Well, good morning Gateway. Good morning. Good morning. Come on, can we make some noise for Jesus this morning? We are excited to be in the house of the Lord whether you are in here in the room or at Buda. Could you help me welcome those who are watching from our Buda campus, my home campus? If we don’t know each other, I’m just your Gateway cousin down south. My name is Ricky, and I get to be the campus pastor at Gateway Buda, in case you didn’t know. Now you know we got a church down in Buda, and it is awesome. We love you, and God bless everyone that is watching with us this morning.

I’ve been tasked with giving the most exciting message in this series. God woke you up. You got that $6 caramel macchiato or that “better than Folgers” in the lobby that you’re drinking. You got it, and He woke you up for this one because today we’re talking about suffering. Come on, make some noise for suffering! I’m just kidding. Everybody’s like, “Oh, wait, what did he say?” No, because nobody likes talking about suffering.

And if we’re being honest, it can be a tricky message because suffering is relative, isn’t it? Like, we’re reading through the book of Acts, and I’m convinced if some of the apostles, the disciples, and the people who were around in the early church were to listen to what we call suffering, they would probably laugh a little bit. If we’re being real, if the disciples heard what we call suffering, I think some of them would give us a specific look. They’d be looking at us a little bit like this, and it’d be a little awkward, if we’re being honest. Why? Because especially as Christians in the West, in the United States, where we’re a little comfortable, our suffering—what we call suffering—oftentimes is just minor inconveniences.

If we’re being honest, can we be real? Anybody want to be honest in the house? Okay, there’s three people ready to be honest. What we call suffering oftentimes is just minor inconveniences. Come on, you ever had a minor inconvenience happen to you, and then after that, every inconvenience after that feels deeply personal? Anybody ever been there? Right, like you spilled your coffee in the car on your way to work, and all of a sudden you feel like Beelzebub himself has been assigned to your morning. It’s a minor inconvenience. Come on, some of us are like, “I’m under spiritual attack!” No, you just need to drink more water and fall asleep before 11 p.m. “The devil is working hard!” No, don’t be dramatic. Just charge your phone; it’s like at 3%.

I’m convinced when we get to eternal glory, we’re going to have some awkward conversations with the disciples and with some of the apostles. Could you imagine it? You’re in the new heaven and new earth, and you see some people huddled around, maybe the Apostle Thomas, and he’s talking about how he went to India, how he took the gospel further than anybody. They called him doubting Thomas—not today. Everybody’s huddled around him listening to the stories, and you jump in that circle and Thomas starts talking about how he’s been speared multiple times, how he died, how he was persecuted, and how he was killed. Everybody’s like, “Oh, wow.” And then your dumb self just jumps into the conversation like, “Yeah, bro, but have you ever had a kidney stone?” Some Gen Z girl is looking at Thomas like, “It’s giving… over-dramatic.” If you don’t know what that means, ask somebody in their teenage years. The conversations we’re going to have are going to be a little awkward, if we’re being honest.

The problem is that we’ve confused comfort with calling, if we’re being transparent. The problem is that we’ve confused minor inconveniences with suffering. So when life gets hard, we think something went wrong. Can I tell you, the New Testament would have just called suffering discipleship? They would have just called it discipleship.

I want to speak to the person in the room who’s dealing with some real suffering. I want to speak to the person in the room who’s got bigger problems than your teenager trying to take pictures of you at a 0.5 angle. Anybody else got that spirit in their house? Like, get out of my face! I want to speak to the person who feels like they’re in a true season of suffering. I want to speak to the person who just got the news that the cancer came back, and you don’t know if you have enough strength left to keep going a second time. I want to speak to the person who prayed and fasted and received counseling, and yet you’re still handed a divorce that you didn’t ask for, and you’re suffering. You prayed and fasted and went to counseling, and your mental health does not seem to be getting any better, and you are suffering. I want to speak to that person in the room this morning.

If you’re taking notes, would you take notes on a piece of paper, or in your phone, or just simply say it to the person next to you? Here’s the title of this message in case you missed it: Suffer Well. Come on, turn to the person next to you and say, “Suffer well.” Turn back to that person and say, “I’m trying.”

“Suffer well”—ladies and gentlemen, that is a complete sentence: subject and predicate. Suffer well. It’s probably not what you came here to hear this morning. You’re like, “Ricky, I brought somebody with me. Can we change the subject?” It’s probably not your favorite topic this morning, but for the hope-sick heart in the room, hear the words of the Lord who loves you. Hear the challenge of the Lord, who loves you, who says, “Suffer well.” Over and over, we will see in Acts and throughout the New Testament that the followers of Jesus are given this mission by Jesus Himself. They are commissioned by God, but they keep running into criticism. They have this promise of God, but they keep running into problems. They keep running into criticism. They’re given divine opportunities, yet they keep running into human opposition.

What do you do when you are trying to live a life that God has called you to live, and you keep facing problems? How do you move forward when it feels like there’s a 500-pound barbell anchored to your soul called pain? What am I supposed to do when I’m trying to live with integrity and trying to walk a path of righteousness, and all of a sudden you hit a wall of persecution? Like, “God, You asked me to start this business. You asked me to do this thing. So why does it feel like the doors keep closing violently in my face?” “God, I’m trying to walk this thing out. I’m trying to be who You called me to be at work. I’m trying to love those around me. Why am I facing this injustice in the workplace ?” “I’m trying to do what my pastors are asking me to do. I’m gathering, I’m growing, I’m giving, I’m going. Why is my body failing me?”

Have you been there? Like, it’s one thing if the issues that we face in life—the predicaments that we face—can be traced back to bad decisions or even sin and disobedience. I can deal with that. I can deal with the consequences of that. It’s a whole other thing when I’m venturing to live this life pursuing God, and it feels like pain, problems, and persecution are pursuing me. Have you been there? I know I can’t be the only one who has faced a season where you say, “God, I’m trying to do what’s right, so what’s wrong? And I’m suffering, and I feel like I’m all by myself.”

Well, friends, this morning we look at the life of Stephen as proof positive that you can suffer well. You can suffer well. Turn with me to Acts chapter 6, verse number 8: “Now Stephen, a man full of God’s grace and power, performed great wonders and signs among the people.” And here we have Stephen, a devout man, a follower of Jesus, gifted with administration. Remember last week, if you were here? Last week we saw that the Jerusalem church was having these issues, and Stephen is one of seven men raised up to fix this problem among the distribution of food among the widows. In my imagination, I’d like to think that Stephen was operating the Jerusalem Jew Boy Burger. Come on, I’m a kid who grew up in the ’90s. So to me, I like to think of Stephen up there at the counter: “Welcome to Jew Boy Burger, home of the Jew Boy Burger, soon serving Gentiles. Can I take your order?” Come on, anybody grew up in the ’90s watching All That? Come on, some of y’all didn’t get to watch TV in the ’90s; you grew up that Christian, I get it. Or maybe Widow Burger, home of the Widow Burger, serving all the single ladies. Anyways, let me get on track.

That’s Stephen. He’s gifted with administration, and throughout Acts 6 and 7, four times it’ll tell us that Stephen is full of grace, Stephen is full of wisdom, Stephen is full of power, and Stephen is full of the Holy Spirit. Yet, here he is suffering. And friends, hear me: if you are in the middle of suffering, the question is, what are you full of? Or rather, who are you full of? Because what you are full of will eventually come out. My friends, remember Jesus said out of the abundance of the heart, the mouth speaks. That means what is inside will eventually be revealed, and nothing reveals what you are made of more than suffering. Nothing reveals what is inside of you, nothing tests your faith, quite like a season of suffering.

See, if you are full of unforgiveness in your heart, what comes out in a suffering season is bitterness and resentment toward God. Like, “Look at all I’ve done for You, why did You let me go through this?” What’s inside will come out. If you’re full of pride—if you are full of yourself—what will eventually come out in a suffering season is selfishness. You ever met somebody selfish in their pain? When you’re full of yourself, full of your pride, now everybody has to tiptoe around your pain like you’re the only one going through something. Come on, it’s “Amen” or “Ouch” this morning. You ever met anybody selfish in their pain? They feel like they’ve got to one-up you anytime you bring up your problems or anytime you’re just trying to vent. Like, “Oh my gosh, my cousin is going through pneumonia, can you pray for them?” And that person is like, “Hey, nobody prayed for me. I lost my job four days ago.” That’s because you didn’t tell anybody! This is called real talk, by the way. You meet someone mighty selfish in their pain because they’re full of themselves. It’s that same energy where they will take a picture of their hospital bracelet and upload it like, “Can’t believe nobody showed up for me. Broken heart emoji.” You didn’t tell anybody, and because you’re full of yourself, what comes out is selfishness.

If you’re full of worry and fear, what comes out in a suffering season is anxiety. What you are full of eventually comes out. They say pressure makes diamonds, but the converse of that is also true: pressure also bursts pipes. What is inside of you will eventually come out, my friends. But in the midst of the trying times, listen to me: in the midst of the trying times, if you and I, like Stephen, are full of the Holy Spirit, then what comes out is the fruit of the Spirit. Yeah, my boss may be treating me with rudeness, but I can still kill them with kindness. Come on! I may be facing an injustice in the workplace, I may be going through something, but I can still have self-control. Even though they’re lying about me, I can live full of the Holy Spirit. In the midst of grief, I can still have joy if I’m full of the Holy Spirit. What comes out is the fruit of the Spirit, and we’ll find that Stephen, in the midst of criticism and lies and persecution, is utterly unfazed, unshakable.

How do you suffer well? You arm yourself full of the Holy Spirit, my friends. As Proverbs 3, verses 5 and 6 says: “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, submit to him, and he will make your paths straight.” It says, “lean not on your own understanding.” Lean not on conventional wisdom. Lean not on the wisdom of this world. Stop talking to ChatGPT and start talking to God. Come on, you don’t need AI; you need Adonai. That’s good, somebody write that down. I do that for the sake of the service. It says submit your ways to Him, lean not on your own understanding, and He will make your paths straight. Notice it doesn’t say easy.

Stephen will show us that. Verse 9: opposition arose. Circle, highlight, underline that “opposition arose.” “Opposition arose, however, from members of the Synagogue of the Freedmen (as it was called)—Jews of Cyrene and Alexandria as well as the provinces of Cilicia and Asia—who began to argue with Stephen. But they could not stand up against the wisdom the Spirit gave him as he spoke. Then they secretly persuaded some men to say, ‘We have heard Stephen speak blasphemous words against Moses and against God.’” It says opposition arose. Stephen is doing the Lord’s work and life gets harder, the haters get louder, the road gets tougher.

Come on, as followers of Jesus, can we normalize opposition? I didn’t think I would get an amen on that, but can we normalize opposition? When you’re walking in your purpose, when you’re endeavoring to live a life worthy of the call of God on your life, it’s supposed to be hard. It is supposed to be hard. I would venture to say that if there is no spiritual opposition in your life—notice I said spiritual opposition, not that your DoorDash came 14 minutes late—if there is no spiritual opposition in your life, maybe, just maybe (don’t get mad at me), maybe it’s because the enemy doesn’t see you as a threat.

So the opposition arises against Stephen, and they’re arguing with him, but they can’t hold a candle to the power that’s inside of him, to the purpose that’s inside of him. They’re losing every argument, and because they’re losing, they start lying. Come on, because the enemy can’t stand the truth of God within you, you know what he’ll bring your way? Lies. Lies from other people, or lies that you start to believe. And here we see Luke, who’s the author of Acts, mirroring the trial of Jesus with the trial of Stephen: lies and false witnesses rise up, and Stephen is starting to suffer. Yet he is unmoved, unbothered.

This is where I realize I’m not as mature in my faith as I think I am. Because if that’s me, if I’m being honest, I’d have some things to say the moment they start lying. I got some things to say. Stephen does none of that. If that’s me, I’m like, “What y’all are not going to do is lie. Y’all are going to lie?” Anybody else got a problem with lying? I can’t stand lying. And I’m like, “What y’all are not going to do is lie. If you can’t debate, just say that.” Stephen is in the midst of these professional lawyers, and if that’s me, I’m telling them, “Hold this L, hold this L. You can have two of them, right?” Because it says they can’t stand up to his arguments, so they start lying. But he does none of that. Why? Because the truth is unafraid of lies. And even in this miscarriage of justice, even in this suffering, Stephen shows us: pressure cannot prevent your purpose. Pressure cannot prevent purpose.

Let me take you to 1 Peter, chapter 4, verse 12: “Dear friends, do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal that has come on you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you.” Don’t be surprised. Stop thinking it’s supposed to be easy. “But rejoice inasmuch as you participate in the sufferings of Christ, so that you may be overjoyed when his glory is revealed. If you are insulted because of the name of Christ, you are blessed, for the Spirit of glory and of God rests on you.” Peter says, rejoice! Suffering happens; it happened to Jesus, and He’s with you. Pressure cannot prevent purpose.

My friends, some of you right now are battling personal attacks on your character, but I wish I had a few people in here who said, “I may be under attack, but I am unmoved in my allegiance.” Why? Because I serve a suffering Messiah who, like a lamb to the slaughter, was silent in the face of persecution. I know you may be fighting through illness. I know you didn’t ask for the chronic pain or the organ failure, but is there anyone in here who knows: you can break my body, but you cannot break my boldness? Because I serve the One who was pierced for my transgressions, who was bruised for my iniquities, and by His stripes I am healed, even if every medical report says otherwise, even if I never see it in this life.

And Stephen does not allow the injustice to make him indignant. Look at verse 15: “All who were sitting in the Sanhedrin looked intently at Stephen, and they saw that his face was like the face of an angel.” Here’s what I found interesting during my study of this: in order for Luke, the author of the book of Acts, to write this, that means someone in the Sanhedrin had to report it to him, and then he put it in the Bible later. Don’t miss this: some of Stephen’s accusers become his attesters. Hear me today: if you want to suffer well, realize how you process persecution and pain will preach to the very people provoking you. Come on, I’m a preacher, I love alliteration. There’s a lot of “P’s” in there, I know it, but I’m going to say it again because you missed it: how you process persecution and pain will preach to the very people provoking you. In other words, your response to hate is a revelation to your haters. Do you realize that some people are watching how you persevere through this suffering season in your life, and your testimony may just be the breakthrough that they need? And you think it’s all about you.

You can walk full of the Spirit and not be in despair, just like Stevie—can I call him Stevie? You can be going through hell and still look like heaven. It says that his face was like the face of an angel. You can be going through hell and still look like heaven. Come on, turn to the person next to you and say, “I think I look like heaven.” Come on, I love—I grew up in church—I love that old church mom phrase: “I don’t look like what I’ve been through.” Come on, how many of y’all heard that before? “I don’t look like what I’ve been through.” Absolutely, make some noise. Can I be real for a second? Some of y’all look exactly like what you’ve been through. You’re like, “You’ll never guess…” There’s an air cloud every time you open up your mouth to have a conversation. Some of y’all look like what you’ve been through, which shows us this—hear me, no shame, no condemnation—but it shows us this: suffering is a human experience. It is a universal human experience. Every single one of us will go through it, whether you ask for it or not.

But not everyone will suffer well. Because you can go through the hardest season of your life, and if you’re being dragged through that season, you can simply focus on the lack—on what you don’t have and what’s not happening. Or, if you want to suffer well, you can focus your eyes on Jesus. You can go through that same season full of what you do have: the Holy Spirit. So even in the desert place, you’re able to say, “I may be losing it all, but if I have Jesus, I have all that I need. I have all that I need.” Hebrews 12 reminds us of this: fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and is now seated at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider Him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart. Suffer well.

They asked Stephen, “What do you have to say for yourself?” Take him to task, what do you have to say for yourself? And homeboy starts preaching, and we get one full chapter, which means he was up there talking for like two to three hours. We just got the cliff notes. Stephen starts preaching, and we get a whole chapter of Stephen recalling the history of Israel just to get the audience to the point of no return. He essentially says, “You think that I’m guilty of blasphemy, but actually it’s you. You killed the Son of God. You’re just like your ancestors who murdered the prophets.” In other words, he says the thing that can take any conversation in a marriage or in a family from 0 to 100: “You’re just like your daddy.”

And everybody goes crazy. Verse 54: “When the members of the Sanhedrin heard this, they were furious and gnashed their teeth at him. But Stephen, full of the Holy Spirit, looked up to heaven and saw the glory of God, and Jesus standing at the right hand of God. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘I see heaven open and the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God.’” At this they covered their ears and, yelling at the top of their voices, they all rushed at him, dragged him out of the city, and began to stone him. Meanwhile, the witnesses laid their coats at the feet of a young man named Saul. And while they were stoning him, Stephen prayed, “Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.” Then he fell on his knees and cried out, “Lord, do not hold this sin against them.” When he had said this, he fell asleep.

Stephen is on the brink of death, and he gets this beautiful divine revelation of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. By the way, the response that we get from those in attendance—those accusing him—is the exact same vitriolic response we get at the trial of Jesus when He stands before the high priest. When Jesus essentially tells the high priest, “You think you stand in judgment of Me, but I’m the one that Daniel wrote about 500 years ago, the One who will come riding on the clouds in judgment of you.” And Stephen says, “I see Him, I see Him.”

And I felt like the Lord showed me this in my preparation for this message. Look at the reaction of his accusers. It says they were furious and gnashed their teeth at him. “Gnashed”—it’s the same verb in the Greek, by the way, used when Jesus gives the description of hell throughout the Gospels, when He says there will be “weeping and gnashing of teeth.” Gnashing of teeth in this moment shows their fury, their hatred, their deep anger, and their resentment. Making those connections between what Jesus said and what’s happening here in Acts, let’s look closer for a minute. We can see for a second it shows you that hell isn’t some torture chamber that you accidentally fall into at the end of your life, but maybe part of what it is is a place of your own choosing—a perpetual state of anger, rage, resentment, and unforgiveness.

And you might be going, “But Ricky, who would ever choose that?” Whenever you choose to not let go of that unforgiveness, and you hold onto it for life, you don’t realize that it’s killing you. Juxtapose that for a second with Stephen, who is the one being unjustly lynched in this moment, by the way, and he says, “Lord, do not hold this sin against them.” Friends, if we are to suffer well, it is time to let go of the bitterness that is ruining your heart. It is time to let go of the pain and the unforgiveness. It is time to deal with the bitterness before it deals with you. Some of you are living in a personal hell right now because you’ve allowed hurt to define you. You’ve allowed the abuse to embitter you, you’ve allowed the lies to make you resentful, and listen to me: I am not minimizing that, my friends. You cannot change what happened to you. I am so sorry for whatever happened to you or whatever was done to you. I’m sorry if you’re suffering at the hands of someone else’s evil decisions. But hear the voice of Jesus this morning saying, it’s time to forgive; it’s time to let go. You don’t have to live with it anymore. If you’re going to suffer well, don’t let bitterness be your story. Don’t let bitterness be your story.

Here we have Stephen, impossibly, almost, forgiving them at the point of his death. How do you know you suffer well? You can forgive, so that bitterness is not your story and unforgiveness has no roots in your life.

I remember walking with a friend as he was dying in hospice, and I’m talking to his wife and she’s so angry at the doctors. “They should have caught it sooner, they should have done all the things.” And I let her keep talking and just vent. Then I remember looking at her and saying, “Listen, if you allow it, you will never run out of people to be angry at. You will never run out of doctors to resent. You will never run out of a list of people to be bitter at. But you can forgive.” How? Why? Because we serve a God—we believe in a God—that forgives you, that forgave you and forgave me. A God who, in Jesus, took your punishment, took my punishment, and gives you His Spirit that allows you to no longer hate and wish hurt on the ones who abused you. To no longer be bitter at the ex who handed you a reality that you didn’t ask for. To no longer resent the doctors who steered you the wrong way, and now your body is breaking down because of it. You can live free. You can suffer well. You can live free from the chains of bitterness, free from the prison of trauma, free from the poison of hatred and resentment. You can live free.

What’s the mark of suffering well? It’s this: you would not wish what you went through on anyone, but you no longer wish it away. You would not wish what you went through on anyone, but you no longer wish it away. Why? Because in the midst of the pain, in the midst of the suffering, in the midst of the persecution, you found a Healer. You found a Rescuer, you found a Provider, and His name is Jesus.

Stephen says in verse 56: “Look, I see heaven open and the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God.” How do you suffer well? You keep your eyes fixed on Jesus, and you remind your soul that He’s still on the throne. You keep your eyes on Jesus, and you remind your soul: He sees me, He has not forgotten about me, He has not left me, He has not forsaken me, He’s still on the throne. Even if the sickness lasts a lifetime, in the light of eternity, it’s still temporary. But what is eternal is that my God is still on the throne; He has not abdicated His place. As Job says: “Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return. The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.” Blessed be the name of the Lord.

Friends, keep your gaze on His glory. I know it’s hard. It is much easier to preach, much harder to live. I know it’s hard. I know they hurt you, I know you’re suffering, but listen to me: it all dims in comparison to the light and glory of who He is. Job says He gives and takes away, blessed be the name of the Lord. But that was before Job went through some things, right? Right after he went through those things, before the end of the chapter… if you go to the end of the book, Job, like many of us, starts throwing a pity party with God. Rightfully so, by the way. And he’s asking all these questions of God. He’s asking, “Why was I born? Why did You allow this to happen?” All the same questions you and I have.

And then God shows up. I imagine God’s like, “I got time today.” God pulls up on Job, and I like that energy that God has for Job. I don’t like it when He has that energy for me, but I like that energy He has for Job. He doesn’t answer a single question, but He starts taking Job through a universal checklist: “Were you there at creation? Were you there?” He just asks questions back to Job, and Job is like, “I don’t have anything for You.”

I love that moment that God has with Job because I’ve been having it with my children. Come on, I got a six-year-old, an eight-year-old, and a twelve-year-old—soon to be thirteen-year-old girl. Our eight-year-old son, he doesn’t like any rules. Any parents living with that? You’re like, “For eighteen years, brother!” He doesn’t like any rules, but he’s at that age where anytime I give him a rule or a responsibility, he’s like, “Daddy, stop being mean to me.” I’m like, “I’m not being mean, these are just my rules.” So he’s on this wave, and the other day I’m like, “Okay, guess what? Today you’re going to brush your own hair. You got a lot of hair, so you’re going to brush your own hair.” Because I knew what was going to happen; I needed a moment of teaching with him. And he’s trying to brush his hair, saying, “I can’t do it! What side? What are we doing?” This goes on for like fifteen minutes, and we got to go to school.

And I sit down and I look at him and I say, “Listen to me. Through no fault of your own, because we haven’t taught you yet, you can’t do something as simple as brush your hair without my help. So maybe, just maybe, all the rules that you don’t like—all the decisions that Mommy and Daddy make that you keep bucking up against—maybe you can’t quite see what’s happening right now, and you can’t quite see why we have all these rules and the decisions we’re making.”

Listen to me, friends: you may not understand the suffering that you are facing right now, but there is a God in heaven that knows you, that sees you, that loves you, and that is working it out for your good. That doesn’t mean everything happens for a reason, by the way. It doesn’t mean everything happens for a reason. Can we stop saying that? Can we stop telling people everything happens for a reason? It doesn’t. Sin is senseless. Evil is chaotic. We live in a broken, fallen world, but we believe in a God that can take even the darkest things and turn them for good. He doesn’t need to use evil—He does not use evil—but He can work through it.

The verse says that as the men stoned Stephen, they laid their cloaks at the feet of a young man named Saul. This same Saul is looking at Stephen, who’s looking at Jesus, who’s looking at Stephen. This same Saul, in two chapters, will have his own radical encounter with the resurrected Christ on the road to Damascus. And Jesus will say to him, “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?” This is for anyone wanting to take vengeance into their own hands, listen to what Jesus says: “Why do you persecute Me?” Not, “Why do you hurt My sons and daughters?” Not, “Why are you persecuting My church?” But, “Why do you persecute Me?” Give it to God. Vengeance is the Lord’s. Stop trying to do it in your own strength.

And Saul is struck with blindness for three days, and while Saul is struck with blindness, he’s got some time to think. I wonder if he thinks about Stephen. We know the rest of the story: Saul becomes the apostle Paul, has this radical conversion, and becomes the greatest church planter the world has ever known. He writes two-thirds of the New Testament. And while Saul was struck with blindness, I wonder if he remembered Stephen. I wonder if the testimony of Stephen never left him, because he was there. Paul will face the same persecution as Stephen multiple times over in his life. And I think every time he felt like falling into self-pity after every stoning, after every jailing, after every ridicule, I wonder if he remembered Stephen. And he writes words like Philippians 3:10: “I want to know Christ—yes, to know the power of his resurrection and participation in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, and so, somehow, attaining to the resurrection from the dead.”

What if the suffering of Stephen was the seedbed of perseverance in the life of Paul when he says, “I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us”? Listen to me as we close: what if your suffering is producing fruit that you cannot see right now? You have no idea who’s on the other side of your breakthrough. But if you keep your focus on Jesus, you will get to know Jesus through suffering in a way that you otherwise couldn’t have. You can’t see it yet, but trust that He sees you and He wastes nothing—that the pain is not in vain. The suffering can be leveraged for His glory; He has not left you, He is with you, and He will not forget you.

Look at what Stephen sees—we know the verse: “Keep your eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who is seated at the right hand of God.” But you know what Stephen sees? You know what he says? “I see Him standing at the right hand of God.” Not seated—standing. I want to live a life that, through suffering, makes Jesus get out of His seat, look down, and go, “That’s My good and faithful servant. Welcome into your rest.” I don’t know about you, but I want to live a life that makes Jesus get out of His seat. That makes suffering worth it. That says, “I consider that our present sufferings are not worth being compared to the glory that is being revealed.”

Would you stand with us this morning? Friends, in your suffering, you can be full of the Spirit. Pressure cannot prevent your purpose, so we keep our eyes fixed on Jesus. Don’t let bitterness be your story. In a moment, whether here in the room or at Buda, when I’m done praying, I’m going to release you to take the elements, and we’re going to take communion together, remembering that we serve a suffering Messiah.

And I dare you—I challenge you—if you’re going through something, would you lift your voice in worship as our band leads us? Before communion, would you lift your voice in worship that says He gives and takes away, but I can still bless Him because He’s worthy? Come hell or high water, He is worthy. He’s worthy, my friends, He’s worthy of your worship. So would you grab the communion elements? Don’t take them just yet; we’ll take them all together in just a moment as I pray us out.

Father God, we thank You that we don’t suffer in vain. We thank You that we can suffer well because You went first. So we give You the pain. We choose to not let bitterness be our story, and we keep our eyes fixed on You, the author and pioneer of our faith, who endured such opposition from sinners so that we can have proof positive and not grow faint and lose heart. I pray for the person this morning who’s on the brink of giving up. Would You breathe fresh life into them in this moment? In the name of Jesus we pray, amen and amen. You’re free to grab the elements and bring them back to your seat, and we will take them in just a moment together