The following is an excerpt from a book about suffering written by Timothy Downing, Missionary in Ecuador. The book is titled: The Storm Will ComeBuilding Foundations for Inevitable Suffering
The Theological Foundation of Active Acceptance
The first pillar of endurance rests upon what appears to be a contradiction: that the path to victory over suffering lies through surrender to it. This paradox cuts against every instinct of human nature and every assumption of contemporary culture, both of which counsel us to fight against unwelcome circumstances with every resource at our disposal. Yet the consistent witness of Christian tradition, confirmed by both theological reflection and practical experience, demonstrates that resistance to unavoidable suffering multiplies rather than diminishes its power over us.
The theological foundation for this principle lies in the Christian understanding of divine sovereignty and human finitude. The believer who acknowledges that God governs all things—including the circumstances that cause us pain—faces a fundamental choice: will we align ourselves with divine purposes, however mysterious they may seem, or will we expend our energies in futile opposition to what has already been permitted or ordained?
This choice is not merely pragmatic but deeply spiritual. When we resist suffering that cannot be changed, we are effectively declaring ourselves wiser than God, more capable of ordering the universe according to its proper purposes. Such resistance represents not strength but pride—the original sin that assumes human judgment superior to divine wisdom. The suffering that might have served constructive purposes in our spiritual formation becomes instead an occasion for rebellion and resentment.
The paradox of surrender, properly understood, does not counsel passive resignation to all forms of suffering but rather active discernment between suffering that can be constructively resisted and suffering that must be faithfully accepted. The Christian who diagnoses cancer does not passively accept the disease as God’s will but actively pursues medical treatment. The believer facing financial hardship does not assume that poverty represents divine intention but takes responsible steps to address the situation. The parent whose child struggles with addiction does not interpret the struggle as unchangeable destiny but works to provide appropriate help and support.
But when these and other forms of suffering persist despite our best efforts to address them—when the cancer progresses despite treatment, when financial recovery proves impossible despite responsible action, when the child continues to make destructive choices despite parental intervention—the believer faces the call to acceptance. This acceptance is not passive but active, not resigned but purposeful. It represents the choice to work with divine providence rather than against it, to find meaning within circumstances we cannot alter rather than to exhaust ourselves in futile attempts at alteration.
The biblical warrant for this understanding comes from multiple sources, but perhaps none more clearly than Jesus’ prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane: “Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me. Nevertheless, not my will, but yours, be done” (Luke 22:42). This prayer demonstrates that acceptance of suffering does not require the absence of natural human preferences or the suppression of legitimate desires for relief. Even the Son of God expressed the wish that his suffering might be avoided if such avoidance were consistent with divine purposes.
But the prayer moves from preference to surrender: “Nevertheless, not my will, but yours, be done.” This movement represents the essence of Christian acceptance—the acknowledgment that our understanding is partial, our perspectives limited, and our judgments fallible, while God’s wisdom encompasses all things and his purposes serve ends that transcend our immediate comprehension. The prayer does not express weak resignation but strong faith—confidence that the God who permits suffering possesses both the wisdom to know what is best and the power to bring good from apparent evil.
The apostle Paul provides another model of this same principle in his response to what he calls his “thorn in the flesh” (2 Corinthians 12:7-10). Whatever the specific nature of this affliction, Paul initially sought its removal through prayer, asking God three times to take it away. This demonstrates that seeking relief from suffering is not inherently unspiritual—Paul did not accept his difficulty immediately but pursued the possibility of its elimination.
When that elimination did not come, however, Paul moved to acceptance, discovering in the process that his weakness became an occasion for divine strength: “But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me.” Paul’s acceptance was not passive endurance but active cooperation with divine purposes that he came to recognize as superior to his own desires for relief.
Distinguishing Between Acceptance and Approval
One of the most crucial distinctions in developing a theology of acceptance concerns the difference between accepting circumstances and approving of them. This distinction addresses a common misunderstanding that equates Christian submission with moral indifference or that assumes acceptance of suffering implies endorsement of the evil that may have caused it.
The rape victim who learns to accept that the assault occurred does not thereby approve of rape or excuse her attacker’s behavior. The parent who accepts that his child has died does not thereby approve of death or cease to regard it as an enemy. The believer who accepts that she has developed a chronic illness does not thereby approve of disease or abandon appropriate medical treatment. In each case, acceptance involves acknowledging reality as it is rather than as we wish it were, while maintaining clear moral judgments about the goodness or evil of various aspects of that reality.
This distinction proves crucial for maintaining both psychological health and theological integrity. Without it, acceptance becomes impossible for anyone with a functioning moral sense, since it would require not merely acknowledgment of evil’s presence but endorsement of evil’s legitimacy. With it, acceptance becomes possible even for those who maintain strong convictions about justice, righteousness, and the ultimate triumph of good over evil.
The biblical foundation for this distinction lies in the recognition that God himself accepts the presence of evil in his creation without approving of it, works through evil circumstances without being responsible for them, and brings good from evil without making evil good. The Joseph narrative in Genesis provides a paradigmatic example: Joseph acknowledges that his brothers’ actions in selling him into slavery were genuinely evil (“you meant evil against me”), while simultaneously recognizing that God used those evil actions to accomplish good purposes (“but God meant it for good, to bring it about that many people should be kept alive, as they are today”) (Genesis 50:20).
This framework allows believers to maintain moral clarity while practicing spiritual acceptance. The Christian who suffers injustice can acknowledge the reality of his suffering without excusing those who inflicted it, work to address systemic problems without being consumed by personal resentment, and trust that God will ultimately vindicate righteousness without demanding immediate vindication in every particular case.
The practical implications of this distinction extend to many areas of Christian living. The believer facing unemployment can accept the reality of his situation without approving of economic systems that create unnecessary hardship, work diligently to find new employment without being consumed by anxiety about outcomes, and trust divine provision without assuming that such provision will necessarily take the form he prefers. The parent of a rebellious teenager can accept that she cannot control her child’s choices without approving of those choices, continue to offer appropriate guidance and support without taking personal responsibility for decisions that lie beyond her authority, and maintain hope for eventual reconciliation without demanding immediate transformation.
Prayer as the Practice of Relinquishment
The discipline of prayer serves as the primary means by which believers learn and practice the art of acceptance. Through prayer, we bring our desires, fears, and expectations into the presence of God, offering them to divine wisdom while gradually learning to hold them with appropriate looseness. Prayer becomes not merely a technique for obtaining desired outcomes but a practice of communion that reshapes our desires to align with divine purposes.
The Lord’s Prayer provides the foundational pattern for this understanding. The petition “Thy will be done” appears not as reluctant resignation but as positive aspiration—the expression of a heart that has learned to trust divine wisdom more than human understanding. This prayer does not suppress legitimate human desires but subordinates them to higher purposes, acknowledging that our individual wants must be evaluated within the context of God’s comprehensive concern for all creation.
The practice of intercessory prayer serves similar purposes by training believers to care about outcomes beyond their direct control while learning to entrust those outcomes to divine wisdom. The parent who prays for her child’s welfare learns to distinguish between appropriate concern and inappropriate anxiety, between responsible action and controlling manipulation. The citizen who prays for his nation’s leaders learns to care about political outcomes without being consumed by political results, to work for justice without demanding immediate vindication of his particular perspectives.
Contemplative prayer traditions have developed sophisticated approaches to this discipline of relinquishment. The Jesus Prayer—”Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner”—trains the practitioner to focus attention on God’s character rather than on personal circumstances, finding peace in the assurance of divine mercy rather than in the alteration of external conditions. Centering Prayer teaches believers to release thoughts and concerns as they arise during prayer, practicing the discipline of letting go that proves essential when facing circumstances that cannot be changed.
The liturgical tradition provides communal frameworks for this same practice. Prayers of confession acknowledge human limitation and failure while expressing trust in divine forgiveness. Prayers of petition bring community needs before God while concluding with variations of “Thy will be done.” Prayers of thanksgiving cultivate gratitude for divine goodness while acknowledging that such goodness may not always take the forms we expect or prefer.
Perhaps most importantly, prayer serves as a laboratory for learning to distinguish between our will and God’s will, between our understanding of what is good and God’s understanding. The believer who spends significant time in prayer gradually develops what the tradition calls “discernment”—the ability to recognize divine promptings and to align personal desires with divine purposes. This discernment proves invaluable when facing difficult circumstances that require the wisdom to know what can be changed and what must be accepted.
Historical Witness: The Desert Fathers and Apatheia
The early Christian monks who withdrew to the deserts of Egypt and Syria in the third and fourth centuries developed perhaps the most sophisticated understanding of acceptance as spiritual discipline. Their concept of apatheia—often mistranslated as apathy or indifference—actually represented something quite different: freedom from the tyranny of circumstances through the cultivation of detachment from outcomes beyond one’s control.
The desert father Evagrius Ponticus defined apatheia as “a peaceful state of the soul in which the soul is not easily moved to evil.” This peace came not from the absence of challenges or difficulties but from a transformed relationship to them. The monk who achieved apatheia did not cease to feel emotions or to care about outcomes, but he learned to experience both pleasure and pain, success and failure, praise and criticism without being enslaved by any of them.
This achievement required rigorous training in the discipline of attention. The desert monks developed elaborate practices designed to focus consciousness on God rather than on the fluctuating circumstances of life. They spent hours in repetitive prayer, memorized vast portions of Scripture, and cultivated habits of manual labor that kept the body occupied while the mind remained attentive to divine presence. Through such practices, they learned to find their identity and security in relationship with God rather than in external conditions that lay beyond their control.
The sayings of the desert fathers provide practical wisdom for contemporary believers seeking to develop similar spiritual freedom. Abba Poemen taught, “If a man remembers that he will be judged, he will not sin easily.” This remembrance of ultimate accountability helped monks maintain perspective during temporary difficulties, recognizing that present circumstances, however challenging, were less significant than eternal realities.
Amma Syncletica, one of the few desert mothers whose teachings have been preserved, observed, “In the beginning there are struggles and a lot of work for those who come near to God. But after that there is indescribable joy. It is just like building a fire: at first it’s smoky and your eyes water, but later you get the desired result. Thus we ought to light the divine fire in ourselves with tears and effort.” This recognition that spiritual growth requires sustained effort through difficult circumstances provided encouragement for those tempted to abandon their disciplines when immediate results were not apparent.
The desert tradition’s understanding of apatheia differed significantly from Stoic indifference, with which it is sometimes confused. The Stoics counseled emotional detachment as an end in itself, seeking freedom from passion in order to achieve intellectual tranquility. The Christian monks, by contrast, sought detachment from created things in order to achieve greater attachment to the Creator. Their goal was not the elimination of emotion but its proper ordering—learning to care most about what matters most and to hold lightly what matters least.
This distinction becomes crucial for contemporary application. The believer who seeks to develop Christian acceptance is not pursuing emotional numbness or moral indifference but rather emotional maturity and spiritual wisdom. The goal is not to cease caring about outcomes but to care about them in proper proportion and with appropriate detachment from personal control over them.
Practical Applications for Contemporary Believers
The translation of these theological and historical insights into practical disciplines for contemporary believers requires careful attention to the particular challenges of our cultural moment. We live in an age that promises unprecedented control over our circumstances while simultaneously confronting us with global challenges that highlight our collective limitations. The result is often a peculiar combination of inflated expectations and paralyzing anxiety—we believe we should be able to manage outcomes that lie beyond our individual capacity while feeling overwhelmed by problems that exceed any individual’s ability to solve.
The Discipline of Present-Moment Acknowledgment
One of the most practical applications of acceptance involves learning to acknowledge present reality without immediately moving to strategies for changing it. This discipline begins with the simple practice of naming what is actually happening: “I am experiencing anxiety about tomorrow’s meeting.” “My spouse and I are having difficulties in our marriage.” “My teenage daughter is making choices that worry me.” “I have been diagnosed with a serious illness.”
This naming serves multiple purposes. First, it forces us to confront reality as it is rather than as we wish it were or fear it might become. Second, it creates psychological distance between ourselves and our circumstances, allowing us to observe our situation rather than being overwhelmed by it. Third, it opens space for appropriate response rather than reactive behavior.
The key to this practice lies in the temporary suspension of problem-solving activity. Instead of immediately moving from acknowledgment of difficulty to strategies for addressing it, we allow ourselves to experience the reality of our circumstances without rushing to change them. This does not mean abandoning appropriate action, but it does mean taking time to understand clearly what we are facing before determining how to respond.
This discipline proves particularly valuable when dealing with chronic conditions or long-term challenges that do not admit of quick solutions. The parent of a child with special needs learns to acknowledge the daily realities of their situation without being constantly consumed by efforts to change what cannot be changed. The individual facing unemployment learns to acknowledge the reality of his economic situation without being paralyzed by anxiety about future security. The believer dealing with chronic illness learns to acknowledge the limitations her condition imposes without being defined by those limitations.
Learning to Hold Preferences Lightly
Another practical application involves developing the capacity to maintain preferences while holding them with appropriate looseness. This discipline recognizes that human beings naturally develop desires and expectations about how their lives should unfold, and that such desires are not inherently problematic. The problem arises when preferences become demands—when we insist that reality conform to our expectations rather than learning to adapt our expectations to reality.
The practice begins with the identification and acknowledgment of our preferences in various areas of life. What do we hope will happen in our careers, our relationships, our health, our financial circumstances? What outcomes do we fear? What scenarios do we find most difficult to imagine accepting? By bringing these preferences into conscious awareness, we create the possibility of holding them more lightly.
The next step involves the regular practice of what might be called “preference suspension”—the temporary relinquishment of attachment to particular outcomes. This might take the form of prayer: “Lord, I would prefer that this job interview goes well, but I trust your wisdom more than my own understanding of what would be best for me.” Or it might involve meditation: spending time contemplating how we might respond faithfully if our preferences are not realized.
This practice does not require the elimination of preferences or the pretense that all outcomes are equally desirable. The parent facing her child’s wedding naturally hopes for good weather, and there is nothing unspiritual about such hope. But she also prepares emotionally and practically for the possibility of rain, recognizing that her child’s happiness and the significance of the occasion do not ultimately depend on meteorological cooperation.
The Rhythm of Effort and Release
Perhaps the most sophisticated application of acceptance involves learning to balance appropriate effort with appropriate release—working diligently to address changeable circumstances while maintaining inner peace about ultimate outcomes. This rhythm requires both practical wisdom (to discern what can be changed) and spiritual maturity (to release what cannot be changed).
The rhythm begins with careful analysis of any challenging situation to identify which elements lie within our sphere of influence and which do not. The student preparing for an important examination can control her study habits, her sleep schedule, and her approach to the material, but she cannot control the specific questions that will be asked, her physical health on the day of the exam, or the grading standards of her professor. Wisdom involves focusing energy on the first category while releasing anxiety about the second.
This analysis requires honest assessment of our actual capacities and limitations. We often exhaust ourselves trying to control outcomes that lie beyond our influence while neglecting areas where we do possess genuine agency. The parent who spends sleepless nights worrying about his adult child’s life choices might better invest that energy in examining his own attitudes and behaviors in their relationship—the only aspects of the relationship over which he has direct control.
The rhythm of effort and release also requires what might be called “temporal realism”—the recognition that meaningful change often requires more time than we would prefer and that some changes may not occur within the timeframes we consider acceptable. The individual working to overcome a long-standing pattern of behavior learns to maintain hope for eventual transformation while accepting that such transformation may take years rather than weeks. The couple seeking to rebuild their marriage after a breach of trust learns to work diligently on necessary repairs while accepting that healing may be gradual and that setbacks are normal parts of the process.
Practical Exercises for Developing Acceptance
Several concrete practices can help contemporary believers develop greater capacity for acceptance:
Daily Examen of Acceptance: Each evening, review the day’s events and identify moments when you resisted unchangeable circumstances and moments when you practiced acceptance. What patterns emerge? What triggers resistance? What conditions make acceptance easier?
The “Nevertheless” Prayer: Model your prayers on Jesus’ Gethsemane prayer by expressing your honest preferences while concluding with “Nevertheless, not my will but yours be done.” This practice trains the heart in the discipline of relinquishment while maintaining authentic relationship with God.
Worst-Case Scenario Planning: Periodically engage in careful consideration of outcomes you most fear, not to increase anxiety but to develop emotional and practical resources for dealing with difficult possibilities. How would you maintain faith and find purpose if your marriage ended, your career failed, or your health deteriorated significantly?
Gratitude for Present Circumstances: Practice finding elements of your current situation for which you can be genuinely grateful, even when those circumstances include significant challenges. This discipline does not require dishonest positivity but does involve training attention to recognize gifts that might otherwise be overlooked.
Community Practice: Seek opportunities to practice acceptance in low-stakes situations with others. The friend who always arrives late provides opportunities to practice patience. The relative whose political views differ from your own provides opportunities to practice loving disagreement. The spouse whose habits annoy you provides opportunities to practice forbearance.
The goal of these practices is not the achievement of perfect acceptance—a standard that would itself represent a form of spiritual pride—but the gradual development of greater freedom from the tyranny of circumstances. The believer who learns to accept what cannot be changed discovers energies for addressing what can be changed, resources for maintaining peace in the midst of turmoil, and capacity for finding meaning even in experiences that seem to contradict everything he believes about divine love and human dignity.
This first pillar of endurance—the paradox of surrender—provides the foundation for all that follows. Without the willingness to accept what cannot be changed, the other pillars become exercises in self-improvement rather than spiritual formation. With it, they become means by which the believer learns to participate in the sufferings of Christ and to discover, even in the midst of trial, the peace that passes understanding.
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