“We must in general keep life going when the heart is breaking,” John Piper says solemnly as he sets out to poignantly paint Charles Spurgeon’s remarkable life as a preacher in a slim but uplifting biography: Preaching Through Adversity.1 From February 23rd 2025, I have had the chance to stand before fellow Christian Medical Students of the University of Nairobi, at the end of nearly every Friday and Sunday service, and do the Benediction. Tradition has it in Medical School Christian Union that when the sermon is ended, the Chairperson will speak to the congregation briefly, give his/her last remarks, and finally disperse them with a word of blessing. So far, however, I fear I may not have excellently delivered what Samuel Chadwick in his sermon collections,2 speaking on the Christian Benediction drawn from the words of the grace in 2 Corinthians 13:14, clarifies its purpose in bringing God near[the people] in the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God, and the communion of the Holy Spirit.

When I was informed of my nomination to serve as the Chairperson, I very nearly gasped, ‘nolo episcopari!’ (Latin for I don't want to be a bishop) only I had by then known a bit of God not indulging the whims of men insofar as he intended to effect his purpose. Seeing how He must in the end win, was it reasonable to contend with Him? Jonah will speak to the Ninevites whether he wants to or not.

John Piper shows us a man who, as to do the fervor of his passion in serving our Lord, is very different from we who are at ease in Zion, but who, like all of us, had feet of clay, and maybe a heart of one too. “Spurgeon had recurrent battles with depression,” writes Piper, and it is no surprise to us who have sat under Spurgeon's warm exhortations that the statement snags our hearts. How indeed could Spurgeon speak so beautifully of God's wonderful providence, how could a man know all that he did, say all that he said, and yet still, in tears, lament: “My spirits were sunken so low that I could weep by the hour like a child, and yet I knew not what I wept for.”

Myself, as I have stood to bless the people in God's name, I have prayed and strove diligently to rightly encourage the fainthearted, just as Paul urges the Thessalonians towards the end of his first epistle to them. I have mostly spoken with a smile, and declared the love of God with a seemingly unmistakable and resolute assurance. Afterwards, as we walked to the table for a tete a tete and feedback session with the speaker, with an even brighter smile and a kinder voice, I shook the hands of those I could, and asked them, “how are you doing? Are you sure?” Later in the day, however, as I sat alone in my room, tears have come to my eyes, and I almost despaired of life itself. Like Spurgeon, I know that despondency isn't a virtue; it’s a vice, one I am heartily ashamed of. Yet still, it's crushing how gladly I have spoken of light when, lonely, it's darkness I have known. Before the congregation I have urged faith and love, but alone I have reached out my hand as to an invisible God. Anytime I spoke to God's people, I have had to cast this sorrow behind me, and speak for their upliftment.

And just as life circumstances do at times nudge us towards particular texts in Scripture, it was in light of all this that I was able to notice the wisdom in 2 Corinthians 1:23-24, 2:1-11. In paraphrase, Paul postpones a visit, afraid that he might end up causing the Corinthians pain. And he didn't want to cause pain to the very people whom he hoped would make him glad.

2 Corinthians 2:1-2 ESV [1] For I made up my mind not to make another painful visit to you. [2] For if I cause you pain, who is there to make me glad but the one whom I have pained?

Paul was very careful not to cause sorrow, even when he had to write out of much affliction and anguish of heart and with many tears. The sorrow he himself had been caused, and the great pain he had to bear, could not stand in the way of the abundant love he had for the Corinthians. Paul’s selfless words buoyed up my soul a bit, and warned me of the error I appeared to be in the danger of falling into: causing the people whom I loved, whom I desired and hoped to rejoice with, causing them pain and sorrow.

Medical School Christian Union was meant to be a place where gladness made her home, but I was about to cast the shadow of my gloom upon such a joyous congregation. And if I caused sorrow in this way, how was I later to be helped out of my own sorrow? I thought also of a dear friend of mine, a little lady, who I might have indeed caused much sorrow on account of my heart's anguish, and I nearly sobbed like a baby. That then was a text that spoke into relationships, both friendships and intimate ones, urging us towards joy and reconciliation. In several instances in the New Testament, Paul exhorts us to strive for peace, with all men, as long as it depends on us. Rightly so, for the only begotten Son of God, declared blessed men who worked for peace, and called them the sons of God. In Romans, we are warned that rather than being a Kingdom concerned with eating and drinking, the Kingdom of Heaven rather is about righteousness, peace, and joy. Peace. Joy.

Then Paul asks them to quickly turn and forgive and comfort the man who had caused, according to Paul, all of them pain by his causing Paul pain first, so that the man is not overwhelmed by excessive sorrow. “That punishment is enough already,” Paul says, “so please reaffirm your love to him.” We are made to see how indeed Paul was averse to pain and sorrow’s reign among people he would rather have had dwell in love, peace, and joy with him, and with another, his last statement being: so that we will not be outwitted by Satan, for we are not ignorant of Satan’s designs.

Satan's aim is ever to sow discord. C. S. Lewis renders the matter accurately enough through Screwtape’s third letter to Wormwood, asking him to pit his patient(Wormwood's) against his mother: Keep in close touch with our colleague Glubose who is in charge of the mother, and build up between you in that house a good settled habit of mutual annoyance; daily pinpricks.3 To hurt another, to inflict pain, to cause sorrow, is to be outwitted by Satan. As I make my stride to the dais then, even while I yet limp because of my dislocated hip, I must remind myself that I have been blessed enough, even amid my anguish and affliction and many tears, so that I should never presume to cause my hearers such a great deal of sorrow, making me suffer pain among those who should have made me rejoice.

Wearied as I am, I cast my eyes upon Spurgeon who walked the same path of pain and anguish, yet still warmed hearts with the fire of his passion and won souls for Christ even with a heart that bled, I cast my eyes upon my Saviour who was himself despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief, who bore my transgressions and was crushed for my iniquity. Here, Frederick Buechner’s words ring true, and especially for pastors and preachers, among whom would I like to think myself a part of: we cannot always believe. We cannot always say Yes. At times we truly feel God’s warm embrace, at other times, it is as though the door is banged on our faces.

O my dear ones, I write this to remind you that you have for a leader a man who God is yet helping. Forgive me for those times when my sorrow has broken you. Forgive me for those times I have pained those who were meant to make me rejoice. My prayer is that the work that He himself began, surely may He carry it to its end. I love you, fellow pilgrims.

Frederick Buechner - The Return of Ansel Gibbs:4

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I have alluded to several texts in the Bible, it would be good if I would have referenced them, but that feels just a little tedious, I plead that you indulge me.

2 Corinthians 2:1-11 ESV

[1] For I made up my mind not to make another painful visit to you. [2] For if I cause you pain, who is there to make me glad but the one whom I have pained? [3] And I wrote as I did, so that when I came I might not suffer pain from those who should have made me rejoice, for I felt sure of all of you, that my joy would be the joy of you all. [4] For I wrote to you out of much affliction and anguish of heart and with many tears, not to cause you pain but to let you know the abundant love that I have for you. [5] Now if anyone has caused pain, he has caused it not to me, but in some measure—not to put it too severely—to all of you. [6] For such a one, this punishment by the majority is enough, [7] so you should rather turn to forgive and comfort him, or he may be overwhelmed by excessive sorrow. [8] So I beg you to reaffirm your love for him. [9] For this is why I wrote, that I might test you and know whether you are obedient in everything. [10] Anyone whom you forgive, I also forgive. Indeed, what I have forgiven, if I have forgiven anything, has been for your sake in the presence of Christ, [11] so that we would not be outwitted by Satan; for we are not ignorant of his designs.