And you know these people, too. You've met them. Hell, you ARE them:
Maybe it's child abuse.
Maybe it's rape.
Maybe it's infertility.
Maybe it's a natural disaster.
Maybe it's a failed adoption.
Maybe it's a drug addiction.
Maybe it's a car accident that kills your child.
Maybe it's cancer that kills your wife.
Maybe it's infidelity that kills your spirit.
And it's tough, isn't it? When you grow up in a cute little Baptist church, and you kissed dating goodbye, and you saved your pennies for the missionaries on the bulletin board, and wielded your purity ring like a shiny trophy straight from the Lord Jesus Christ directly to your sanctified loins. You have this weird works-based faith, this unspoken rhetoric of "You scratch my back, I'll scratch Yours", this whole twisted idea of repaying God; "You show up for me, I promise I won't go past 2nd base until I am wedded in holy, God-ordained matrimony. And maybe I'll do a puppet show for some orphans in Haiti." God is like your personal life plastic surgeon-- shaving off the parts you don't like and highlighting the parts that you do.
But then your spouse cheats. Your partner dies. Your child is broken by sexual abuse. The baby that you have loved and planned for and was supposed to be yours, is gone. And all of a sudden, it's like the big JC doesn't seem to be holding up His end of the bargain. What happened to our DEAL here, God?!
That's where I am at right now, if I am really honest with you. I see so much brokenness, so much hurt, so much wrongdoing.
Of course I fall back on what I have always been taught: Jesus loves me this I know.
But Jesus...I sorta feel like you're being an asshole right now.
Now hear me- the holiness of God is legit. Scripture admonishes us to fear His name. So I understand why some of you might think I am being too glib here, too casual with the name of the Lord. You're probably right.
But here's the conclusion I have drawn: I think Jesus can take our questions. I think He can take our doubts and our anger and our fear and our accusations and our confusion and our lack of of faith. He's not threatened by our humanity. Our intellect was designed BY HIM, and He is not afraid of it.
I think he sees my rage at this injustice, and I think He gets it. He is far more broken by child abuse and rape and infertility and natural disasters and failed adoptions and drug addiction and car accidents and cancer and infidelity than I am. He weeps for these things. I truly believe He does.
Someone skilled in hermeneutics could argue the theology of this far more clearly and effectively than I ever could. The world is fallen--but it wasn't one single, solitary little stumble that required a band aid and some kisses. The fall is active. The fall is still falling.
And that really, super sucks.
Somewhere along the line, I adopted this precious Western view of the Gospel. Oh, how I love the parts about joy and peace and the ever-present help of God! But I forget that He is not just an ever-present help; He is an ever-present help in trouble. I forget that contrary to what my pretty ideologies attest, Jesus promised that there would be suffering. He promised that we would be HATED because of Him. You'll understand why I would be shocked and offended by this, but it would seem that the purpose of Jesus saving me isn't only to make me beautiful, rich, and comfortable.
The purpose of Jesus saving me is that He would be glorified. And sometimes that glory shines brightest in the fire.
Remember the story from Sunday School about Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego? They refused to bow down to Nebuchadnezzar's idols, even after the threat of death. So Nebuchadnezzar infamously throws them into a fiery furnace, to be burned alive. (The Bible- not all love and rainbows, folks.) Remember what they said? "Our God will save us from this fire, but even if He does not, we will never bow to your idol."
EVEN IF HE DOES NOT.
This is where I have landed for now. I see all this devastation, the cracks and holes in the people I love, the pain in my own life. And oh, God! I wish You'd save us from this. I wish You would intervene. I wish You would send Your angels and make things right and fix this injustice and pull us out of this fire. I know You could.
But even if You do not.
We have seen the affliction.
We have walked in darkness rather than light.
We have been besieged and surrounded with bitterness and hardship.
We have dwelled in darkness.
We have been weighed down with chains.
Our paths have been crooked and barred with stone.
Our hearts have been pierced.
Our soul is downcast within us.
"Yet this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope: Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed, for His compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is Y
I'm Yours, God. I believe that You are good. Even if You do not.
May we suffer well, and may our heartache ever drive us into Your arms, and never away from them.
And sorry about that time I called You an asshole. I'm still trying to figure this all out.