Waiting, Smiling People
Peter
Ackroyd said the thirteen year-old Charles Dickens was stronger than
his companions when he had survived his fears and come through his
bitter childhood experience of the darker side of London life. Having
come through it, “actually lent to him a certain sense of power and of
authority. He knew more than his companions, and this sense of having had a larger and deeper experience may well have spurred him forward.”
Yes,
but what exactly is it that made Dickens stronger and spurred him on?
It wasn’t just the experience of life in a blacking factory, cut off
from his family—it was the fact that he had survived it intact! He now
knew things about himself that he could not have known had he not gone
through this time of trial. Others had sunk without trace in such
circumstances; their fears had proved to be correct. The fears had said,
“You’ll collapse, you won’t be able to take the pressure!” They did,
and they couldn’t. But not young Charles Dickens! Whatever his fears had
whispered to him in his lonely attic at night or during the long
humiliating days at the factory—they were wrong! He now knew it! He knew
it in the only way you can know such things—he’d come through it
triumphant and that knowledge by experience was strength and it made him
believe that whatever was ahead he could handle it!
I
suppose that for most of us there were times when we feared we’d not
make it, that the pressure was too great or the loneliness was too long
or the hurt too intense. Some of us came out the other side and not only
did we feel the ecstasy of relief there was the added awareness of an
inner strength. “I’m still on my feet! Fancy that!”
When
we came out of the blacking factory into the light and looked around
there were waiting people, smiling at the sight of us, their eyes
shining with admiration; not only glad for us but proud of us and giving
God praise for doing such a wonderful thing in and with us.
There’s
something of that in 1 Peter 1:7. The text is not just as
straightforward as the major versions make it appear. The text says they
were going through trial so that “the testing” of their faith might
result in praise and glory and honour all round. Precisely the same
phrase is found in James 1:3 where the testing process is in view. In James it isn’t their faith that works patience; it’s the trying
of their faith that works patience and this might be Peter’s point—the
testing experience will finally result in praise and honour. Faith is
the “material” being tested but it might be the testing process that he
has in mind.
How
many metal-workers must have smiled when they subjected this substance
to the fire and grinned all over at the proof that what they tested was
truly gold. Gold is subjected to testing and the result is the proof of
its preciousness. Christian faith is subjected to testing and is proved
genuine and God and right thinking people recognize that faith is much
more precious than gold.
Maybe,
in the end, we’re not to separate the testing from the faith and that
Peter is talking about “a proved-genuine” faith; not an untried faith
but a faith that has come out the other side of the furnace. To know
that you have a faith that can survive the fire is not just another
piece of information—it is a kind of knowing, a kind
of knowledge that becomes part of who you are. Some information you can
live well without and some enables you to be and live profoundly
better.
To know that God has protected you by faith
(1:5) gives you a fine sense of present strength and courage for the
future for while you recognize that God has been there, always been
there, keeping you and guarding you, he didn’t do it by magic. He didn’t do it without you; he did it with you and in you and through you. It was always him but it was never him without you! You were no puppet! If anyone asks you how you made it through you’d remind them without any hesitation or reservation that it was all God’s doing. But you’d rejoice within knowing he chose not to do it without you!
God bless and keep you who are going through the fire.