revealed a new boy.

We must always be careful to put before our eyes the violent nature of God’s grace. He is a skillful surgeon intent on removing from us all that would deprive us of joy. Our natural cravings are the very things that many times seem so plausibly delightful and good for us. God, as a wise and gracious Father, prunes away from us those very things that rob us of enjoyment in Him—enjoyment for which we are created. We must be equally careful in seeing that our circumstances are either drawing us toward becoming a dragon or as God’s means of clawing away scales of the bondage to sin.

An interesting passage is found in Zechariah 13:8-9. Though I won’t labor the eschatology contained in it, I think in it is a profound example of transforming grace. The passage is about fiery circumstances that God puts in our way to draw us to call on Him in prayer—and by this a profound lesson on the transformation of His grace.

In the whole land, declares the LORD, two thirds shall be cut off and perish, and one third shall be left alive. And I will put this third into the fire, and refine them as one refines silver, and test them as gold is tested. They will call upon my name, and I will answer them. I will say, 'They are my people'; and they will say, 'The LORD is my God.'"

The one third in this text represents God’s remnant—his faithful, imperfect, weak people, who do not pray with the kind of discipline and desperation and hunger for God that they should. Out of His great love, God saved them from being cut off. And then, as part of his love for them, He put them in the fire to be tested and refined. This is normal Christianity.

Here are the points that we can draw from this text and apply to our understanding of violent grace:

    •  If we are not praying the way we should (dependently, humbling, in faith), God will likely bring about circumstances that take you to your knees.
    • One of the main ways God awakens earnest prayer in his children is the refining fires of suffering. All this is a part of His violent grace.

 

The apostle Peter gives us further insight:

Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery trial when it comes upon you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice insofar as you share Christ's sufferings, that you may also rejoice and be glad when his glory is revealed. (1 Peter 4:12-13).

What is it that God wants to see change in his people? Zechariah 13:9: “I will test them as gold is tested. They will call upon my name, and I will answer them.”

God puts his people through the fire to awaken earnest prayer. Please don’t be among the number who, when suffering (which is designed to teach us to pray), give up on prayer. To do so is to jettison the transforming work of grace in your life. Don’t say, “If this is the way God treats His children, then I’m out!” Some enter suffering and difficulty and, instead of learning to call on God, run from or accuse God. Zechariah 13:9 is in the Bible as God’s sweet promise to help you profit from suffering.

Are you struggling in some particular way? Do you see it as God’s call to pray? Do you tend to pray when you suffer or face trials? Or do you turn away from God, believing you deserve better? Do you see trials as an expression of God’s love to call you to Himself? Do you see them as necessary in transforming you?

My prayer is that we, as with Eustace, might be seen as he was by Edmund. “I think you’ve seen Aslan,” said Edmund. (Voyage of the Dawn Treader)