Embracing Obscurity: Becoming Nothing in Light of God’s Everything

by Anonymous

Just because we can have high position or authority doesn’t mean we should choose it.

I love this parable more each time I read it. Take a look at the priorities of the first three kingly candidates. The olive tree, the fig tree, and the grape vine each turn down an office of power, influence, ease, recognition, and even usefulness, in favor of being true to their God-appointed purpose: serving God and man. Why should they rule over the trees when they could bless, honor, give, and cheer right where they were planted? The olive, fig, and vine each chose obscurity over fame because they understood the high calling and pleasures of service. Such wisdom in their response!

Andrew Murray said, “Being servants of all is the highest fulfillment of our destiny, as men created in the image of God.”5

In A Path through Suffering, Elisabeth Elliot muses, “The word suffering is much too grand to apply to most of our troubles, but if we don’t learn to refer the little things to God how shall we learn to refer the big ones?”3 Perhaps that’s why her definition of suffering seems so fitting: Having what you don’t want, or wanting what you don’t have.4

it’s in the little “sufferings” of demotions, hard breaks, layoffs, out-of-state moves, and menial jobs that we learn to defer to God our dreams of being well-known, respected, and admired. It’s in these trenches that we realize God is big and we are small, where we exchange our will—our dreams, desires, and plans—for the opportunity to make much of Him and less of ourselves.

As you think more deeply about the role suffering plays in helping you embrace obscurity, obvious losses may come quickly to mind (e.g., the death of a loved one, a chronic illness, etc.). But I hope you’ll also bear in mind: (1) the things in your life that you wish weren’t there, (2) those things you want to have but don’t, and (3) anything you want to be but aren’t.

Suffering is essential to distinguish our motives. In the quagmire of our fallen hearts, we can have a hard time differentiating between pure motives and pride, selfless service and our own ambition. As God refines us “in the furnace of suffering” (Isa. 48:10 nlt), our true motivations are revealed. Through the fire of affliction, the dross floats to the surface, and we’re forced to own up to the junk we see there and deal with it.

While you and I may not worship Rimmon as Naaman had, suffering has a way of stripping away our own false gods—idols like ambition, a perfect romance, material things, and the other “things of the world” we discussed in chapter 5.

I think of the guy who works for a company he really can’t stand. Yet he goes, day after day, and spends eight hours between cubicle walls making phone calls and filling in data sheets. He has what he doesn’t want: a so-called dead-end job with no promotion in sight. He stands at a crossroads. On one hand, he could go out and look for another job that better “confirms his worth.” Or he could embrace obscurity and accept that his worth doesn’t depend on the cool factor of his occupation. He could allow this daily suffering to transform him and enable him to have more to give—Christ’s love, plus a wealth of compassion and patience—to his coworkers, bosses, or others who find themselves in a similar situation.

There’s a startling trend in Christian thinking about suffering. Though subtle, this misconception is no less dangerous than many other of Satan’s lies. I call it the “Joseph Principle,” and it goes like this: If I am suffering in obscurity today, God must be preparing me for something greater, better, or more prominent later in life.

If you’ve ever been fired, come up second (or tenth), been broken up with, or had any hope deferred, you’ve likely heard the well-meaning encouragement: “Don’t worry—God just has something even better in store for you!” or “All things work together for good!” or maybe even, “You just keep working hard, and you’ll get what you want in the end.” I guess we give one another these platitudes for one of two reasons: (1) we really believe that suffering inevitably leads to bigger and better, or (2) we hate to kick someone when they’re down by telling them the hard truth: sometimes suffering only leads to our greater obscurity but God’s greater glory.

The Bible is wrought with examples of God’s doing things for His own glory. Refining our hearts is no exception: “I have refined you in the furnace of suffering, … yes, for my own sake!” (Isa. 48:10–11 nlt). He goes on to say that Isaiah doesn’t want his reputation tarnished by idols; He refuses to let the recognition due Him go to them. It was true in how He dealt with Israel, and it is true in how He deals with us. God more often allows us to suffer to refine our own hearts and purge us from idols than to prepare us for “greatness.”5

This isn’t an easy pill to swallow. The simple fact is that we like to view every setback through the lens of inevitable success: “Rejected again? That’s okay. It will only sound that much better when I’m famous to have had such humble beginnings.” Or “Yeah, she dumped me, but I know God has someone even better lined up down the road.” “I’m broke now, but God is only teaching me to manage my money wisely now so He can trust me with more later.” Or, to paraphrase a popular blog post I read this morning, “My time in the ‘waiting room’ of life is just a season of growth and development, getting me ready for my moment on the stage.” We comfort ourselves with this kind of self-talk because it’s far more soothing than the thought of suffering for the sole purpose of God’s glory or—heaven forbid—having to embrace obscurity indefinitely.

Romans 8:28 is most often used to support the Joseph Principle, “We know that all things work together for the good of those who love God: those who are called according to His purpose.” This is true—absolutely true. But to freely interchange the word “good” in that verse with the world’s definition of success is a gross misinterpretation. Yes, God works all—even our suffering—for our good, but the end result may well look different than you had hoped. Will you still trust God if your “good” is to go on embracing obscurity—living in simplicity and devotion to Him—your entire life? What if your “good” is to understand the deepest depths of suffering so that you have more to give to others who walk through dar...

All of God’s ways are good and true. Although His plans may not look like ours, we can trust that God is in fact “for us.” Embracing obscurity allows us to relinquish our dreams for and to Him—to...

God’s ways are not our ways, and His crucible isn’t always to prepare us for fame or even financial stability.

If we are seeking glory, honor, and immortality before God, daily and quiet persistence, faithfulness and obedience is the road to get there. Anonymous sufferings are actually the best kind, Jesus tells us—otherwise, others might recognize us and compliment us and that, alone, will be our reward. Gary Thomas6

all suffering in this life—no matter how small or how crippling—is incomparable with what’s to come. “Our momentary light affliction is producing for us an absolutely incomparable eternal weight of glory. So we do not focus on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal” (2 Cor. 4:17–18). Bottom line: There’s no suffering in this life that even comes close to overshadowing the glory that will be revealed in us (Rom. 8:18). Amen?

When we accept our suffering as an opportunity to have more to give rather than get, humility is born. And this kind of humility—the kind Christ modeled for us—you’ll remember, is the beginning of embracing obscurity.

The question is not whether we will be seen as fools—that part is certain—but when and by whom we will be seen as fools. Better to be seen as fools now in the eyes of other people—including other Christians—than to be seen as fools forever in the eyes of the Audience of One, whose judgment ultimately matters. Randy Alcorn1

The path of the Christian life often leads in the opposite direction of the world around us. First Corinthians 4:10 says, “Our dedication to Christ makes us look like fools” (nlt).If learning to embrace obscurity is part of our dedication to Christ, then becoming nothing in light of God’s everything might just make us look insane to the rest of the world.

Christ says the world will hate us. Which begs another question: If our lifestyle doesn’t even raise the eyebrows of the world, what does that say about our devotion to the gospel?

What is the gospel? It’s the good news. It’s the best news. It’s the news that, once heard, should permeate every cell of our being and affect every decision we make ever after. It’s the news that fills up every longing and satisfies our deepest craving. It’s the news that enables us to live our lives persecuted yet full of peace, displaced yet moving with direction, unknown by the world, but known intimately by One. The gospel is the news that makes it feasible to look like a fool today because of what awaits us for all our tomorrows.

Being Known. This is the crux, isn’t it? It’s like each of us has one lottery ticket. There’s a chance we could be a world-changer, and we don’t want to quit until we’ve played the game. If we can make our mark on something—anything—before we die, then you’d better believe we’re going to take that chance. We don’t want to be unknown. We want the world’s approval on our lives. We want to be remembered.

God’s Approval. “God opposes the proud but favors the humble” (James 4:6; 1 Pet. 5:5 nlt). As difficult as is the prospect of living without earthly praise, the thought of living without divine approval is terrifying. God’s nod is far more substantial and satisfying than any title or award the world can give, and God approves of our obedience.

Oswald Chambers put it this way: If we obey God it is going to cost other people more than it costs us, and that is where the sting comes in. If we are in love with our Lord, obedience does not cost us anything, it is a delight, but it costs those who do not love Him a good deal. If we obey God it will mean that other people’s plans are upset, and they will gibe us with it—“You call this Christianity?” We can prevent the suffering; but if we are going to obey God, we must not prevent it, we must let the cost be paid.

Every cult of personality that emphasizes the distinguished qualities, virtues, and talents of another person, even though these be of an altogether spiritual nature, is worldly and has no place in the Christian community; indeed, it poisons the Christian community. Dietrich Bonhoeffer1

we are never in more danger of glossing over our pride than during our time in the spotlight. The danger of self-deception is acute. I have good motivations, we reason, to expand my platform. I’m only looking for more influence so I can point more people to Christ. Are you sure you want to bank on that? Jeremiah 17:9 warns that “the heart is more deceitful than anything else and desperately incurable—who can understand it?” Ain’t that the truth! Most of us have less noble (albeit largely unintentional) motivations to lead and be known.

your significance to God never was and never will be based on your accomplishments. Just because you’ve now done something “important” doesn’t mean you weren’t just as foolish, powerless, despised, or worthless (in the world’s eyes) when God chose you to be His. Do you remember why? Verse 29 reminds us that the whole reason God chooses the nobodies of this world—like you and like me—for His kingdom work is so that “no one can ever boast in the presence of God” (nlt). “If you want to boast, boast only about the Lord” (v. 31 nlt). God wanted to make sure that the hood we came from (literally or otherwise) would keep us from getting big heads about our present and future successes. Let’s say it together now: I am not that important (see Gal. 6:3). (There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?)

My purpose is not to praise myself. My purpose is not to make my name great. My purpose is not to get rich. My purpose is not to gain authority over others for my ego’s sake. My purpose is not to leave brothers and sisters in the dust of my ambition. My purpose is not to make others feel small. My purpose is not to become self-sufficient. My purpose is not to earn a five-star rating from the masses.

The purpose of my influential position is to make God’s name great, to advance His kingdom on Earth, and to serve others.

I don’t know everything.

I have limited time and energy.

I’m not morally invincible.

I’m not irreplaceable.

God doesn’t need me and He doesn’t need you. He can get the job done (any job) without us.

Like Saul, God often removes those who don’t guard themselves from the dangers of pride, greed, lust, etc. But your time of influence might be a short season even if you do play by all the rules. Fame is fleeting. Embrace your moment in the spotlight while you’re in it, and don’t question God when the time comes to step backstage. “For [His] thoughts are not your thoughts, and your ways are not [His] ways” (Isa. 55:8). Even if we never know God’s reasoning, we can trust that He is acting in His best interest and ours when He causes the curtain to close on even our best efforts.

If we wait to unwrap the gift in the right context, enjoyment is heightened. The same is true of glory, honor, and immortality. God intends us to have it but not in this life. Not in these bodies, where sin can so easily taint our enjoyment and warp our discretion. “Being known” is one of the gifts we can forego today, and tomorrow, and the rest of this life—to enjoy the full spectrum of pleasures forevermore. He will give eternal life to those who keep on doing good, seeking after the glory and honor and immortality that God offers. (Rom. 2:7 nlt)

When we stop living for ourselves now, and instead obey the truth of God’s Word, so much more awaits us on the other side of death.

By faith Moses, when he had grown up, refused to be called the son of Pharaoh’s daughter and chose to suffer with the people of God rather than to enjoy the short-lived pleasure of sin. For he considered the reproach because of the Messiah to be greater wealth than the treasures of Egypt, since his attention was on the reward. (Heb. 11:24–26, emphasis added)

You will die. Maybe today; maybe fifty years from now. How will you spend the seconds, hours, days, and years you have left? Will you waste your time loving the things of this world, worrying about your star rating, and focusing on your success? Or will you invest the remainder of your life “seeking after the glory and honor and immortality that God offers”? Will you take on the disposition of Christ, submitting to God’s will, loving justice and mercy, serving selflessly and loving fully? Will you walk worthy of the glorious gospel—even if no one ever knows your name?