God’s not mad at you.

Tobias Crisp helps us discern what’s behind life’s afflictions.

Photo by Thomas Griesbeck on Unsplash

There is a reaction that occurs whenever something grievous or agonizing arises in our lives, which leads us to believe that such grief or agony stems from God’s distaste for us or something we’ve done. As a way to “make sense” of suffering — which, by rights, cannot be done — we take it upon ourselves to discern some sort of reason as to why our present affliction has come upon so severely. For those who belong to the Body of Christ, one of the most easily grabbed “reasons” is the notion that God is mad at them. Obviously, there is something in your distant or recent past that is now coming home to roost in the form of some time of tribulation or trouble. Such is how the logic often runs.

The good news is, however, that such notions are more than a little false. The afflictions that arise aren’t a consequence of God’s frustration. Rather, as hard as it may be to believe, they emanate from his tender, loving, merciful heart. Perhaps the best scene to help one discern this truth comes from chapter 9 of St. John’s Gospel, where the disciples come across a man “blind from birth” (John 9:1). In response, they inquire, “Rabbi who sinned this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” (John 9:2). Who’s responsible for this man’s pitiful condition? Who can we blame for this son receiving such a wrathful situation? The Twelve have reckoned that this man’s blindness was a consequence of something done in error, which the man was now forced to bear for the remainder of his days. Jesus, however, sees it differently. “It was not that this man sinned, or his parents,” the Lord corrects, “but that the works of God might be displayed in him” (John 9:3). The logic of Christ makes it plain that affliction wasn’t caused by iniquity but, instead, was the platform for the revelation of glory (1 Pet. 4:12–13).

Still, while that might relieve some of our consternation, how does that explain the unexpected and unforeseen seasons of distress and disappointment we are forced to endure? Christ was glorified through the healing of that blind man (John 9:6–7), but can our current predicament be understood in the same framework? To assist us with this concept, 17th-century English clergyman Tobias Crisp offers this insightful passage:

Yea, but are not the afflictions of believers for sin?

I answer, No: afflictions are unto believers from sin, but not for sin. What is the meaning of that, you will say? God, in afflicting believers, doth not intend to punish them, as now laying on them the desert of their sin, for that is laid upon Christ but he doth afflict them in part to be a help to preserve them from sin: I say, All afflictions to believers are to keep them from sin, rather than punishment unto them for sin. Yet, some will say, No men in the world are afflicted, but their afflictions are for sin; I answer, Yea, there are that have been. The disciples put a question to Christ, when the man was born blind; “Whether did this man sin, or his parents, that he was born blind?” Saith Christ to them, “Neither he nor his parents:” not that neither of them hath sinned, but that neither he, nor his parents had any sin, as a cause of that affliction or trial upon him; but that the power of God might be seen in him. So God, afflicting a believer, hath no respect unto sin, as if he did afflict for sin.

For my own part, I cannot see how a man can say, Christ bore all the punishment of sin, if we bear any of it ourselves. And, if Christ did not bear it all, I cannot see how Christ can be a sufficient Saviour, without some other to help him out, in that which he himself did not bear. I speak all this, beloved, the rather because when poor believers are crossed and afflicted in any kind, they are presently ready to suspect, God hath cast them off for their sins, and is angry with them for sinning against him. I say, in respect of sin he hath committed, which he thus suspects, there is not the least drop of the displeasure of God, not the fruit of such displeasure comes near him; “But every son whom I love, I rebuke and chasten,” saith the Lord.

God teeth that afflictions will purge, therefore he gives them. The father gives not his child purge to make him sick, but to take away some bad humours that made him sick, and for the prevention of diseases, or for the removal of some disease that is the father’s end in purging the child. And this is the end why God afflicts his people; not for their sins, but to take them away; that is, to prevent the hastiness and inconsiderateness of a believer, that he may not be so rash, running headstrong in his own ways, but may be the more considerate for the time to come.

It is most certainly true, beloved, that as soon as ever a person is a believer, he is so ingratiated into God, and with him, that there is nothing in the world from that instant, unto a believer, but mercy. God managing his mercy in his own way for the best to his; sometimes by the rod, as well as by sweet-meats; but still he runs in a way of mercy. “All things shall work together for good;” this is God’s way to believers. And if this could but be received of them; and that even then, when they are as gold cast into the fire, that God, all that time they are in the fire, as the prophet Malachi speaks, sits “as a refiner;” then they would be more quiet in the expectation of that purity, in which they shall come forth, when the time of their coming forth is: when you see the refiner cast his gold into the furnace, do you think he is angry with the gold, and means to cast it away? No, he sits as a refiner; that is, he stands warily over the fire, and over the gold, and looks unto it, that not one grain be lost; and when the dross is severed, he will out with it presently, it shall be no longer there. Even so Christ sits as a refiner; when once his gold shall have its dross severed, then he takes out his gold, and it becomes as gold seven times purified in the fire. (1:19–20)

The glory of God in your affliction is seen in the precise fact that God uses such affliction to refine you, demonstrating his proficiency at making something beautiful out of such deplorable materials. The image Crisp invokes is a telling one. Viewing our afflictions through the construct of a metallurgist’s dexterity with precious metals is an enlightening method for grasping the truth that God’s not mad at you. As Crisp implies, the metallurgist harbors no ill will for the metal he’s placing into the flames. The furnace isn’t there as a way to punish that hunk of gold; it’s there to purify it. Indeed, because of his fondness for that metal and of the vision he has in mind of what it is to become, he casts it into the flames in order that it may become all the more precious and lovely in his sight.

And so it is with your Heavenly Father. Your present frustration isn’t a sign that God’s mad at you. Rather, it indicates just how precious you are in his sight. Instead of leaving you where you are, he comes alongside you with the fire and soap of heaven (Mal. 3:2; cf. 1 Pet. 1:6–7) to make you into what he’s already said you are: his child. By faith, you are the son or daughter of God right now, where you stand (or sit). It is precisely because you are his child that he disciplines, chastises, shapes, and fashions you into his image (Heb. 12:5–11). Even still, until the day of his return, the Lord’s Spirit is ever ministering to us the work of Christ in order that we might be “conformed to the image of his Son” (Rom. 8:29). This, to be sure, is often painful work. But it is loving nonetheless.

Take heart, brother and sister. God’s not mad at you.

Works cited:

Tobias Crisp, Christ Alone Exalted: In the Perfection and Encouragement of the Saints, Notwithstanding Sins and Trials, edited by John Gill, Vols. 1–2 (London: John Bennett, 1832).