by John Piper
The domestication of cross-bearing into coughs and cranky spouses takes the radical thrust out of Christ’s call. He is calling every believer to “renounce all that he has,” to “hate his own life” (Luke 14:33, 26), and to take the road of obedience joyfully, no matter the loss on this earth. Following Jesus means that wherever obedience requires it, we will accept betrayal and rejection and beating and mockery and crucifixion and death. Jesus gives us the assurance that if we will follow him to Golgotha during all the Good Fridays of this life, we will also rise with him on the last Easter day of the resurrection. “Whoever loses his life for my sake and the gospel’s will save it” (Mark 8:35). “Whoever hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life” (John 12:25).
Do We Need Martyr Models?
The question about martyrdom is dangerous given the new rise of terrorism in the twenty-first century. There is a fundamental difference between Christian martyrs and those who have gained notoriety through terrorism. First, the life of a Christian martyr is taken by those whom he wants to save. He does not fall on his own sword, and he does not use it against his adversary. Second, Christian martyrs do not pursue death; they pursue love. Christians do not advance the cause of the gospel of Christ by the use of the sword: “For all who take the sword will perish by the sword” (Matt. 26:52). Jesus said, “My kingdom is not of this world. If my kingdom were of this world, my servants would have been fighting. . . . But my kingdom is not from the world” (John 18:36). Christianity advances not by shedding the blood of others, even if it is mingled with ours. It advances by suffering to bring life, not suffering to cause death (Mark 10:45; Col. 1:24).
One of the most stunning and sobering words spoken at the second Lausanne Congress on World Evangelization in Manila in 1989 was spoken by George Otis concerning the call to martyrdom. He asked, “Is our failure to thrive in Muslim countries the absence of martyrs? Can a covert church grow in strength? Does a young church need martyr models?” Many places in the world today feel the words of Jesus with all their radical impact: To choose Christ is to choose death, or the very high risk of death. David Barrett has estimated that in 2002 approximately 164,000 Christians will die as martyrs and that the average number of Christian martyrs each year will grow to 210,000 by the year 2025.3 In the 2001 edition of World Christian Encyclopedia, he says there were 45,400,000 martyrs in the twentieth century.4
“I Am Crucified with Christ”
It’s true that taking up our cross involves a spiritual transaction by which our “old nature” or “the flesh” dies with Christ and a “new creature” comes into being. This is one way the apostle applies the call of Jesus to take up our cross. “Those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires” (Gal. 5:24). “I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me” (Gal. 2:19–20). “Our old self was crucified with him in order that the body of sin might be brought to nothing, so that we would no longer be enslaved to sin” (Rom. 6:6). “Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth. For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God” (Col. 3:2–3).
But the point of this spiritual death is not that it takes the place of a real, practical application of Jesus’ teaching to physical suffering and death but that it makes that application possible. Precisely because our old, selfish, worldly, unloving, fearful, proud self has died with Christ and a new, trusting, loving, heaven-bent, hope-filled self has come into being—precisely because of this inner death and new life, we are able to take risks, and suffer the pain, and even die without despair but full of hope.
“If They Persecuted Me, They Will Persecute You”
So we must not water down the call to suffer. We must not domesticate the New Testament teaching on affliction and persecution just because our lives are so smooth. It may be that we have not chosen to live in all the radical ways of love that God wants us to. It may be that our time of suffering is just around the corner. But it will not do to take our own comfortable lives and make them the measure of what we allow the Bible to mean.
Jesus came into the world to give his life as a ransom for many (Mark 10:45). There was a divine necessity upon him to suffer: “The Son of Man must suffer many things” (Mark 8:31; cf. Luke 17:25). Because this was his vocation, suffering also becomes the vocation of those who follow him. It is implied in the words, “As the Father has sent me, even so I am sending you” (John 20:21). And Jesus made it explicit when he said, “Remember the word that I said to you: ‘A servant is not greater than his master.’ If they persecuted me, they will also persecute you” (John 15:20). “If they have called the master of the house Beelzebul, how much more will they malign those of his household?” (Matt. 10:25).
Does His Suffering for Us Mean We Escape Suffering?
It would be easy to make a superficial mistake about the death of Christ as a substitutionary atonement. The mistake would be to say that since Christ died for me, I don’t need to die for others. Since he suffered for me, I don’t need to suffer for others. In other words, if his death is really substitutionary, shouldn’t I escape what he bore for me? How can his death be a call for my death if his death took the place of my death?
The answer is that Christ died for us so that we would not have to die for sin, not so that we would not have to die for others. Christ bore the punishment of our sin so that our death and suffering are never punishment from God. The call to suffer with Christ is not a call to bear our sins the way he bore them but to love the way he loved. The death of Christ for the sin of my selfishness is not meant to help me escape the suffering of love but to enable it. Because he took my guilt and my punishment and reconciled me to God as my Father, I do not need to cling any longer to the comforts of earth in order to be content. I am free to let things go for the sake of making the supremacy of God’s worth known.
Christ’s Death: Substitution and Pattern
Peter shows us the connection between the death of Christ as a substitution to be received and a pattern to be followed. He speaks to Christian slaves who may be mistreated by their unbelieving masters:
For what credit is it if, when you sin and are beaten for it, you endure? But if when you do good and suffer for it you endure, this is a gracious thing in the sight of God. For to this you have been called, because Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example, so that you might follow in his steps.
1 Peter 2:20–21
Notice the all-important little phrase “for you.” Christ suffered “for you.” This is the substitutionary atonement. He took our place and did for us what we could not do for ourselves. “He himself bore our sins in his body on the tree” (1 Peter 2:24). This is a work nobody else but the Son of God could do for us (Rom. 8:3). It cannot be imitated or duplicated. It happened once for all. “He has appeared once for all at the end of the ages to put away sin by the sacrifice of himself” (Heb. 9:26). This is the foundation of all our hope and joy and freedom and love. Our sins are forgiven, and we have eternal life (John 3:16; Eph. 1:7). God is for us, and nothing can separate us from him (Rom. 8:31, 35–39).
Therefore, when Peter says that Jesus “left you an example that you should follow in his steps,” he did not mean that you are called to make atonement for sin. He meant that you are called to love as Jesus did and be willing to suffer for doing right as he did. The pattern we follow is not the atonement but the love and the pain. The relationship between the two is crucial. The substitution is the foundation of the imitation, not vice versa. We do not earn our forgiveness by suffering as Jesus did. We are freed to love as Jesus did because our sins are forgiven. Because he suffered for us, we can suffer like him.
In fact, Peter says, “To this [way of suffering] you have been called.” It is our vocation. Don’t make the mistake of saying, “Oh, that was addressed to slaves with cruel masters and doe
s not apply to us.” That is a mistake because 1 Peter 3:8–9 is addressed to all believers but makes the same point: “Finally, all of you . . . do not repay evil for evil or reviling for reviling, but on the contrary, bless, for to this you were called, that you may obtain a blessing.” This is not the calling of slaves only. It is the calling of all Christians. The way Christ lived and suffered and died places a calling on us to show with our lives the supremacy of his love by living in the same way.
So Peter goes on to describe how Jesus handled unjust suffering. We are called to do it the way he did it: “He committed no sin, neither was deceit found in his mouth. When he was reviled, he did not revile in return; when he suffered, he did not threaten, but continued entrusting himself to him who judges justly” (1 Peter 2:22–23).
Arm Yourselves with This “Thought”
Then to make the call even more clear, Peter says later on, “Since therefore Christ suffered in the flesh, arm yourselves with the same thought” (1 Peter 4:1 RSV). The suffering of Christ is a call for a certain mind-set toward suffering, namely, that it is normal and that the path of love and missions will often require it. Thus, Peter says, “Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery trial when it comes upon you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you” (1 Peter 4:12). Suffering with Christ is not strange; it is your calling, your vocation. The “same kinds of suffering are being experienced by your brotherhood throughout the world” (1 Peter 5:9). This is the “thought” that we need to put on like armor, lest we be vulnerable to suffering as something strange.
Preparing for Suffering—Now!
Richard Wurmbrand endured fourteen years of imprisonment and torture in his homeland of Romania between 1948 and 1964. He had been leading a secret underground ministry when the Communists seized Romania and tried to control the church for their purposes. Wurmbrand, like the apostle Peter, stressed the tremendous need to get spiritually ready to suffer.
What shall we do about these tortures? Will we be able to bear them? If I do not bear them I put in prison another fifty or sixty men whom I know, because that is what the Communists wish from me, to betray those around me. And here comes the great need for the role of preparation for suffering which must start now. It is too difficult to prepare yourself for it when the Communists have put you in prison.
I remember my last Confirmation class before I left Romania. I took a group of ten to fifteen boys and girls on a Sunday morning, not to a church, but to the zoo. Before the cage of lions I told them, “Your forefathers in faith were thrown before such wild beasts for their faith. Know that you also will have to suffer. You will not be thrown before lions, but you will have to do with men who would be much worse than lions. Decide here and now if you wish to pledge allegiance to Christ.” They had tears in their eyes when they said yes.
We have to make the preparation now, before we are imprisoned. In prison you lose everything. You are undressed and given a prisoner’s suit. No more nice furniture, nice carpets, or nice curtains. You do not have a wife any more and you do not have your children. You do not have your library and you never see a flower. Nothing of what makes life pleasant remains. Nobody resists who has not renounced the pleasures of life beforehand.5
Paul tried to prepare his converts for suffering. Like Peter he armed them with this “thought”—that suffering is our calling. He said to the newer believers in Thessalonica, “We sent Timothy . . . to . . . exhort you in your faith that no one be moved by these afflictions. For you yourselves know that we are destined for this” (1 Thess. 3:2–3). That is, it is our calling.
Similarly, as Paul returned from his first missionary journey, he stopped at the young churches and encouraged them with this “thought.” He was “strengthening the souls of the disciples, encouraging them to continue in the faith, and saying that through many tribulations we must enter the kingdom of God” (Acts 14:22). It was important for the new believers to be “armed with this thought”: that the road to the kingdom is the Calvary road; there are many tribulations. There is a divine necessity: “We must enter” this way. It is our calling. “All who desire to live a godly life in Christ Jesus will be persecuted” (2 Tim. 3:12).
“Let Us Go to Him Outside the Camp”
The writer to the Hebrews connects the atoning work of Christ and the pattern of his suffering the same way Peter does, only with vividly different words.
So Jesus also suffered outside the gate in order to sanctify the people through his own blood. Therefore let us go to him outside the camp and bear the reproach he endured. For here we have no lasting city, but we seek the city that is to come.
Hebrews 13:12–14
Jesus suffered first in a way that we cannot: “to sanctify the people through his own blood.” The death of the Son of God is absolutely unique in its effect. But then notice the word “therefore.” Because Jesus died for us in this way, therefore let us go forth with him outside the camp and bear the abuse he endured. It does not say, since he suffered for us, therefore we can have an easy life free from suffering and abuse and danger. Just the opposite. Jesus’ suffering is the basis of our going with him and bearing the same abuse he bore.
This is above all a missionary text. Outside the camp means outside the borders of safety and comfort. Outside the camp are the “other sheep” that are not of this fold. Outside the camp are the unreached nations. Outside the camp are the places and the people who will be costly to reach and will require no small sacrifice. But to this we are called: “Let us go and bear the reproach he endured.” It is our vocation.
Bearing the Abuse He Endured in Sudan
The abuse may range from the slightest ostracism to agony of torture and death. Both are probably happening every day in our world. We hear only a tiny fraction of the “reproach he endured.” For example, Mission Frontiers carried this report in 1988.
In 1983, the Sudan was declared an Islamic republic. At that time, Islamic Sharia law was imposed on all the country’s citizens. Since then, dozens of Christian pastors have been killed and countless Christian churches burned. . . .
This past March 27 and 28 [1987], according to a 33 page report filed by Khartoum University professors Drs. Ushari Ahmad Mahmud and Suleyman Ali Baldo (both Muslims), more than 1,000 Dinka men, women, and children were slaughtered and burned to death in the western Sudan town of Diein.
The massacre erupted when 25 Christian Dinka worshipers were driven from their evening prayer service by a mob of Rizeigat Muslims wielding sticks, spears, axes, and Soviet-made Klasmnikov guns. That evening, five to seven Dinkas were murdered, and dozens of homes were burned.
Early the next morning, as many Dinkas were being loaded into rail boxcars for safe evacuation from the troubled town, hundreds of armed Rizeigats converged on the train station and began attacking the defenseless Dinkas. Burning mattresses were heaped on the top of huddled Dinkas. Others were shot, mutilated, and clubbed to death. By nightfall, more than one thousand Dinkas were dead.6
As horrible as this is, Peter said that when the fiery ordeal comes, we should not be surprised as though something strange were happening to us. We live in such relative ease that such thinking seems incomprehensible to us. But I believe God is calling us to arm ourselves with this very thought: Christ suffered outside the gate brutally and without justice, leaving us an example that we should follow in his steps.
May We Spend the Night on Death Row?
Charles Wesley gives us an example of how one might obey Hebrews 13:13 and go “outside the camp” and bear the abuse he endured. On July 18, 1738, two months after his conversion, Charles Wesley did an amazing thing. He had spent the week witnessing to inmates at the Newgate prison with a friend named “Bray,” whom he described as “a poor ignorant mechanic.” One of the men they spoke to was “a black [slave] that had robbed his master.” He was sick with a fever and was condemned to die.
On Tuesday, Wesley and Bray asked if they could be locked in overnight with the prisoners who were
to be executed the next day [this is outside the camp!]. That night they spoke the gospel. They told the men that “One came down from heaven to save lost sinners.” They described the sufferings of the Son of God, his sorrows, agony, and death.
The next day the men were loaded onto a cart and taken to Tyburn. Wesley went with them. Ropes were fastened around their necks so that the cart could be driven off, leaving them swinging in the air to choke to death.
The fruit of Wesley and Bray’s nightlong labor was astonishing. Here is what Wesley wrote:
They were all cheerful; full of comfort, peace and triumph; assuredly persuaded Christ had died for them, and waited to receive them into paradise. . . . The black [slave] . . . saluted me with his looks. As often as his eyes met mine, he smiled with the most composed, delightful countenance I ever saw.
We left them going to meet their Lord, ready for the Bridegroom. When the cart drew off, not one stirred, or struggled for life, but meekly gave up their spirits. Exactly at twelve they were turned off. I spoke a few suitable words to the crowd; and returned, full of peace and confidence in our friends’ happiness. That hour under the gallows was the most blessed hour of my life.7
Two things in this story amaze and inspire me. One is the astonishing power of Wesley’s message about the truth and love of Christ. All the condemned prisoners were converted, and they were so deeply converted that they could look death in the face (without a long period of “follow up” or “discipling”) and give up their lives with confidence that Christ would receive them. Their suffering was not for righteousness’ sake, but the same dynamics were at work to sustain them. They looked on their suffering as something they must pass through on the way to heaven, and the hope of glory was so real that they died in peace. Oh, for such power in witness!