Keith Battle - A House of Pain - Part 1

I’ve given this message, or this series, whatever it becomes, the subject, «A House of Pain.» One of the things that I love about being a preacher or teacher is that our resource data, our book, our text, is written about people who lived so long ago that they cannot be offended by what I have to say about them. I can talk about Jabez today and not have to worry about him meeting me out in the lobby and saying, «I need you to stop putting my business out in public.» I can talk about his mother; you can’t talk about many people’s mothers. I can talk about his mother today and not have to worry about getting an angry email calling for a family meeting saying, «Why are you talking about us on your platform?» The beauty of being able to talk about people in Scripture is that it sort of camouflages our story from theirs. I can talk about them as if I’m not talking about us, so that we can continue to swim and waddle around in the river called denial. But the truth is, it wasn’t just Jabez who lived in a house of pain; we all have lived in a house of pain. In Genesis chapter 37, the Bible says Joseph grew up in a house where his brothers hated him. I won’t even take the time to tell you what they did to him, the things they took him through, and the way they displayed their hatred for him, but he grew up in a house of pain. In Genesis chapter 25, the Bible says Esau grew up in a house where his own mother loved his twin brother more than him—so much so that she plotted with his twin brother Jacob to take his birthright from him and supplant him of his rights as the firstborn child. He lived in a house of pain. It was Ruth and Naomi and Orpah who lived in a limbo house in a place called Moab, where all three of them were widowed and left without children or grandchildren in their house of pain. In 1 Samuel chapter 4, there was a woman married to a man named Phineas, who was the son of Eli the priest. While this woman was giving birth to her child, she found out during that process that her husband had died. Phineas had died, and in addition to Phineas dying, her father-in-law, Eli the priest of Israel, had died. In addition to the deaths of her father-in-law and her husband, she also discovered that the Ark of the Covenant had been taken from Israel. During that moment of grief and sorrow, while she was giving birth to her son, as the midwives tried to encourage her and said, «It’s going to be all right; you had a son,» she ignored all of their consolation and named the boy Ichabod, meaning «the glory has departed from Israel,» from her house of pain. And the truth is, we all have a house of pain. In fact, don’t put it in the chat and don’t say anything out loud. What is your pain in your house? If you can relate that you know what it’s like to have pain, just put a thumbs up or tell me, «I know what you’re talking about,» just give me something to let me know that you can relate to what I’m talking about, because we all have it. The difference between us is that we don’t have our pain story recorded in a book that has sold 5 billion copies. This book has been on almost every coffee table on every shelf. I don’t know why people put it in the back window of their car; I don’t know why they do that, but this book is all over the place. We have the privilege of having our pain undisclosed, but even though it’s not published doesn’t mean it isn’t real. We all have lived in a house of pain. Maybe your house of pain was marital pain. Trust me, if you’ve been married long enough, you’re going to have marital pain. I don’t want you to feel excluded or singled out. It won’t be long after they throw that rice at the ceremony, after they’ve toasted at the reception, after the cake has been cut, and after all the guests have gone home. There you are in a reality that’s far different from your dream, and there you sit wondering, «What have I done, and what was I thinking?» In your house of pain, maybe your house of pain is medical. It’s been your lot to have to go to hospital wards you had never visited before. You had never even heard of that ward; you certainly never visited that place, and now it is a place where you go regularly to get tested. Now you deal with the anxiety: Is it back? What stage is it in? Is it progressive? Has it metastasized? Is this curable? What kind of medication must they put me on? Am I going to have to do radiation? Am I going to do chemo? I might have to have something removed; I have to take something out to save the rest of me. Whether it is you or someone you love, it has been your life that your house of pain has been medical. We all have a house of pain. Maybe for somebody else, your house of pain is financial pain. It doesn’t make you a bad person because you tried everything. You tried budgeting, you tried saving, you tried tithing. You tried tithing for about eight weeks; you did it for…