The Truth Is In The Trials

Our culture runs with the assumption that “image is everything”. We tend to value appearance even over quality. And we tend to judge quality largely upon appearances. Just consider the evolution of the American automobile industry, or any other mass-produced product. Things are built with a short shelf-life. It is true “we don’t make things like we used to.” If we did, many companies would be considerably less successful.  

You have heard of the phrase- “the proof is in the pudding.” The phrase refers to the fact that you have to try out food to truly know whether it is good or not. You can’t simply look at it. The same is true regarding a person’s faith. The quality of a person’s faith is revealed not simply by appearances, but through testing. That is, you don’t really know what a person believes until they are tried. The truth is in the trials. This is the point Peter makes in 1 Pet 1:6-7.

6 In this you rejoice, though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been grieved by various trials, 7 so that the tested genuineness of your faith—more precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fire—may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ. (1 Pet 1:6-7)

As a culture, we tend to value appearance more than genuine quality. It is often said that the first impression is what matters. The Bible assesses things differently.  The genuineness of faith is what matters. It is all that matters. It is also the decisive reason why a believer can still rejoice in the face of overwhelming grief. Because trials prove the genuineness of faith. 

As a culture we tend to assess quality upon superficial appearance, the church also has a tendency to do this. We are tempted to assess the reality (quality) of a person’s faith rather quickly. Therefore, when trials come and show the reality of where a person is at, we should not be shocked. As Jesus said in his parable of the sower, not all the seed sown will last (Mark 4:20-22). The amount of service somebody does, the volume their voice while singing praise, the amount of money they give, the amount of people they have led to Christ—none of these prove the reality of faith. They might be the fruit of faith, but they might be the fruit of self-love as well. 

The real evidence of genuine faith is seen when what we love is taken away. A trial, simply put, is a dashed desire. When we lose what we love—how do we respond? Do we curse God and seek to die? Or do we respond like Job and say, “the Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away blessed be the name of the Lord” When one can grieve over the loss and yet rejoice, it is because their ultimate hope (the source of their joy) is secure. The reason that believers rejoice in their trials is because their faith is proven to be genuine in the trial (cf. James 1:2-3). The trial proves that they are not fakes, but truly born-again by the power of the Holy Spirit. 

Nothing else can prove the reality of faith like a trial. Peter likens the nature of the testing to gold being refined by fire. When gold is refined, the fire separates the impurities from the pure element, so that pure gold results. The fire refines, it also proves that the gold was real. The fire of trials prove the supernatural nature of faith—that it is genuinely from God.  

In J.R.R. Tolkien’s the Fellowship of the Ring, Gandalf tested Bilbo’s ring by throwing it in the fire. The fact that it was not consumed or even heated by the flames, demonstrated its supernatural origin. Likewise, real faith is not destroyed through trials, rather it is proved to be supernatural. 

When a believer’s faith is shown to be of supernatural origin, it shows how precious it is as well—more precious than gold that perishes. It is more precious, because gold perishes and maintains its value only on this side of the grave. But genuine faith cannot be destroyed. It can be tested; but if it is real, it is proven real through the testing. Therefore, believers rejoice in their trials because their trials assure them that they have something that can never be taken away. Without a doubt they are truly and finally saved. Amy Carmichael once wrote, 

“One day we took the children to see a goldsmith refine gold after the ancient manner of the East. He was sitting beside his little charcoal fire. ("He shall sit as a refiner"; the gold- or silversmith never leaves his crucible once it is on the fire.) In the red glow lay a common curved roof tile; another tile covered it like a lid. This was the crucible. In it was the medicine made of salt, tamarind fruit and burnt brick dust, and imbedded in it was the gold. The medicine does its appointed work on the gold, "then the fire eats it," and the goldsmith lifts the gold out with a pair of tongs, lets it cool, rubs it between his fingers, and if not satisfied puts it back again in fresh medicine. This time he blows the fire hotter than it was before, and each time he puts the gold into the crucible, the heat of the fire is increased; "it could not bear it so hot at first, but it can bear it now; what would have destroyed it then helps it now." "How do you know when the gold is purified?" we asked him, and he answered, "When I can see my face in it [the liquid gold in the crucible] then it is pure.”― Amy Carmichael, Gold Cord.