The apostle's words about comfort in suffering may seem strange at first: after all, perhaps only a masochist can take delight in suffering. History, and not only Christian history, certainly knows many examples of people who remained faithful to their cause despite...
The apostle's words about comfort in suffering may seem strange at first: after all, perhaps only a masochist can take delight in suffering. History, and not only Christian history, certainly knows many examples of people who remained faithful to their cause despite every persecution and trial, and took pride in not betraying their principles in the face of it all. But if there is joy here, it clearly does not come from suffering itself and is usually not felt while the suffering is taking place. It comes when everything is over and one can look back and acknowledge one's own steadfastness in trials endured for a faith or an idea. Judging by his words, however, the apostle is speaking about something else: comfort at the very moment of suffering, comfort that grows as the suffering itself becomes more intense. This cannot be explained by the laws of the untransfigured world. From the perspective of the Kingdom and its life, however, everything falls into place. Suffering, of course, remains suffering and in itself brings no joy whatsoever. But suffering is part of the untransfigured world that lies in evil; it is itself a manifestation of that evil, and there is no place for it in the Kingdom.
Moreover, the apostle is not speaking merely about suffering, but about persecution for Christ, for bearing witness to the Kingdom. Such witness is possible only insofar as the witness has personally entered into the life of the very Kingdom to which they testify. They are persecuted precisely because, in an untransfigured world, they dare to live by the laws of the Kingdom and to call others to do the same. It is hardly surprising that the more deeply a witness is rooted in the life of the Kingdom, the more strongly the world rejects them, the more intense the persecution becomes, and the greater the suffering. Yet the life of the Kingdom is also experienced more deeply and more truly as the witness becomes more deeply rooted in it! It is this life of the Kingdom that the witness experiences as comfort. Indeed, Christian confession under persecution, like martyrdom, only outwardly resembles the sufferings and persecutions endured for an idea, of which the history of the untransfigured world has so many examples.
A martyr for an idea suffers or even gives up their life merely in exchange for the assurance that they are right and for the right to regard themselves as an uncompromising exponent and bearer of their idea. Sometimes, of course, even this is enough, for certain ideas and principles are not far from the Kingdom. But a Christian confessor suffers, and a martyr gives up their earthly life, not for the idea of the Kingdom but for the fullness of the Kingdom's life, which they would lose if they tried to preserve its wretched earthly semblance at the price of compromise—which would in fact mean renouncing the Kingdom. Paul, it seems, bears witness to this “existential dialectic,” as a modern philosopher might call it, from his own experience as a Christian witness, confessor, and martyr.
