More Than Conquerors

                  What, then, shall we say in response to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all—how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things? Who will bring any charge against those whom God has chosen? It is God who justifies. Who then is the one who condemns? No one. Christ Jesus who died—more than that, who was raised to life—is at the right hand of God and is also interceding for us. Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? As it is written:

“For your sake we face death all day long;
    we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered.”

No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us.  (Romans 8:31-37)

The apostles left the Sanhedrin, rejoicing because they had been counted worthy of suffering disgrace for the Name. Day after day, in the temple courts and from house to house, they never stopped teaching and proclaiming the good news that Jesus is the Messiah. (Acts 5:41-42)

Romans 8 should probably be put in a Battle Bible in its entirety, and we’ll continue to bounce around in it for a day or two. Today’s passage could go in the “Hero’s Story” section.

As a writer, I’ve been told that the basic plotline for a heroic story is that you start with a person – either average or below average in some way.  You strip the character of every advantage, every support, every reason to hope, and then make the character fight his way back to seeming victory. And just as he thinks he’s won; you resurrect or release the antagonist for one…last…chance…to…destroy…the… enemy (AKA: the hero) and the hero either barely survives and lives happily ever after or dies protecting the ones he loves. But, when it comes to real life, we tend to think that either we aren’t the hero or that we are the exception to the suffering part.

At one point fairly early in the history of the Church, the apostles celebrated because they’d been counted worthy of suffering disgrace for the Name. Today, we hear something like, “Oh, you’re a Christian?” in tone that says, “What’s wrong with you,” and we slink away. This hero-stuff is hard. We’d rather a less grueling approach. For me, two reasons to not welcome suffering come to mind. The first is that I see suffering as failure. The second is that I might see some suffering as worthy, but not the suffering I seem to face. My suffering is “self-inflicted” or, at least, not because I’m a Christian.

And, of course, if my suffering is self-inflicted or not associated in my mind with my Christianity, I’m less likely to go to the Father about it, less likely to seek to be more than a conqueror. That’s why I – and probably we – need to return to this passage.