How can I find the answers?

Houses were shredded by a tornado ripping through Windsor, Colorado last week. A 12-year-old boy is sweating to re-learn to walk after a throat-gripping gun accident at Christmas. A godly, missional woman is fighting cancer.

And we want to cry out, “Why, God?”

We know from Deuteronomy that sin causes suffering. Is the opposite true? Does all suffering come from sin?

That’s the question Job’s friends threw to heaven. Their conclusion? Of course. They badgered Job to admit his sin. But Job, from the first chapter of the book, was described as righteous. Job’s claim, as he sat on a pile of dust scratching his painful boils, was that he deserved none of this.

He shouted: “Why, God?”

When God’s answer finally comes to Job, it silences complaints. God, in describing all the animals of creation, reminds Job that no one understands why God formed the heavens or created an ostrich. Our minds are finite and limited. We cannot understand infinite deity.

God tells Job, as he tells us, that there are mysteries beyond our abilities to understand.

We are people, not deity, and our need is not to understand but to trust.

God challenged Job: "Do you still want to argue with the Almighty? You are God's critic, but do you have the answers?" (Job 40:2)

Job was humbled. His knowledge was dew in the sun. "I am nothing—how could I ever find the answers? I will put my hand over my mouth in silence. I have said too much already. I have nothing more to say." (Job 40:4-5)

The answers to tornadoes and injury and cancer don’t come through the “why’s.” We can’t know. But we can trust the One who does.

(Painting from The Genesis Project, used by permission.)

The always of joy

Her eyes sparked with anger and we were all too young and wide-eyed to have a response. “God can’t expect us to be joyful all the time. That’s not possible. Do you think a girl who has been raped and beaten is joyful? NO! This can’t be true.”

We were studying Philippians, and had zeroed in on the fourth verse of chapter 4: Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Having no answer for her, we slunk home and wondered just what Paul meant, anyway.

Today, I might point her to James. He talked about joy, too, and he coupled it to difficulties: Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds. (James 1:2)

Why? To develop perseverance. To develop character. To become mature and complete. (See James 1:3-4)

God tests us but he never tempts us. James assures us of that a few verses later (1:13). On the front side, an event can look like either a test or temptation. But God always uses tests to make us better. Temptation comes to tear us down, to pull us into destruction. Our response will either draw us closer to God, or we will push him away.

My goal in following Jesus is to look more and more like him, to become more molded to his character. Any test that helps me grow closer to him and toward maturity is a good thing.

God births maturity in us, often through tests. The pain of childbirth evaporates with that first newborn cry. I can welcome a test, knowing what will emerge at the end: maturity.

Joy is not a happy-happy lack of difficulty. Joy is the awareness of God’s grace maturing me in the midst of difficulties. It is the resting in his presence, knowing his hand is molding me and sculpting me like soft clay. I am always changed by tests. Rejoice always that God intends it for my good.

Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.

Heb 12:2

Keeping what they could not lose

The days held the anticipation of spring, with new fragrance and life at every turn. The sisters both looked forward to weddings within a year, easily financed by their well-placed father. To top it off, the sisters shared their new-found faith with their fiancés. The four often attended worship services together, joyfully singing and praying to their Savior.

The fly in the ointment was the year, for the sisters had the misfortune to be born into third century Rome. Their father was an important gentleman in Rome under the emperor Valerian, who reigned during an unsettled time for the empire. Whatever his motivation, Valerian massacred Christians.

Refina and Secunda, our beautiful and accomplished sisters, were engaged to Armentarius and Verinus. The two men renounced their new faith when faced with financial loss, and encouraged their fiancees’ to do the same.

This was not the first time that Rome had gone after Christians, although there had been no problems for 10 years or so. Refina and Secunda refused to deny their Savior. Disappointed with this stubbornness, the young men then reversed their bad situation. They turned in their betrothed.

Refina and Secunda were arrested and killed. No trial, no probation.

These women shed an idyllic life – the dream of many – for a brutal death. Not only were they forced to make a difficult stand for their faith, but they were betrayed by the young men they loved and trusted.

I wonder what their neighbors thought. Or the boy at the market? The soldier who arrested them? Some today want to portray Christianity as a religion of blessings and happiness: pray, open your Bible, and you’ll reap the harvest of good fortune and contentment. What if it isn't?

Conviction is convincing.

Jim Elliot said it well: “He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain that which he cannot lose.”

The author of Hebrews said it even better:

Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.

Heb 12:2-3

Held

Suffering is always the odd uncle of our faith. We acknowledge Uncle Charlie but don’t want to welcome him in. He’s the unspoken member of our family gatherings, the fear of pain and embarrassment. We often hope he’ll forget to come to our house.

Such is suffering.

Paul spoke of the privilege of suffering. (Phil 1:29) Jesus left the comforts of the Kingdom to slog around the earth in a human body. He knew the pain of a headache, the twangs of hunger, the fatigue of a midnight prayer vigil. He left paradise behind to suffer.

I know people who have suffered unspeakable agonies. Some blame God and hate him. Others cling to God with a refined faith.

Paul makes an unfathomable proclamation later in his letter to Philippi: Rejoice always! I want to add, except during suffering, of course.

But it is in the fire where the gold is refined. It is by pressure that a diamond is formed.

In the suffering, we face our own frailties. There is a ragged transparency in pain.

I found a song this week by Natalie Grant, entitled Held. We rage against the reasons for suffering, but we can turn to the who in suffering. Here’s the chorus:

This is what it means to be held.
How it feels when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive.
This is what it is to be loved.
And to know that the promise was
When everything fell we’d be held.

This hand is bitterness.
We want to taste it, let the hatred numb our sorrow.
The wise hand opens slowly to lilies of the valley and tomorrow.

If hope is born of suffering.
If this is only the beginning.
Can we not wait for one hour watching for our Savior?