The density of the apostle Paul’s words makes some of them accessible only to the degree that life’s experience prepares us to hear them well. As he exults in the relationship-restoring labors of Christ, Paul brings even our suffering into those gifts of God about which he is notably unembarrassed:
And not only that, but we also boast in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.
Suffering produces endurance. How else could we gain such stamina? There is no leisurely access ramp to such deep waters, only a steep and rocky one whose stones turn ankles and puncture soft skin.
This endurance, in God’s economy, produces that character at which we are otherwise singularly unadept. Love—that perduring divine affection for people who merit nothing of it—molds this character into hope-giving shapes. This love is not given sparingly, but rather is poured out in our hearts by God’s very Spirit, now given to accompany us on our unaccomodating, endurance-mongering path.
Such is our lot. Paul finds reason to exult in it. So does the reader who has exhausted all other promising roads to endurance, character, and hope, finding that each one disappears into the bush leaving no recourse but to return again to more sturdy beginnings.
Canter Bridge 