storiesofvalue

Bad timing not only leads us to ask “Why now?” but it stirs up the first question as well.  If our trials merely occur at an inconvenient moment in our lives, we might more easily endure.  But when we experience one jab after another we begin to wonder if God has singled us out, which leads us back to the “Why me?” inquiry.  With the widow we shout, “What do you have against me?”  We can’t imagine what we have done to be punished so. (yesterday’s entry)

I don’t mean to suggest we arrive at this woeful state overnight.  In fact, our first inclination as humans is usually to pursue logical explanations for the overabundance of trials in our lives.  Admittedly, it is often easier to make sense of the suffering of others.  If a friend fails to manage an addiction and as a result loses his marriage, children, career and financial security, we can easily connect the dots.  But while our friend might grieve over his personal choices, he can also feel abandoned and mistreated by the people who love him.  This doesn’t mean he is justified in his assessment.  It merely demonstrates how difficult it is to think rationally when we are in pain.

Ironically, in an effort to logically sequence our trials, we can calculate ourselves right into a spiritual corner.  I have seen stress charts that assign numerical values to various events, such as the loss of a family member, major illness or new career.  These tools can help us come to terms with our feelings and behaviors, but inevitably they lead to the summary point: “This isn’t fair!”

Logic sustains for a moment because it provides a mechanism by which we maintain order in our lives.  Yet, if we conclude the timing of our circumstances is disproportionate, we must also decide if this is an issue of fairness in a world controlled by a powerful God, a characteristic of fate in a world without God, or something in-between.

Have you ever had a season in your life when you thought your trials were disproportionate to the norm?  Did you struggle with issues of “fairness?”

Dear God, help me through the times that don’t seem fair.  In Jesus’ name, Amen.

If we cannot be guaranteed of an answer to the question “Why me?” then perhaps we will be more fortunate with the partner of this demonic duo, “Why now?”  If God, in His wisdom, has chosen not to spare us our trials, will He not make up for it by taking the ebb and flow of our lives, and our need for margins into consideration?  One might postulate so, but then one would be wrong.  God does not appear to be any more protective of life’s timing than He is of those who suffer.

As they say, “the hits just keep on coming.”  Like a flurry of punches in the late rounds of a boxing match, it is easy to feel cursed when we face one troubling experience after another, and each event brings us closer to personal collapse.  In a sense, there is never a good time for a trial, but when challenges are spread out over weeks, months, or years we have an opportunity to process our thoughts and reclaim our balance.  On the other hand, when we encounter pain in rapid-fire succession, we can easily lose all perspective.

The Bible is filled with examples of those who suffered trials upon trials.  I am intrigued by the widow from Zerephath who cared for the prophet Elijah during a drought and famine designed to bring wicked King Ahab to his knees.  When the prophet arrived at her home he asked her to fetch some water and bake him a bread cake.  His timing couldn’t have been worse since she was busy preparing a last meal for her son and herself before surrendering to starvation.  But the widow ultimately responded with great faith and God provided by miraculously replenishing her oil and flour supply on a daily basis.  And about that time the unthinkable happened.  Her son grew ill and died.

We can appreciate the words of the widow to Elijah: “What do you have against me, man of God? Did you come to remind me of my sin and kill my son?” (1 Kings 17:18 NIV)  How sad.  This dear widow had lost her husband along with financial security, faced starvation in the midst of a famine and then watched as her son grew ill and slowly stopped breathing.    Even Elijah struggled as he prayed, “O LORD my God, have you brought tragedy also upon this widow I am staying with, by causing her son to die?” (1 Kings 17:20 NIV)  In this case, God responded by using his prophet to raise the boy from the dead.

I will admit this account is problematic at this point.  If we knew all of our trials were going to end happily, the wait would be less agonizing.  Still, we are able to relate to the widow’s conversation with Elijah.  We sympathize with the guilt she carried through the death of her husband and her growing poverty.  Surely Elijah had been sent as a final death angel to take her son away and finish her off.

Bad timing not only leads us to ask “Why now?” but it stirs up the first question as well.  If our trials merely occurred at an inconvenient moment in our lives, we might more easily endure.  But when we experience one jab after another we begin to wonder if God has singled us out, which leads us back to the “Why me?” inquiry.  With the widow we shout, “What do you have against me?  Why me and why now?”  We can’t imagine what we have done to be punished so.

Do you ever wonder if God is punishing you with the trials that come into your life?  Do you feel your guilt is justified?  Why?  Why not?

Dear God, help me manage my burden of guilt.  In Jesus’ name, Amen.

Honesty and confession puts us in a better position to hear God, but they don’t guarantee an answer to the “Why me?” question.  In truth, we may never have a satisfactory answer, at least in this life.

I have always been troubled by the circumstances surrounding the death of John the Baptist.  John was more than a prophet cloaked in camel’s-hair.  He was the little “surprise” born to Mary’s elderly cousin Elizabeth.  John never wavered in his mission as the forerunner to Jesus, faithfully calling his culture to repentance.  When Jesus appeared he introduced Him to the crowds and humbly stepped aside.

But this was not the end of John’s prophetic work.  It is hard for someone called to proclaim the truth to remain silent.  When King Herod entered into an immoral relationship with his brother’s wife Herodias, John called him out.  Then Herod locked him up.  Perhaps you have heard the sordid details of the fateful party where Herodias’ daughter Salome danced before Herod and he offered her a reward up to half of his kingdom.  Herodias prompted her daughter to ask for John the Baptist’s head on a platter, and the request was promptly carried out.

As evil as these events were, they are not the source of my trouble.  Instead, I have always struggled with the communication between Jesus and His cousin John before his execution.  Depressed by his dark demise, John sent word to Jesus asking Him to confirm whether or not He really was the Messiah.  It is dangerous to read between the lines here, but I have always wondered if John was battling feelings of abandonment.  After all, if Jesus really was the Messiah, would He allow His own cousin to rot away in prison?  Was it possible John had wasted his entire life on a false claim?

Jesus told John’s messengers to return with this proclamation: “Go back and report to John what you have seen and heard: The blind receive sight, the lame walk, those who have leprosy are cured, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the good news is preached to the poor.  Blessed is the man who does not fall away on account of me.” (Luke 7:22-23 NIV)

I have no doubt these words were encouraging to John, but they still didn’t resolve the issue of his circumstances.  Couldn’t someone who was giving people back their sight, curing leprosy and raising the dead find the time to spring His poor cousin from prison?  After all, he wasn’t there for his work in proclaiming the kingdom, but rather because he chose to speak out against a wrong.  Would it have hurt God’s plan of redemption if He had rescued a deserving servant like John?

I am aware my thoughts are theoretical since we aren’t told what John’s motivation was for his inquiry.  Maybe He was ready to die as a prophet, but just needed to be reassured he had heard God correctly.  But it is just as possible he died still confused as to why he had been allowed to suffer after doing everything he had been asked to do.

This brings me to a difficult position, but one I have grown more comfortable with as the years have passed.  Sometimes, it is enough to know God cares for us and is aware of our circumstances.  Not only has He not promised to protect us from all harm, but He has also never said He would provide full insight into His providential plans.  Does this reality frustrate me?  Of course it does.  I want to know “why?”   I would also like to be able to answer the same question for others.  But I have come to a place where I am more focused on God’s abiding peace in the midst of things I do not understand than I am the logic behind them.

This is where we return to our Pencil Faith metaphor.  We have said the shattering of the certainties that make up the greater portion of our faith (80% in my case) is merely a delusion Satan creates to defeat us.  In time we recognize we still have a foundation of certainty, but it comes to reflect a more mature awareness of God’s grace and providence as they intersect the complexity of our human experience.  In brief terms God’s “divine option” is greater than our finite comprehension, and as our trust in His wisdom grows, the temporary needs in this life begin to fade in light of His eternal glory.  I am not suggesting this is an easy process of discovery, but one that is inevitable in our walk with the Father.

Has your understanding of the options God has at his disposal grown over the years?  Has this helped you grow in faith?

Dear God, help me comprehend the incomprehensible nature of your providence.  In Jesus’ name, Amen.

Once we have leveled with God, our hearts are capable of confession.  Does the thought of confessing our faults to a God we believe to be partially responsible for our pain bother you?  Then we have all the more reason to come before Him on bended knee.

In a sense, our decision to share our anger with God is confession, but we must move past mere emotion to personal cause.  It is important to tell God exactly why we have been unable to face Him, and if necessary repent of our insolence.  Are there others we blame for our suffering whom we have murdered a hundred times over in our hearts?  And what of our own failures, however big or small, that have contributed to our circumstances?

Confession is a means of clearing the air with God.  Even if we have not overtly sinned, the fact we have wasted one moment wallowing in human pride with God waiting for us to call on His name, is reason enough for serious inventory.  We come in full assurance and cry out with David who sang, “The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise.” (Psalm 51:17 NIV)

What do you need to tell God?  Why wait another day?

Dear God, hear my broken heart.  In Jesus’ name, Amen.

A first healthy step in coming to peace with God’s behavior toward us is to be honest about our feelings.  If we were crying out as victims of a crime and a policeman walked by without stopping to help, we would surely feel abandoned, but we would also boil with anger.  If we had a business and a customer refused to pay us for our services, we might pursue them in a court of law, but we would certainly be angry.

It is true, anger against God is a dangerous proposition.  Whether it is always a sin is one of those theological questions people have debated for centuries.  Ephesians 4:26 tells us anger is an opportunity for sin, but is it possible to be angry with God under any circumstances without sinning?  Personally, I have not resolved this issue, yet, I am confident of two things: anger against God is not the unpardonable sin, and it is easier to deal with our disappointments with God when we tell Him what He already knows.

If we are angry with God, for whatever reason, we should admit it.  If He hasn’t already struck us dead for thinking something, He probably won’t do so for speaking our mind.

Please don’t misunderstand.  I am not suggesting it is wise to curse God, or forget we are in the presence of the Almighty.  Of Him, Moses once wrote, “Who knows the power of your anger?  For your wrath is as great as the fear that is due you.” (Psalm  90:11 NIV)  Should one be led to think there is cathartic power in unleashing a barrage of disrespectful cries in God’s direction, he might want to reconsider.  God has His own form of catharsis against which no one can stand.

On the other hand, it is possible to be paralyzed by our indignation because we don’t know where to unload it without condemnation.  In my experience, it often takes people who are hurting a while before they have the courage or the will to face God with their feelings.  Personally, I believe He understands this process, and grieves with them as they struggle through the darkest of nights.  After all, the Father is patient and loving as well as wrathful, and he knows the true intentions of our hearts, even if our demeanor toward Him is temporarily cold and distant.

For all of these reasons, we should pour our hearts out before the One who loves us in spite of ourselves.  If we have sinned in our anger, then confession will release the waters from the dam that has held back our longing to rush into the arms of our gracious God.

How would you define your feelings toward God?  Have you been honest with Him about the things He already knows?

Dear God, please be patient with me.  It’s so very hard.  In Jesus’ name, Amen.

Intense personal suffering and catastrophic loss will test our faith, and shake our confidence in God’s justice.  While there is a point at which we have to guard against “feeling sorry for ourselves”, it is also dangerous to deny the battle raging in our soul.  Certainly God’s servant Job anguished over the death of his children (Job 1:20), but when he was afflicted with insidious lesions on his own body he cried, “What I feared has come upon me; what I dreaded has happened to me.” (Job 3:25 NIV) 

We don’t have to be the ones suffering to pose the question, “Why me?”  We also contend with God when a loved one is seriously hurt or diagnosed with a terminal disease.  And while we feel guilty when we complain, even as the people we care about come to a place of peace in their circumstances, our fears and doubts are no less real.  Should we lose a spouse or a child to the last enemy of death, we are left to pick up the pieces of our shattered hearts and somehow make sense of God’s wisdom.

My conversations with others on this topic seem to always end with one or both of the following: God has failed us, we have failed God, or we have failed each other.  Perhaps our cultural bent toward fairness is what leads us to spread the blame around.  We have not been without fault, but then, neither has God. 

Our frustrations are rarely, if ever expressed in these terms.  Few of us would be so bold as to accuse God of wrongdoing.  We are more comfortable asking Him why He is sometimes absent or so difficult to understand.  In more courageous moments we might venture to suggest God has abandoned us or broken a promise or two.

But the truth is, when our world crashes in around us, we must find a reason.  The notion we might be entirely at fault is too unbearable, and our suspicion God is responsible causes us to look away, lest we find ourselves speechless in His presence.

Have you ever admitted you were angry at God?  Do you believe it is a sin to do so? 

Dear God, help me in my quest for “Why?”  In Jesus’ name, Amen.  

We will try to make sense of these inquiries later, but for now it is only right for me to state my personal position on the question of fairness.  I suspect you already know: the test is “not” fair. 

This claim goes beyond the instruction of our parents who told us, “Life isn’t fair.”  No, it isn’t.   But it is important to know this is not the result of a universe out of control, or a God who doesn’t care.  Rather, it is a result God’s purposeful design.

Does this bother you?  Are you upset by the suggestion God could make things better if He wanted to, but doesn’t?  Before you leave me, I need to point out the best two alternatives are that God can’t help us, or that He doesn’t exist at all. 

I should return to my classroom reference before closing out this thought, lest you think my conclusion here gives us the right to be unjust toward others.  I am convinced it is our moral duty to provide a quality education for every child in our society, and to create a level opportunity for every generation to pursue its dreams.  But I do not assume for a moment things will turn out perfectly.  There will be budget restraints and failed policies among educators.  Children will come to the classroom with different abilities, and some will be seriously impaired by poor training at home or difficult circumstances over which they have no control.  And while I have the greatest respect for teachers, experience has shown me some are more talented than others, and even the most gifted face personal struggles that can make them ineffective for a season. 

People of all ages and in all walks of life speak of working with the “hand they are dealt.”  While I don’t subscribe to this cold description of the human condition, it is an accurate expression of our response, and admission of inequality. 

We must move on, and attempt to produce some clarity and direction.  Before we do, however, I must challenge you to set aside any notion that anyone’s journey with the Lord will be fair.  If we allow ourselves to get stuck on this false precept, we may never find our way back to the truths that have the power to save us.   

More than once I have sat in my office, struggling with a grieving family member seeking the answer to these two simple inquiries (“Why me and why now?”).  I am always surprised to discover the grace with which most people deal with the reality of disease, disaster and death.  It isn’t these unwelcome facts of life that bother them, but rather their disproportionate and untimely visit.

If the test is fair, then we should suffer equally and be given the same amount of time as others before trouble begins.  And if God is in charge, then He should surely administrate the test as expected, so no one has an advantage over another.

Those who grapple with this assumption in their walk with the Lord make some valid points in their appeal for justice.  In the case of proportion, Jesus once said His Father causes the sun to shine and the rain to fall on the just and the unjust (Matthew 5:45).  And the clear Biblical leaning, should there be inequality, is in favor of the just.  Did the Psalmist David not write, “He will never let the righteous fall”? (Psalm 55:22).  As far as timing, at least when it comes to death, Moses once claimed we are given seventy years of life, and maybe eighty if we are especially strong (Psalm 90:10).

The collective appeal of hundreds of conversations I have had with hurting people goes something like this: “If God is a good, then how can He allow faithful servants to suffer, and why doesn’t He reward all of them with a reasonably long life?”  This is the inquiry of the ages.

Some well-intentioned teachers have answered this cry by pushing back on the sufferer.  They claim God is certainly not unfair, but rather constricted by the depth of our walk.   If our faith were stronger, He would keep His promise to favor us over evildoers and preserve us for the said “three score and ten”, and perhaps twenty if we are fortunate.  After all, the apostle Paul did say, “in all things God works for the good of those who love Him” (Romans 8:28).

No wonder those who pour out their hearts to me are incensed with anger, yet riddled with guilt.  Whose fault is it the test results have been skewed?  Has God abandoned us, or have we unknowingly abandoned God?  And what must we do to make things right?  It is possible to throw out our score and take the test again at a better time?

How do you explain the apparent lack of fairness in the tests we face in life?  Is it just for God to treat evildoers better than the righteous? 

Dear God, comfort me when life seems unfair.  In Jesus’ name, Amen.

In recent years standardized public school tests have been the subject of much debate.  The focus has been on disparities in the quality of school systems and the lack of opportunities some students have to prepare for tests due to socio-economic hardships.

I remember sitting in a classroom with a test sheet and my two #2 pencils, wondering why some other students always seemed to score better.  Surely God had given them better minds.  At times, I even suspected a conspiracy whereby certain students were given inside information from school administrators because they had been secretly chosen to succeed.

Such are the fantasies of a young boy who, as his teachers used to write on his report card, “doesn’t live up to his potential.”  But could it be there was some truth, however shallow, to support my perceptions?

Alright, I concede there was probably not a conspiracy.  I say “probably” because there is always a possibility secret files might be found someday vindicating my unfortunate performance.

Yet, if pressed, most of us would admit we are frequently troubled by two subjects: The unfortunate circumstances God permits in our lives, and His timing.  We might phrase these topics in the form of two present questions, “Why me and why now?”

Have you ever felt as though the circumstances you were facing in life were unfair?  Do you believe God has promised our lives will be fair? 

Dear God, give me the courage to pursue the question of fairness in my life.  In Jesus’ name, Amen.

When I counsel with people suffering through a difficult trial, I find their confusion over matters of faith often produces their greatest anxiety.  I know it sounds strange, but people can accept physical pain and personal loss as a part of the human experience, even as they agonize over their expectations of God.  And when they have questions of God that can’t be quickly answered they panic, just as I panicked on Glacier Lake and Peter panicked as he fled the courtyard.

This is why my #2 Pencil Faith illustration became a part of my faith conversation in the first place.  While I am all too aware our relationship with God cannot be confined to a neatly framed metaphor, the notion that trials warp our perspective on spiritual reality seems to calm people’s nerves.  If nothing else, it gives them a trace of control by providing a template for managing their thoughts and emotions.

I sense this is one of the reasons Jesus spoke through parables and teachable moments.  The pictures and experiences His followers committed to memory helped them organize the truths He was sharing.  For example, Jesus said those of “little faith” should consider the grass of the field which God uses to clothe the ground, even though it is eventually thrown into the fire.  If He cares this way about temporary ground cover won’t He care even more for us?  (Matthew 6:30).  When the disciples were perishing in a storm on the sea Jesus rebuked them for their “little faith”, then calmed the waves to make His point (Matthew 8:26).  After Peter’s famous walk on water Jesus questioned His impulsive friend as he stood wringing wet in the boat, “You of little faith.  Why did you doubt?”  (Matthew 14:31).  In a discussion with His disciples about their need for bread Jesus reminded them of His miraculous feeding of the five thousand and confronted them collectively for their “little faith” (Matthew 16:8).  And Jesus used the example of a growing mustard seed as a contrast to those of “little faith” (Matthew 17:20).

Was Jesus accusing His disciples of having no faith?  Absolutely not!  But their faith was at times too small.  They had not learned the complexities of God’s providence and the scope of His divine option.  Therefore, their fears and doubts pushed into the certainties of their faith on a regular basis.  The sliding pencil in their #2 Pencil Faith was tossing about like a toy boat in a hurricane.  They were unstable in their faith, but not without.

No, a test of faith is not an absence of faith.  Instead, it is an opportunity to grow in our faith, if we are aware of the ways Satan may use our circumstances to destroy us and how God might use them to create perseverance.  For this reason, instead of falling into despair when we face a fresh onslaught of spiritual quandaries, we should rejoice.  James, the brother of Jesus has told us, “Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance.” (James 1:2-3 NIV)

You may not be at the point yet where you are ready to rejoice in the testing of your faith, but maybe you can take comfort in knowing the things you are feeling are normal.  You should also know you are not that far from shore.  So take a deep breath and row slow.

Are you more anxious about your circumstances or how you feel about your relationship with God in the midst of your circumstances?  What do you do when your faith seems small?

Dear God, enlarge my faith.  In Jesus’ name, Amen.