Only Survivors Hurt by Scott Graham November 11, 2020 · Centerpointe Apostolic Church (Murfreesboro, TN) Kind: sermon Scripture: 2 Corinthians 4:7-9, 2 Corinthians 4:16-18, 2 Corinthians 4:8-9, 1 Samuel 14:2-3 Source: https://acts238.life/repository/sermons/scott-graham--only-survivors-hurt-2 Published by Acts 2:38 Life from the sermon transcript on that page. Free to copy and share with attribution. ------------------------------------------------------------ The beautiful touch of God's glory here — his presence is everywhere. His glory is localized. You can't go anywhere to get away from his presence. We — we preachers say funny stuff. We do. We say things like: Let's all stand our feet. Is there another option? It really is. We say — one day I was — my wife got the card after I'd preached, and she said: You know, when you got up to preach today, you said, If you have your Bibles, I'll be reading from Matthew chapter 12. She said: If we didn't have our Bibles, we going to read from First Chronicles 3? That's a good point. It's a good point. We say things like: Let's invite the presence of the Lord into this place. I got news for you: before we got here, the presence of Lord was in this place. You're not going to flee anyplace from his presence. It's what nags you in the middle of the night and tries to call you to his side. He — you know, David, psalmist, said: If I — if I make my bed in hell, you're there. Where am I going to flee from your presence? But the glory of the Lord is not — it's localized. And the glory of the Lord has been made manifest in this place this morning. And I thank God for the touch of his glory that is here. Amen. Amen. Brother Jeff, you can ignore everything I said to you earlier today by email. Just — I'm sorry. You can find for me Second Corinthians chapter four and verse number seven. I apologize. No, I don't. Um. I'm — I'm I'm sorry. It's difficult. But I don't apologize for trying to follow after God. Second Corinthians chapter four and verse seven. And while you're finding that, can I just offer an observation to you that I have learned through the years? And that is that not all great men are good, and not all good men are great. But you're a blessed congregation, because the man that shepherds you and leads you — I'm, of of the opinion, after having spent two or three days with him here, that he is a great man, but he is a good man. And I honor your pastor today, and commend him highly. Your bishop I have bragged on all over the country. He doesn't know that — don't tell him. But I have bragged on him, and what an incredible man I think he is, from interactions we have had. You're just — you know, I've got a good friend that says: God blesses everybody, but he spoils me. And you're not just blessed. You're just spoiled. Amen. It's been a joy to spend time with your leadership team these last few days. And I have a real unction to preach for a little bit here this morning. Now, you can take comfort in the fact that I have a flight this afternoon to catch to go home, so be encouraged, okay? Second Corinthians chapter four, and I'll read beginning in verse seven. The Bible says: But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, that the excellency of the power may be of God, not of us. Because, see, here's our condition: We are troubled on every side, but not distressed. We are perplexed, but not in despair. Persecuted, yeah, but not forsaken. Cast down from time to time, but not destroyed. Always bearing about in the body the dying of the Lord Jesus, that the life also of Jesus may be made manifest in our bodies. Let's jump down to verse 16: For which cause we faint not. But though our outward man perish, yet the inward man is renewed day by day. Now, I want to remind you: he talked about troubled on every side, perplexed, persecuted, cast down. And look at this next line: For our light affliction — it doesn't seem to line up somehow — our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory. While we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen. For all the stuff going on in my life, all the stuff I can look at, that's just temporal. But the things which are not seen, the things you can't see in my life, those are eternal. I'm going to hold my title for just a few moments, and I will share it with you just in just a few. If you're — if you'll smile, you can be seated. But if you're going to be a grump, just please remain standing so we can spot you. Two or three of you just lied. But we'll have alter service after a while. Life have some unfortunate truths, which from our fleshly perspective we certainly wish weren't so. It seems like living here would be so much easier if we just didn't face the realities of life that come to us all. But they do. Disappointments. Betrayed trusts. Painful moments. Dark valleys. Hard seasons. Broken promises. Devastating diagnoses. Wounded spirits. Hate to break it to you, but they are just simply a part of our existence here, due to the fall of man. If Adam had never partaken of that one forbidden tree, we would not have to be familiar with words like heal or restore. They wouldn't mean anything to us, because nothing would ever be lost. If it weren't for the effect of sin in the world, there would be nothing in our lives to restore. We would know only days of joy and perfect harmony, and just — life would be a bed of roses, reclined in a hammock, sipping pink lemonade every day. But that's not real. And I got a news flash for you: getting saved doesn't stop the hard days. We — we lie to folk when we sing that song that has this one line in it — you may sing it, we do too, but I hate it — that line that says: I'm on a cloud from the first moment to the last. Some days I'm in the cloud. But we create this image, and if you're born again, every day you're just floating around on clouds, and there's never a challenge. And I tell you, that is not real. Real is that you're gonna go through a lot of the same stuff that other people go through. But you don't go through it alone. The beauty of living for God is that even when my joy is under attack, I've still got a God that pours out the oil of gladness in my life. The reality is that even though my peace may be under attack, I still have the Prince of Peace walking with me. The reality is I may go through some tough times. But God says: I will never leave you, nor forsake you. Real life is real. The reality is that all of us are going to experience those difficult aspects of life. If you thought being born again was going to get you to get out of jail free card, where you'd never have another challenging day — sorry. You will deal with the bitter taste of disappointments. You will wrestle with the questions of faith. Your world will be rocked at times by news so shocking that it takes your breath away and rips sleep out of your eyes. You will have moments when hope seems distant, and victory seems absent, and living for God seems dreary. Those moments when pain becomes your constant companion and your faithful tormentor, until thoughts that we never thought we'd entertain go through our mind: Maybe I should just quit. Maybe I should just walk away from the church. It'll probably never get better. Where is God right now? Why is it like this? Say, boy, aren't you happy cheery today? Just give me a minute. I tell you today: we better have an answer for pain, because pain is going to come. And if we don't have an answer for it, it can knock us from our position where we stand with God. I preach to you today that pain cannot be ignored. Pain has to be dealt with. Pain has to be answered. And I feel like God sent me to this pulpit this morning to give you an answer to your pain. All right, here we go. He is a treasure in Missouri. I speak today about an elder pastor in our district. His name is Gerald Hamlet. He is an extraordinarily kind man. In September of 2017, Brother and Sister Hamlin endured a very frightening episode in their life. He — they're they're — they're about 80 years old, or were at that time. And he was driving her home from a doctor's appointment in our capital city of Jefferson City. They were on a four-lane highway at 65 miles an hour, and something happened. We're not sure what yet. He blacked out, somehow. Fell asleep, lost control. Nobody — they don't know exactly what happened. He nodded off, or something. But they were on a four-lane highway at highway speeds. He was in the right-hand lane when he went out. He drifted across the left-hand lane. He drifted across the median. He went across the lanes of oncoming traffic. He went down an embankment, through a fence, and stopped in an open farmer's field. Now, God was merciful to him, because they didn't hit anything. They didn't hit an oncoming pole. They didn't an oncoming car. They didn't hit a light pole. They didn't hit a tree. They didn't hit a cow. Hit anything. They just came to rest in this farmer's field. But you have to imagine that at 65 miles an hour, that was quite the ride through the median. Witnesses said they went airborne. The car hit and bounced, and down that hill, and threw a ditch, and out into a field, through a fence. And it shook him up pretty bad, naturally. Airbags went off and pounded against him. I called him to check on him a couple days later, spoke with him. He's a — he's a great old guy. Ask him how he's doing. He said: Well, Brother Graham, you know, you're as old as we are. We don't bounce back very quick. I was trying to be nice. I said: Oh, Brother Hamlet, you're not old. He is. He said: Not old. He said: Brother Graham, I went to a restaurant the other day and ordered a three-minute egg, and they made me pay in advance. So that's kind of old. So I said — well, I said — I just, just, but but how are you doing, Brother Hamlet? On that phone said something to me that is the essence of what I want to preach to you today. And it will not be a downer, and it will not be discouraging. I just tried to set the tone of what life is like for us, for a minute. But he looked over that phone at me — or looked — he spoke to me over the phone, and he said words I could not get my pen out fast enough to write down. He said: Brother Graham, here's the bottom line: I'm hurting, but only survivors hurt. He said: I may be in pain today, but the good news is, I'm still here. I may be hurting today, but that's only cause it didn't kill me. I may be hurting today, but that's cause it couldn't take me out. I'm preaching to somebody today that needs to tell hell: I may be hurting, but that's cause I'm still here. I may be hurting, but you couldn't kill me. I may be hurting, but it didn't stop me. I may be hurting, but I'm still surviving. I need somebody to confuse the belly of hell right now, and say: You thought it was the end. You told me it was over. But I've still got to praise. I can still worship. I'm still here. It may hurt, but only survivors hurt. I wish I had profound for you. Come back next Sunday when your pastor preaches, and you'll get profound. I'm just telling you that it might have hurt you, but the only reason you're hurting today is that your situation — as dark and as disheartening and as disappointment as it may have been — is not the end of the story. Pain screams out of testimony today. Listen to what pain says: You're still alive. You're still here. You're still saved. You made it farther than you thought you could. It didn't kill you. Satan thought he had you, but you came through. He told you about Tuesday you'd never come back to church. But you came into church on Sunday saying: I may be hurting, but devil, I'm still going to enter this place with thanksgiving on my lips. I'm still got to shout my feet. I've still got a shout in my voice. Come on, somebody, you need to shake off what the devil's trying to chain you up with, and say: Yes, I'm hurting. It hurts. I wish it hadn't happened. But I'm still here. I'm still alive. I'm still serving. I'm still here. See, Satan — his purpose, the Bible tells us, is to steal, and to kill, and to destroy. And instead, all he could do was wound. I hope you'll get what I'm about to say right here: Pain does not testify to your failure. Pain testifies to hell's failure. I'm about to a man myself. Pain doesn't mean you failed. Pain means hell failed. It wanted to kill you and destroy you. But all it can do is hurt you. Your pain says hell couldn't do what it wanted. Your pain says hell couldn't complete what it started. Your pain says: I'm still here. I'm still here. I'm — I need somebody to dance in spite of it. I need somebody to tell heaven: I'm still here. Somebody needs to tell hell: I'm still here. You couldn't do what you wanted. I'm a survivor. I'm still trying to ride this horse. You may be hurting, but you're still here. You may be hurting, but he couldn't kill you. You may be hurting, but you're the victor. You may be hurting, but you're a survivor. You're still believing. You're still trusted. You're still praying. You're still worshiping. Every now and then you just gotta confuse hell. So I thought: Surely he would not go down front and worship this Sunday. Pastor told me about this propensity you all have to come down front worship. Martial church does that too. I love it. But I really love it when hell thinks they've beat somebody up enough that week: Surely this week they will just sit there and be still. Surely this week they won't have any sacrifice of praise. Surely this week they won't get out of the aisle and show out for Jesus. Because look how I've hurt them. But somebody's got to rise up and say: It's because you've heard me that I'm still celebrating. Cause you couldn't kill me. He'll deal with this. I'm still here. I'm still here. I'm still here. You thought it was over. You told me I had no hope. But I'm still here. I'm still praising. I may be hurting, but only survivors hurt. I preached to somebody in pain today: worship anyway. I preach to somebody that's disappointed: be a praiser anyway. I preach to somebody that's been betrayed: be a praise or any way. You're a survivor. I ain't going to add to scripture. Can you — you got that verse? Can you read that for me real quick? I — I'm not going to add the scripture. I just want to adjust your lens of how you read it. I read it to you earlier, but maybe we'll focus on it a little differently. This is out of the text I read you. It's verse 8 of 2 Corinthians 4. What's it say? We are not troubled on every side. I'm hurting. Yet weird stressed — not distressed. I survived. We are perplexed. I'm hurting, but not in despair. I survived. Persecuted. I'm hurting, but not forsaken. I survived. Cast down. I'm hurting, but not destroyed. Devil, I'm still here. And if you don't understand why she's doing that, that's just cause you haven't felt her pain. If you don't understand why she's doing that, that's just cause you haven't felt her pain. But if you came in here wounded, if you came in here bruised, if you came in you're disappointed, if you came in discouraged — somebody needs to — you need to take your heart down off the willow and say: I'm here. I survived. I survived. I survived. And the only reason I'm hurting is it couldn't kill me. Pain refines me. Pain purifies me. Pain matures me. Pain develops me. I will go on record today: I'm a better man today because of my pain. I'm closer to God today because of my pain. My prayer life is richer because of my pain. My worship means more because of my pain. I don't like it, and I'll rejoice when it ends. But this light affliction, it's working out something better for me. Because there's going to come a day he's going to wipe the tears out of my eyes, and pain will be no more. And I'll go dancing on golden streets. But until that day — on that day I'll have victory over by pain. Today I've got victory through my pain. High, and a survivor. And only survivors hurt. But we live in this, don't we? Some of you today saw some of these folks down worse. But go wet. I wish my wife was — wish my life was perfect like theirs is . No, no. You're assuming that their praise means they don't have any pain. I'm assuming their praise means they have pain. I'm assuming your worship, wherever you are, front or back — I'm not knocking anybody that didn't come down here. What I assume when I see you worship is they've been wounded, but they're still here. All right, so I tell you what we got to do for one another today. I'll let you be seated a minute if you want. I don't want you to be uncomfortable. You can stand or sit or whatever. His name is shrouded in infamy. No one today names their son after him. Who would have a child that you love, and name that boy: No Glory? He — Ichabod — he had a dark legacy. It didn't have to be that way. His grandfather Eli was a high priest, only the seventh in Israel's history. But Eli's son Phineas was a corrupt man. It was wicked and vile. And so the judgment of God was pronounced against him, and carried out in the battle of the Philistines, while that little boy in question was still in his mother's womb. During a disastrous day for the nation, his father Phineas and his uncle Hoffnai were killed in battle. And have even more terrible consequence: the ark of the covenant was stolen by the enemy. When word of this horror returned, the babe's grandfather Eli fell over backwards off the bench where he sat, and died of a broken neck. Then the baby's mother dies, delivering him in childbirth. Consider it: his father, his mother, his uncle, and his grandfather all die on the day of his birth, and the ark of the covenant is seized by the Philistines. It's really not that great a surprise, I suppose, on a day marked by such pain and despair, that when he was born the midwife named him as she did: Ichabod. We've sanitized the name somewhat. "The glory has departed" sounds nicer. But it really just means: no glory. And it really doesn't just mean the statement. It's — it's a lament. It was: No glory. Now, how'd you like to have that name growing up? It's like going to school, and every time they call roll: No Glory, here. How'd you like to be out in the park, the kids are picking up teams play ball: All right, we'll take No Glory. Stick him in the right field. I mean, every time his name was breathed, it brought up his pain. Every time anyone spoke about him — despite the fact that it wasn't his fault, and he had nothing to do with it — he was labeled by the hurt in his past. All the disappointments of his yesterdays were recalled and recounted every time his name was breathed. And every time anybody called out "Ichabod," those nearby shivered. It was a terrible label to wear. Such was the pain that he journeyed through life from the moment his first breath is recorded. And even though he was the grandson of the high priest, we read nothing about his life from the moment of his birth on. But much to my surprise, Pastor — and I don't know how I missed it all this time — Ichabod had a brother. You want to get me First Samuel 14 and 2, just, and 3? In First Samuel 14, we read about King Saul resting under a pomegranate tree with several of his men. And in the listing of the men there, we read this, in First Samuel 14 and 2: And Saul tarried in the uttermost part of Gibeah, under a pomegranate tree which is in Migron. And the people that were with him were about 600 men. Verse three: And Ahaya, the son of Aeotab — look, Ichabod's brother — the son of Phinehas, the son of Eli, the Lord's priest, said Shiloh, wearing it ephod. And the people knew not that Jonathan was gone. It records in that verse that either was Ichabod's brother. He had to be older, of course, because Ichabod's mom and dad died the day of his birth. So this is his older brother. He would have become — he would have been in line to be the high priest. He probably was the high priest after Phineas was killed in battle, because he was fitting a son. He had a brother. What is amazing to me — and getting ready to be excited again — is what his name means. When I stumbled on this, I got cleaned up out of my chair and ran a lap around my desk. I looked it up in four different qualified resources, because I just could not hardly believe the providence of the kindness of God. Because No Glory's brother — his name, Haotab — it means: My brother is good. Before Ichabod had even been conceived, before the disaster had even struck his family, God had a brother for him whose name meant: My brother is good. I'm preaching to somebody today, that I know you may be going through some tough stuff, but God's got something for you. He's got a brother out here that'll put an arm around your shoulder, and say: You are not labeled by your past. My brother is good. I want somebody to know: you're not in this thing alone. You may be hurting, but you're not alone. You may be suffering, but you're not alone. You've got a brother that wants to come alongside you and say: I don't care what hell says about you. I still believe in you. I don't care how beat up you are. I still believe in you. I don't care how wounded you are. I still love you. I still believe in you. You're gonna make it. My brother is good. Oh Lord. Come here tiny and treat him bad for sure. But when the inn — when the enemy tries to poke his finger at him and say: You're a failure. You're broken. You're wounded. You're hurting. Somebody needs to come along inside and say: My brother's good. He's got a future. He's got an anointing. He's got a purpose. He's got a calling. He's got a future. I don't care about his pain. I care about his potential. I don't care about the failure. I care about his future. Come on, we got to be brothers and sisters. We've got to be brothers and sisters that stare down the hurt and say: I'm not gonna let you die. I'm not gonna let you quit. I'm not gonna let you get discouraged. I'm on your side. I'm your brother. And my brother is good. I wonder — I wonder how much Ichabod, every time somebody walked up to him and said: No glory — I wonder if he didn't look around: One of my brothers here. Because his brother would walk up and say: Don't you say that about him. My brother is good. Dare I go there? His brother didn't go out on Facebook and say: Oh, No Glory. His brother didn't go out on social media and trash him. His brother didn't whisper about him behind the back of the table at Denny's after church. His brother just went up and put her arm around his shoulder, and said: I don't care what everybody else says about you. I'm saying I'm still on your side. We're going to get through this together. I'm not going to abandon you. I'm not going to leave you. We're going to make it. I believe in you. Let me let me finish off. Let's bc one minute. I'll finish right here, I promise. I'm so far off my notes, is terrifying. My family and I, some years ago, spent Christmas in the Bay Area, in San Francisco, probably 20 years ago. We drove across the Golden Gate Bridge, up Sausalito, and up to Muir Woods, which is one of the redwood groves in California. Now, if you've never seen the redwoods, no picture does them justice. If you've never been there, no National Geographic DVD, or no YouTube clip, just doesn't work. They're amazing. Now, I grew up in the Midwest. I'm from southern Illinois. And I happen to know, because I grew up there, and my mind is cluttered with little factoids like this, that the average tree in this part of the country, in the Midwest, like this — the oaks, the elms, the maples, all that kind of stuff — the roots of those trees, on average, go down as far as the tree is tall. If you've got a 30 foot maple in your yard, on average — the soil can affect this — but on average, the roots of that maple will go down 30 feet. If you had an old mature 75 foot oak, those roots probably go down about 75 feet, on average. There is as much wood beneath the ground as there is above the ground. So I'm standing out here in these redwoods that are 300 feet tall. I'm going: Wow. We're walking up through the forest, these paths. And I came on a sign that the forestry, or the conservation department — or I don't even know why, but all of our outdoor parks in the — are controlled in the federal government by the — the outdoor parks are controlled by the Department of the Interior. Welcome to government brilliance. So I don't know who put that sign out. But the sign said: The roots of the average redwood go down three feet. Now, that's not possible. I mean, I just look goofy. I studied Newtonian physics in college. There is no way the wind can blow on the limbs of a tree 300 feet tall — and you've got a 300 foot lever, and the fulcrum is at the ground — there is no way, when those coastal winds start blowing, that three-foot roots can hold that tree up. It will fall over. That is a misprint. That's a typo. Decimal error. They meant to put 300. They put three. Somebody needs to alert them. I really wish I were kidding about what happened next. This is what my wife lives with. I went looking for a park ranger. I did. To explain to them they had a typo in their sign. And I — I went around. I saw, you know, one of the rangers down there feeding Yogi and Boo Boo, or whatever he was doing down there. And I ran down there to him. I said: Hey, sir. Excuse me. I hate to be the one point this out, but I know you want to be accurate. I said: Up around this corner, and down that thing, you had to sign. A person that's kind of funny. I know it's just accident. But signs couldn't be true. Sign says that the roots of that tree — all these trees — that they only go down three feet. I thought you might want to fix that sign. He said: They do go down three feet. I said: That's not possible. He said: Did you read the rest of the sign? There was more. Would you two guys come help me here on the front? Two of you. I don't care, any two. Just come here real quick. Stand on either side of me. Face the ground. He said: You got to read the rest of the sign. Because while the roots of the redwood only go down three feet, they go out up to a mile. And in that mile, they find the roots of the neighboring redwood. And they find the roots of this redwood. And they tie their roots together. What you don't understand is, the wind never blows on one tree. It blows on the whole forest. And he said: Since it can't blow down the forest, it can't blow down any one member, as long as they hold on to each other. Come on, church: there may be a storm in your neighbor's life. But if we just keep holding on to each other, we're going to make it. My brother is good. My brother is good. My brother is good. I'm not against him. I'm for him. We're in this thing together. We're gonna make it. Watch this: He said there had been trees out in this forest, we were convinced they were dead. They hadn't shown signs of life in years. He said: If it had been up to us, we would have cut them down. But their neighbors would not give up on them. And he said: Sure enough, one spring we went out there, and there's a little green leaf out on the end of a limb. And if you saw them today, you'd never know they were weak. If you saw it today, you can't tell they ever struggled. If you saw them today, you'd never know they were broken. Because their neighbors said: I will hold on to you until your strength comes back. Come on, somebody: when they're struggling, don't kick him to the curb. Hold on to him. When somebody's hurting, hold on to him. When somebody's wounded, hold on to him. Stand with me. I'm done preaching. I gotta quit. But I'm telling you today: there are hurting people among you. Did you hear what I said? Some of the folks that you greeted when you walked in: Praise the Lord. How you doing? Great. They're hurting. They're wounded. They're bruised. And the devils tell them they're not gonna make it. Somebody — somebody needs to come up and say: We got our roots in the same soil, and I'm not going to let go of you. You're going to make it, because I'm going to hold on to you. You're my brother, and I see good in you. I don't just see pain. I see potential. I don't just see your past. I see your future. I believe God's got a calling on your life. I believe God's got a purpose for you. I believe you've got a ministry in this church. I believe God's got souls for you to win. I believe you can have a powerful prayer life. I believe in you. And I will not let you go, simply because you're hurting today. I'm done. I'm going to ask a hard thing right now. I don't know why it is that we think that if we admit we're hurting, it's like we admitted we sinned. No. Many are the afflictions of the the righteous. But I know this: we wear masks. And not just the kind the pandemic produced. We walk into church and paint a smile on our face, thinking somehow that if we're ever honest about our pain, that somebody will think we're less spiritual. When in reality, if I could be honest about my pain, what I would find is a brother that runs up and grabs a hold of me, and says: My name is Ayatub, and this is my brother. See, this is hard right here. My God, I need an A tub to come running up here right now. I need an air tub to come running to this man, right — not, not 70 of you, but a couple. I need an Aotep to come running to somebody that's honest. You know what I need right now? Listen, I'ma ask a hard thing. I need the hurting to come. I need somebody that's hurting to come — emotionally, spiritually, physically, however it is, relationally. I came from a broken home. I was abused as a child. I'm under financial pressure. I'm dealing with heartache. I got a backslidden child. I got a family that's away from God. I'm hurting today. And when they come honestly, I need you to come put an arm around their shoulder, and say: You're my brother. You are my sister. And we're gonna make it. I believe in you. I'm sorry you're hurting, but I won't let you go. You're a survivor. You're a survivor. You're a survivor.