It Is Better to Suffer for Doing Good

It is better, if it is God’s will, to suffer for doing good than for doing evil. (I Peter 3:17 NIV)

Notice that Peter is admitting two things here.  First, he is admitting that if someone is suffering, it could be because they are “doing good”.  It is fantasy to believe that every bit of suffering we see in the world is payback for doing evil.  Job’s friends made this error.  Living according to God’s standards can cause problems in this sad world, sometimes bringing ridicule and sometimes persecution.  History books are filled with stories of martyrs, and anyone who sees another’s suffering must not conclude that karma is working its magic.  Following God brings its own challenges.  "If in this life only we have hope in Christ, we are of all men most miserable." (I Corinthians 15:19)

But Peter is also implying something else in this verse: some of the things we suffer are in fact a result of our own actions. We might find ourselves in financial straits from improper use of credit. We might find ourselves in bad health from improper lifestyles. Our family lives might be atrocious because of lack of respect.  We might find ourselves in trouble with the law for dishonesty.  It would not be “blaming the victim” to admit that.

Peter’s point is a good one.  In this world we are going to have trials and woes.  That being the case, it's better to suffer as a result of our righteousness.

Tribute to My Favorite World War II Veteran

There is a generation that curses its father,

And does not bless its mother. (Proverbs 30:11)

* * * *

Sixty seven years ago in France the shape of the post World War II map hung in the balance.  In a last, desperate attempt to break the back of the Allied advance, Adolph Hitler scraped up the last of his reserves and threw everything he had at his enemy’s lines.  The battle became known as The Battle of the Bulge.  Had Hitler succeeded, the map of Europe today would be the worse for it.

At the 50-year commemoration of that event, I remembered something my father had said several times when I was small, but had never registered on my young mind.  He had mentioned that he was in France and Belgium during World War II.  I decided to call and ask him some questions.

Nick Cacchio is of the generation that suffered the double whammy of a devastating depression and the most colossal war in history.  This is the generation that saved the world for freedom, built the strongest economy in history, spread American culture around the world, and hung steadfast as the world watched the collapse of Communism.

Every president from Dwight Eisenhower to George H. W. Bush was a veteran of World War II.  Lyndon Johnson, who was a Congressman during that war, answered the call and ended up with a unit in the Far East.  Only a direct order from Franklin Roosevelt persuaded him to go back to Washington.  John Kennedy’s valor with his famous PT 109 is almost legendary, as are the elder George Bush’s brushes with death as a fighter pilot.

But there is a funny thing about that generation - the almost unanimous refusal to take any credit.  One of my uncles, an older brother of my father, served as a military policeman in the US Army.  He did his job, survived the war, came home and lived quietly in a small Pennsylvania village.  When he died, the family was sorting through his things and they were shocked at the medals and decorations that he had earned but had never talked about.  Said one of his sisters, "He felt that everybody had a job to do and that he was just doing his part."

So I called Dad and I asked him if he was there at the Battle of the Bulge. "Yep," he said.  "I was there."  What was it like?  What happened? He laughed his throaty little laugh and said, "Well, we were waiting around for something to happen, and something happened.  I remember all the planes flying overhead and all the troops coming in.  It was cold out, but we were young and we could handle it."

"We could handle it."  Typical generational understatement.   Just doing what had to be done for home, country, and the girl next door.

Tom Brokaw calls the GI Generation the greatest generation, and the man has a point.  I could segue now into trite Bible quotations about no greater love than to lay down one's life and so forth, but instead I am rather sad.  Comparing my generation with theirs leaves me empty.  How can one compare my generation's "accomplishments" with those of the GI Generation?

When I called my father in December of 1994 to talk about the events of fifty years earlier, I kidded him about being alive for one third of our history as a nation.  Perhaps he had never thought of it that way before.  Little did I know that within just a few years' time our lives would be thrown into a tizzy by some brash folks flying hijacked airplanes, and within just a few years after that our economic viability as a nation would be challenged.  It is during such days that we can be served well by those who walked before us and the sense of history they imparted.  Hopefully my generation also will be willing to make the sacrifices necessary to preserve our freedom for the sake of our posterity.

It is a shame to put the greatest generation out to pasture.  They have so much to teach those to whom the torch now passes. 

Where Is Your Country?

In an article a few year's back about George Schultz, National Review’s Jay Nordingler describes a snippet of his interview with this former Secretary of State:
 

“At Schultz’s side is an illuminated globe, and this prompts me to ask him about a test he would give to new U.S. Ambassadors. ‘They’d been through all kinds of exams and so on – confirmation – and I’d say to them, “Well, there’s just one more test you have to pass.”’ They’d usually groan. ‘”You have to walk over to that globe and demonstrate to me that you can identify your country.” And, inevitably, they would point to the country to which they had been assigned’ “The correct answer of, of course, was the United States – that was their country. And Schultz’s moral was, ‘Never forget what country you’re representing.’”

I flinched when I read about Schultz’s final test. For a flag-waving patriot such as myself, it does not come easy to admit that I am a citizen of a greater country than the nation of my birth. In my head I know all the statements of Jesus and Paul about where our true citizenship is, and sometimes my heart even goes there. But I am what I am, and I know there is honor loving the people who are my neighbors and countrymen.

Paul himself said of his countrymen:

“I have great sorrow and unceasing anguish in my heart.  For I could wish that I myself were cursed and cut off from Christ for the sake of my brothers, those of my own race, the people of Israel.” (Romans 9:2-4 NIV)

But then I recall the same guy saying this:

“We are therefore Christ's ambassadors, as though God were making his appeal through us.” (2 Corinthians 5:20 NIV)

“But our citizenship is in heaven. And we eagerly await a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ.” (Philippians 3:20 NIV) 

In Hebrews we read about the heroes of the Old Testament:

“They admitted that they were aliens and strangers on earth. People who say such things show that they are looking for a country of their own. If they had been thinking of the country they had left, they would have had opportunity to return. Instead, they were longing for a better country-a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them.” (Hebrews 11:13-16 NIV)

 And Jesus said:

“My kingdom is not of this world.” (John 18:36) 

 The kingdom they describe will never disappoint us, and while we may be citizens of whatever political entity is ours by birth or choice – and those nations deserve our respect – our eternal citizenship lies elsewhere. That is the greater country we must represent to a world increasingly foreign to who we are.