For a good chunk of my life, probably four years or so, I prayed weekly with a group of Christian friends to know God's character and have it "impressed upon" my life. I'm still not sure I know what this means, but I do know it doesn't go away. A couple weeks ago it popped up in a video promotion for a controversial pastor's new book using words that are perhaps easier to understand: "What is God like?"
Then the fifth largest earthquake in recorded history hit Japan. On Monday I heard on the radio that 2,000 bodies had washed up on the shores of the Miyagi prefecture. What is God like? Does he intentionally slaughter thousands? Does he stand by helplessly, wishing he could act? Both seem unbearable. The phrase "act of God" is relentless in its complexity.
Lately I've been wondering if rejection or acceptance of the existence of a loving god all boils down to your approach to the problem of suffering: either you cannot bear the idea of a horrific earthquake in Japan (or Haiti, or China) with God, or you cannot bear it without him.
And though I don't always hold up in a crucible like this I believe I can say I still can't bear it without him, even if I must accept hidden purposes behind violent, senseless events. Even so, in earnest honesty I admit that this acceptance cripples my courage. It is overwhelmingly difficult to trust a God whose plan for your life and the life of everyone you know may be terrible destruction. (My sister Anna calls this kind of bravery, the courage to trust a God who may cause you to suffer, art.) This is one of the many things, laziness and selfishness among them, that keeps me on a path of striving to imitate Christ while simultaneously avoiding knowing him or trusting him or discovering "the plans he has for me." Because despite all I have to say about him, and especially during weeks like these... I'm not sure I know what God is like.

appreciate this.
ReplyDeleteI love your honensty here. One of my old pastors used to say that if we really knew how big God was our lives would be starkly different. We suffer from the problem of a small God.
ReplyDeleteMany awesome (and difficult) things to ponder. Thanks for this.
ReplyDeleteBefore I even saw your post, I was up late last night thinking and praying about similar things. Struggling, I guess you'd say. Wrestling with God in the dark.
ReplyDeleteI appreciate you a great deal, Justin Scott. Be well.
This was a good post. Somehow this seems relevant, although i'm not exactly sure how:
ReplyDelete"The cross is primarily and above all things at enmity with itself. The cross is the conflict of two hostile lines, of irreconcilable direction. That silent thing up there is essentially a collision, a crash, and a struggle in stone...
Man is a contradiction in terms; he is a beast whose superiority to other beasts consists in having fallen. That cross is, as you say, an eternal collision; so am I. That is a struggle in stone. Every form of life is a struggle in flesh. The shape of the cross is irrational, just as the shape of the human animal is irrational." -The ball and the cros, G.K. Chesterton.
Thanks, guys.
ReplyDeleteIt's so hard to put words or thoughts to these difficult things - you did it quite well. Thanks for inviting us to wrestle through this honestly.
ReplyDeleteI appreciate posts like this. Your honesty is both frightening and lovable.
ReplyDeleteFrightening?
ReplyDeleteThank you for this.
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