On April 10th of this year, millions of viewers around the world sat glued to screens, watching the final minutes of Artemis II’s 10-day lunar test flight. Four astronauts, crammed into a tiny capsule, travelled 406,771 kilometres from earth to test a range of systems and prepare the way for future moon exploration. From deep space they gazed at the lustrous blue marble we call home, and they marvelled at the sight of an in-space solar eclipse. En route there were some technical challenges, but by far the most precarious aspect of the mission was the fiery re-entry into Earth’s atmosphere.
Re-entry followed a careful sequence, beginning with the separation of the crew module from the service module. An 18-second raise burn positioned Orion at a pre-calculated entry angle, after which its heat shield was subjected to temperatures of more than 2,200 degrees Celsius. Following concerns over the shield’s performance during the 2022 unmanned mission of Artemis I, engineers had for several years been analyzing and making modifications to the spacecraft’s shield and trajectory. Would the shield withstand the heat, or would the mission come to a tragic end, as did the space shuttle Columbia in 2003?
Orion raced toward Earth at 35 times the speed of sound. Moments later, as the spacecraft made contact with the upper atmosphere, a white-hot sheath of plasma wrapped itself around the capsule, causing a 6-minute communications blackout with Mission Control.
Back in the flight control room of NASA’s Johnson Space Center in Houston, cheers erupted when Commander Reid Wiseman’s voice broke the tense silence: “Houston, Integrity here. We hear you loud and clear.” The most dangerous phase was over and the astronauts would soon be home.
Preparation for the Dangerous Journey
In an exclusive interview with the CBC’s Ian Hanomansing, Canadian astronaut Jeremy Hansen described his extensive training for the mission’s hazards. It included time in an E.R. unit (learning how to treat medical emergencies), days-long extreme caving, and underwater training in a tiny “space station” on the ocean floor—all in an effort to simulate life in an unfamiliar, hostile environment. The very real dangers of the mission necessitated the most rigorous preparation.
At some point in their lives, every Christ-follower will journey through their own fiery trial; many will pass through more than one. Believers, particularly new ones, must be made aware of this and must, like the astronauts, be ready and equipped for that day when life goes sideways.
Fiery trials present in many forms: infidelity, the sudden death of a loved one, financial setbacks, and life-altering diagnoses, to name only a few. Under this pressure, the faith foundations of too many believers begin to crack and split. I am God’s child, standing on his promises—how can this be happening?
But Peter, writing to Christians distraught over mounting persecution, exhorts them, and us. “Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery trial when it comes upon you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you” (1 Pet. 4:12). Dear friends, don’t be surprised. This is normal! Peter reframes what is happening—they are sharing in the sufferings of Christ—and he reminds them of the great joy that will one day be theirs (1 Pet. 4:13). But how can they possibly endure their present suffering? Peter gives two keys: “Therefore let those who suffer according to God’s will entrust their souls to a faithful Creator while doing good” (1 Pet. 4:19).
Dear pastor, elder, youth worker, and Bible study leader: Are you, like Peter, preparing those you lead for seasons of testing? Are you helping them to view trials through a biblical lens? Do they even know these will come? Teaching such as this may feel uncomfortable, but surely we do those entrusted to our care a disservice if we do not warn them of what lies ahead, nor help them to see how God uses trials to refine and shape us more into the image of Jesus.
If ever they are to move on from the initial shock and disillusionment, we must open Bibles together and examine with them passages such as Romans 5:1-5, Philippians 3:7-11, James 1:2-5, and 1 Peter 1:3-9. And we must do this before the day of testing. Keep silent about this important aspect of the believer’s journey, and witness how, when the trial comes, they may panic and make all the wrong manoeuvres, to the ruin of their souls.
We must teach believers young and old to pray the Psalms, particularly the Psalms of lament. In praying the Psalms we gather up our fear, sorrow, confusion, and pain, bring them to God’s throne of grace, and commit ourselves to his mercy. “Hear my cry, O God, listen to my prayer; from the end of the earth I call to you when my heart is faint. Lead me to the rock that is higher than I” (Ps. 61:1-2). As we remind ourselves of God’s faithfulness, we experience again his protection from the darkness that is pressing in. “For you have been my refuge, a strong tower against the foe” (Ps. 61:3).
When this is the posture of our hearts, fiery trials won’t catch us unaware. We will experience God’s gracious preservation through the flames (Isa. 43:1-2). And like the three Hebrew youths, we will sense his presence with us, the fourth Man in the fire, sustaining us in that blazing furnace (Dan. 3:21-28).
As with the Artemis II crew, advance notice and preparation for a fiery trial are critical to the believer’s resilience, but there is one additional factor that is necessary for safe passage: the support of a larger team.
My Brother’s Keeper
The success of the Artemis II mission and the safe return of the Orion capsule to earth cannot be solely attributed to the work of four astronauts. In press conferences since their return, they have been quick to point that out. The mission was the culmination of the efforts of a host of scientists, engineers, technicians, specialists, and flight controllers. As NASA associate administrator Amit Kshatriya commented concerning the capsule’s re-entry into Earth’s atmosphere, “And their team hit it. That is not luck; that is 1,000 people doing their job.”
So also with us. As pilgrims here, we need a support network. But since the dawn of history, we have been loath to take responsibility for one another’s welfare. “Am I my brother’s keeper?” a bitter Cain objected to God (Gen. 4:9). And in our fallenness, this disinclination continues to be our default setting.
But the Lord Jesus, in his earthly ministry, speaks to our reluctance with teaching that amounts to a resounding “Yes—you are your brother’s keeper!” When asked by a teacher of the law, “Who is my neighbour?” Jesus told the story of a despised outsider who moved with mercy toward a man languishing from the blows of a violent assault. And his command still echoes in our ears: “Go and do likewise” (Luke 10:25-37).
The apostle Paul also urges compassionate engagement, particularly among God’s people. He explains to believers in Galatia that obedience to Jesus means carrying each other’s burdens (Gal. 6:2). He exhorts the church in Philippi to “Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others” (Phil. 2:4), and he commends to them his mentee Timothy: “I have no one like him, who will genuinely care for your interests” (Phil. 2:20).
To Christians in Rome Paul stresses the importance of empathy: “Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep” (Rom. 12:15). And to help the church in Corinth grasp the nature of the shared life God intends, Paul highlights the interdependence of the various members of the human body. “God has so composed the body . . . that the members may have the same care for one another. If one member suffers, all suffer together; if one member is honored, all rejoice together” (1 Cor. 12:24-26).
So, dear friend in Christ, look around you. Who is your neighbour? Who is the brother or sister who has been blindsided by some tragic misfortune, or has simply been worn down by stressors that will not relent? Who is really struggling? Look closely. Can you see them?
Oh, but we want to give them space, you know, respect their privacy. Fair enough. Boundaries matter, and by all means we must exercise sensitivity in the way we approach those who are hurting. But rather than space and privacy, might your brother or sister, in their sorrow and distress, yearn for a compassionate friend to come alongside, even for an hour, and journey with them? Might their soul be parched for a visit, a hot meal, a word of encouragement, a timely prayer, a few hours of respite—in short, a cup of cold water in Jesus’s name?
The temptation to claim “We knew nothing about this!” (Prov. 24:11-12), to look the other way and “pass by on the other side,” as did the priest and the Levite in Jesus’ story—this temptation is strong. We have a visitation team—isn’t this their job? How about the pastor?!
If we neglect our responsibility to care for one another, we are missing an opportunity to shine gospel light in an increasingly atomized, self-serving culture. And we are actively disobeying Jesus:
“A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another. By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another” (John 13:34-35).
Mutual care may well be in the DNA of small churches—congregants know one another (sometimes better than they might wish!). But members of mid-sized and large churches also can know and show up for each other. Small groups, women’s Bible studies, various ministry teams—all of these lend themselves to “one another” care and ministry. There is no reason for anyone to slip through the cracks. Each one of us can and must obey the scriptural injunction to love our neighbour just as we love ourselves.
Martin Luther understood well the dangers of the Christian journey when he penned the hymn “A Mighty Fortress” some 500 years ago: “And though this world with devils filled should threaten to undo us . . .” Indeed, satanic powers scheme to exploit the very trials that are meant to purify us. They seek to waylay, discourage, and ultimately undermine faith in God’s goodness and providence, shipwrecking our souls.
The stakes are high. If we would pass successfully through the fiery trial—if we would emerge on the other side with deeper love and wisdom and fruitfulness and joy—then we must show up for one another. Embodied care and support can mean the difference between spiritual resilience and disastrous ruin.
