I've been thinking about silver linings lately. There are more than a few in my life right now. If it weren't for this tumor, I wouldn't have switched to a healthier diet. Because of this illness, I've reconnected with a lot of people from my past, which has been amazing. Thanks to cancer, I've had some deep conversations with my wife and children that otherwise might not have happened. Because of my suffering, I've had ministry opportunities that I otherwise would not have had.

     Silver linings are called that because of the light around the edges of the cloud that obscures the sun. The sun may be gone, we may be in the shadows for now, but there is still light around the edges, a little bit of sparkling beauty in spite of the darkness. It is natural to want silver linings - little things that help us make sense of our pain. Small blessings that help us feel like the suffering is perhaps worth it. Silver linings are distinct from observations about how things could have been worse (like telling Job after he lost all his belongings and all his children, "At least you still have your health!"). A silver lining is a positive thing that only exists because of the negative circumstances. If it wasn't for this pain in my life, I wouldn't have this blessing that I now enjoy.

     Before I critique our search for silver linings, I want to be clear that I think there's something very positive about them. The search for silver linings reveals a deep-rooted faith that our suffering has meaning. Or, at the very least, our belief that we can impose meaning on our suffering, as long as we can discern some benefit to it. But for the believer, searching for silver linings is the faith-instinct at work. We know God is in control of all things (Proverbs 19:21); we know he has promised that all things work for good (Romans 8:28); we trust that he has good plans for us (Jeremiah 29:11). So if we are suffering, there must be a greater purpose to it.

     That much is true. Where we stumble is moving from that truth ("there is purpose in our suffering") to the conclusion that we need to know and understand the purpose for our pain. When we move that direction, we expose ourselves to at least two dangers that I notice:

Danger #1: Mistaking the silver lining for the true purpose. We don't know what God is doing in a particular situation. Experience shows that he is capable of accomplishing things we can't even imagine. Picture the disciples the day after Jesus' crucifixion trying to find a silver lining to those events. "Well, at least we have some more free time now." "Well, we sure did learn a lot." "We've made some great friends in the process." We could surely look at things from every angle and come up with a few positive takes on Jesus being nailed to the cross in defeat. But none of those are the reason for the cross. In that dark moment, God was performing an unimaginable miracle, something no human mind could ever conceive (1 Corinthians 2:9).
     The search for silver linings can cause use to live with a forced optimism when we're hurting. Because we can't grasp what God is really doing, we cling to whatever explanation we can figure out and then try to convince ourselves and others that this is what God is doing and it is worth it. Or, if we're honest, we're forced to admit that the silver lining is not enough - if this is all God is doing in my life, then he's messed up. This leads to despair, loss of hope, and rejection of God.

     Remember, this is the God whose thoughts are higher than our thoughts and whose ways are higher than our ways (Isaiah 55:8-9). Sometimes, the purposes of God cannot and will not be discerned in this present darkness. Only in the undimmed light of eternity will all things be made clear. And on that day, his saints will rejoice: “Great and amazing are your deeds, O Lord God the Almighty!  Just and true are your ways, O King of the nations!" (Revelation 15:3).  Only then will we see and understand enough to declare that everything God did was right - including our suffering.

Danger #2: Putting our hope in what we can understand. Our hope is in God's character, in who he is. Not in what we understand about his ways. His ways are beyond our understanding. God knows every thought and intention of every human heart all at once. God knows and directs every motion of every molecule in the universe. God knows every possible outcome of every choice before the choice is made. To demand or expect that we would be able to understand all that he does is the pinnacle of pride. This was God's answer to Job. Some people find it wholly unsatisfying - I get that. God essentially tells Job (and spends several chapters doing so - Job 38-41) - "I am the creator. I work at a level that created beings can't understand." This leads Job to conclude, after all his chapters of self-defense and complaint, “I know that you can do all things, and that no purpose of yours can be thwarted... Therefore I have uttered what I did not understand, things too wonderful for me, which I did not know" (Job 42:2-3).
     Similarly, after spending a few chapters sorting through the mystery of how God works, Paul ends with this stanza of worship:  Oh, the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgments and how inscrutable his ways! For who has known the mind of the Lord, or who has been his counselor? Or who has given a gift to him that he might be repaid? For from him and through him and to him are all things. To him be glory forever. Amen. (Romans 11:33-36).

     I won't pretend this isn't hard. The proverb lies - not every cloud has a silver lining. Sometimes the storm stretches on for countless miles and all around us is dark and frightful. If silver linings are what we cling to, then we will be lost in such times. How do we trust God in the middle of circumstances that seems to obscure him, or, worse yet, circumstances that seem to portray him as cruel and unloving? How do we worship God and declare him good when our pain makes no sense?

     We hold tightly to what we do understand. We fix our feet firmly in what God has revealed, not about our circumstances, but about himself. We make sure our anchors are firmly fixed. I would love to know why I have cancer. I would be strengthened to know today how this will bless my family, strengthen my church, grow God's kingdom, and work all things for good. But the question I have to face every day is this: Will I thank God, rejoicing in my suffering, even if I never know the reason for it? Is my faithfulness dependent on God explaining himself to me? It cannot be. There is no hope down that path. My hope needs to be in the bright sun above the storm, not in the glimpses of his light I get around the clouds.

     One of my favorite songs is a little chorus I learned in China, Yun Shang Tai Yang. It seems quite appropriate to mention on this topic.

The lyrics of the song (my own translation) are:
Whether you are on the top of a beautiful mountain
Or lying in a dark valley
When you lift up your head, you will discover
God has already prepared for us.

The sun above the clouds, it will never change
Though rain drops may fall upon your face
The sun above the clouds, it will never change
Oh, it will never change.

     Silver linings can only be seen from beneath the clouds. They exists because the clouds obscure the sun. But they also remind us that the sun is still there, unchanging and undefeated, and we will feel its warmth again. When silver linings aren't enough, and when suffering seems meaningless and purposeless, cling instead to the promise of what guarantees purpose in your pain - the character and wisdom and power of God. He is the sun above the clouds, the hope that never changes.