Suffering in the Flesh and Ceasing from Sin - Glenn Conjurske

Suffering in the Flesh and Ceasing from Sin

by Glenn Conjurske

Brief Abstract of a Sermon Preached on June 16, 1996

“Forasmuch then as Christ hath suffered for us in the flesh, arm yourselves likewise with the same mind: for he that hath suffered in the flesh hath ceased from sin.” (I Pet. 4:1).

Christ suffered for our sins, and we are to arm ourselves with the same mind—-to prepare to suffer for our sins also. He suffered for our sins to deliver us from the guilt of them. That is done, and we have nothing more to do about it. Still, we must suffer to be freed from the power of those sins.

Why so? Why must we suffer in the flesh? Because such is the propensity of our natures to hold to our own ways, that nothing short of suffering in the flesh is effectual. There is no easier way—-no higher life, no deeper life, no holiness by faith, no second blessing—-nothing which can take the place of suffering in the flesh. In spite of all of these easy doctrines of sanctification, it will remain the truth that it is he that has suffered in the flesh that has ceased from sin. You can have a hundred fathoms of deeper life—-and a hundred second blessings too—-but you’ll need some suffering in the flesh on top of it all, if you’re going to cease from sin. Suffering in the flesh is God’s way to cure men of sin. This is what he prescribes to cure our children of their evil ways. Modern psychologists don’t believe in it. Discipline him, yes, but not corporally. When little Johnny talks back to his mother, and gets the satisfaction of making her feel bad, and of letting her know how evil she is, she will make him sit in the corner for fifteen minutes. Well, these little folks are good accountants, and he “casts up the account,” as they used to call it, and he decides it was worth it. The price wasn’t very high. He’ll do it again tomorrow. But when his eyes are red with weeping, and his tail end is smarting, he is likely to have another thought. There is something about suffering in the flesh which is effectual in turning us away from sin. And because we have such a propensity to continue in sin, this is often the only effectual way.

And knowing that it is the way of the Lord to do so, whenever suffering comes upon us, it is very natural to inquire, What is the cause of this suffering? What evil have I done? This is very natural, and the common experience of the human race. As soon as the widow’s son dies, she demands of Elijah, “Art thou come to call my sin to remembrance?” It is the common experience of men that suffering—-especially that which is severe or sudden—-does call sin to remembrance, and this is the chief value of suffering, as a tool in the hands of God to cure us of our sinning. More on that in a little bit.

When affliction or suffering strikes us, we naturally examine ourselves, and we ought to. We ought to seek to know whether this suffering is for sin. Not that we should assume it is, for it may not be—-but there is a good likelihood it may be. “The spirit of man is the candle of the Lord, searching all the inward parts of the belly.” This is the conscience, and we ought to let this candle do its work, let it search us, and see if there be any wicked way in us. We ought to do this at all times, of course, but especially when suffering strikes us. If we may look up and say with Job, “I do not know why the Lord is smiting me, but I am innocent, and I will hold fast my integrity,” very well. But make sure you do a thorough search. And don’t fail to understand that even if there is no particular transgression involved, God may use suffering in the flesh as a general tonic, to purge us of our selfishness and pride and contentiousness and rashness and self-sufficiency.

And remember, it is your business to search yourself when trouble strikes you, and Job’s business to search Job. Job’s friends knew Job’s heart better than Job did, and evidently better than God did, and they were quick to assume that the smiting was for some hidden sin, but this was none of their business, and they were wrong. They may have been nearer the mark if they had plainly seen some sin in Job, but to merely assume it, where they saw nothing, betrays a wrong spirit.

But again, if God is actually chastening you for some particular sin, the reason should not be hard to find, unless you have fortified yourself against your conscience with a good deal of sophistry. When you chasten your child, he knows why you’re doing it, and when God chastens you for sin, you will generally know the reason. The fact is, you knew it already, before he stretched out his hand to smite you. The issue was already upon your conscience, but you tried to put it off. And so long as things went on smoothly, you thought you had succeeded. You thought God was going to wink at the thing. “Prosperous men seldom mend their faults,” an old proverb says, and this is surely true. So long as things go on smoothly, you suppose God is no more concerned about that thing than you are. But as soon as his hand strikes you, you think instinctively, “Oh, I’m afraid God is going to hold me accountable for this after all.” You rise up and put it away, and pray God to remove his afflicting hand. And so he that has suffered in the flesh has ceased from sin.

And conscience generally speaks true at times like this. When the Lord caught Moses in the inn and sought to kill him, his wife knew exactly what to do. The reason that she knew exactly what to do is that her conscience was at war with her on the point. How was it that her conscience was at war with her? Listen, I can’t give you an infallible account of what happened to bring this about, but I can give you a pretty good description as to how it happened, for human nature is the same in all of us. She, of course, had known all along what needed to be done, but flattered herself that God would not require it of her. She had no doubt done her best to put it away out of her mind, but the sudden plight of Moses called her sin to remembrance. The moment of calamity is the moment of truth, and all her vain notions about getting away with this thing vanished as soon as the “suffering in the flesh” fell upon them.

Moses’ wife, you understand, was a Gentile, but no doubt when Moses had married her, he had explained to her all about the circumcision. She no doubt opposed it. It was all right for Moses if he pleased, but not for a little baby. “That’s cruel and barbarous, and we won’t do that to our little baby.” Moses, of course, was determined to do it, and they no doubt had a few discussions about it. Well, she knew she was with child, and she no doubt prayed the whole nine months that it would be a little girl, but God was as determined to have his way about this as she was to have hers, and when the child was born, it was no little girl. So, having lost her plea with God, she renewed the battle with Moses, and she no doubt wept, and begged, and reproached, and pouted, and finally got her way. Moses yielded to her, and the boy was not circumcised.

Now so long as things went on smoothly, the whole matter could be swept under the rug, and almost forgotten. Not quite forgotten, for conscience never quite forgets. But it can go on easy, so long as things go on smoothly. But in the inn by the way, the “suffering in the flesh” came suddenly upon them, and she knew exactly the reason for it. Though she had gone on for years thinking—-hoping, at any rate—-that God would never call her to account for this, now the moment of truth was come, and conscience, long resisted and ignored, was allowed to speak. She listened, and obeyed, making haste to take off her son’s foreskin any way she could, with whatever came to hand at the moment, which happened to be a sharp stone. She yielded the point, as we sinners are very apt to do, with casting one last reproach about it in Moses’ teeth, “Surely a bloody husband art thou to me”—-but she had yielded the point to God, and the Lord let Moses go.

Now this is how suffering in the flesh causes us to cease from sin. It does not teach us what to do. It assumes we know that already. When you spank your child, he knows what he is being spanked for. The Lord’s smiting hand does not teach us what to do, but it moves us to do it. And such is our propensity to have our own way, that usually nothing but suffering in the flesh will move us to give it up. You did a little dirt once upon a time, and then swept it all under the rug, and think to go on without ever taking care of it. It’s a little thing, and it doesn’t really matter to God. So you would like to think, at any rate, and every year which he gives you of ease and prosperity tends to confirm you in thinking so. You know the little pile of dirt is under the rug, and you know God knows it, but every year he gives you of peace and prosperity increases your hope that God will let it pass.

Then calamity strikes. You begin to suffer in the flesh. Of course you begin to examine yourself. But you’re a stubborn case, and you say, “I don’t know why God is smiting me, but I’m sure it has nothing to do with that little pile of dirt under the rug.” You plead and cry, and determine to clean up your whole life—-to brush your teeth three times a day, and support the preacher a little better, and give a tract to your barber, everything you can think of—-and God lets you go.

Another year of prosperity confirms your hopes that God is going to wink at the dirt under the rug, but then suffering strikes again—-more severe this time than last time. Again you weep and pray and search yourself, and throw away your golf clubs, and vow to treat your wife better, and again affirm you’re sure the trouble is not the little pile of dirt under the rug.

You know, this is the way people will talk when they are not willing to yield the point to God. “Whatever may be the cause of the affliction, it’s not this little pile of dirt”—-always naming, of course, the very thing their conscience is accusing them about. But when the suffering in the flesh becomes severe enough, we yield, and turn back the carpet, and sweep out the dirt. And thus it is that he that has suffered in the flesh has ceased from sin. This is the end of the chastening of the Lord, that we might be partakers of his holiness. He knows the way that is effectual, and this is the way he takes.

Glenn Conjurske