Tragedy and God

What does one say after the murders of this past week?

How do we wrap our minds around the terrorists all around us, terrorists who kill their own mothers and numerous little children?

But even more perplexing, how do we think about God in relation to an event such as this? And during Advent no less.

How do we sing, as I did just an hour ago, “Praise God from whom all blessings flow…”, when we see tragedy such as this around us?

And please don’t give me the theological “answers” right now. I know the options in that department better than most people. Its my job, after all.

This, of course, is the age-old problem of evil. If God is all-powerful, completely in control, holds all things in his hands, how can a tragedy like the one in Newtown, Connecticut happen? What sort of God would allow that?

As a person, as a mother, as a theologian I have few good answers. I find myself in the avenue of mystery. Great, beautiful, terrible mystery. I simply do not understand. And I get the sense that, like Job, even if I was granted a face to face encounter with the Almighty, I still would not understand the “whys” of this sort of evil. 

But this is Advent, the time we look back to God taking on human flesh, and joining us in the mess we have made of this world. And the time we look forward to Christ coming back again to finish what he started over 2000 years ago; the time when there will be no more death, or sorrow, or pain. To that end we pray, Lord Jesus, come quickly!!

Re-thinking Rob Bell and Hell

I was at a conference a few weeks ago. Because of my interest in eschatology, that is, the doctrine of the end times, I went to one seminar about hell. The young man was presenting a summary of his dissertation which happened to deal with eternal punishment.

His thesis was interesting. He was looking at various interpretations of biblical texts dealing with judgment and eternal punishment and how we can understand the eternal condition of the unsaved given the variety of pictures given to us in Scripture. I thought he presented an interesting hypothesis and defended it quite well.

When he opened a time for questions, several good ideas and challenges were raised and he answered each inquiry very well. But then came the zinger.

This person asked why the presenter was talking about the various biblical portrayals of eternal punishment as metaphors. The question caught me completely off-guard. What else would those pictures be? After all, a metaphor paints a picture of reality but does not necessarily deny the reality. In other words, if I say that God is a rock, I am not denying that God is God. I am simply saying that some of the characteristics of a rock remind me of the way God is.

The presenter answered the question well. But the questioner persisted. “Are you saying that there is not literal fire and screaming, and torture, and darkness?” 

Once again, the young presenter replied well, explaining that these are depictions of the horrors of being separated from God but not necessarily hard and fast literal representations of a particular place. After all, he explained, how can a place be both utterly dark and have fire? Good response.

Undaunted, the questioner replied that in the Bible, God tells us what he wants us to know and that God obviously wanted us to know that this (fire, screaming, etc.) was what hell really was.

I confess that I didn’t hear many “hell” sermons growing up. But I also know that Reformed theology in general is quite reticent to say much about hell and eternal punishment, leaving it to God’s eternal wisdom. One Reformed theologian even says we should all hope hell is empty. This is what I grew up with.

But it occurred to me that perhaps Rob Bell had a very different background; one with a pastor like the questioner. The questioner seemed not only to want to insist on eternal, active, tortuous suffering of the reprobate, but also seemed to delight in this knowledge. Yikes! Perhaps Rob's reading of Scripture is a bit more understandable.

Pet Death

I blogged a week or so ago about our decision to put our dog, the dog we have had for 15 years, to sleep. As it turned out, we did not have to put her to sleep. She died of natural causes just two days before our appointment. We were glad that we did not have to actively put an end to her life. But we were sad that she was gone.

In fact, I was surprised at the level of grief we all felt. She was a dog, after all.

But I guess I shouldn’t have been. After all, she was a member of our family. Our youngest child really doesn’t remember much before we had our dog.

Its lonely without her. I sit down at the piano, and she is not there to join me anymore. I walk in the door from work and realize that I am alone. She is not there to greet me, get into the open pantry cupboard, or bark to go outside. She is not waiting for me in the morning to slip her a few Cheerios. And she does not need to be put into the back hall when I leave.

Pets are more than property. They are warm, furry parts of our lives. And in my experience (and that of our kids) they are perhaps one of the best pictures of unconditional love most of us will ever encounter, outside of Christ. Regardless of how she felt, time of day, my mood or condition, Muffin always greeted us enthusiastically and wanted to be close to us. To personify further, she loved us.

My daughter is sure Muffin is in heaven. I will leave that perennial question unanswered. But I am sure that she was a gift to our family and is greatly missed. And I also know that I understand more fully how important a pet can be and will never minimize pet death again.

Abstract vs. Concrete

I’m a pretty logical, rational person. I can usually discuss things without letting too much emotion enter in and come to a good decision. Usually; not always.

Our dog is getting very old. She has been a part of our family for 15 years since she was 2 months old and 2 pounds small. She can’t eat much any more. She is skin and bones. She is deaf. And she has begun having seizures which temporarily debilitate her.  We have known that we could not let her go on this way or let her deteriorate to the point of ongoing suffering.

Over the past week, we have discussed putting her to sleep, killing her that is, although I hate to put it in those terms. I have cried with everyone else but am usually the first one to bring things back into perspective and encourage a reasonable, humane decision.

But today I had to call the vet and make the appointment. That was a different story.

I couldn’t get the words out of my mouth without crying. And I am still crying as I think about telling the kids the date and time. I wish I could just call and cancel the whole thing, prolong the inevitable. There is a significant difference between thinking about something, and doing it. . . 

God and Job

One of the Scripture readings the other day was from the book of Job, chapter 38. Despite having read and studied Job numerous times, a particular phrase caught my attention this time through.

Job has been questioning God for most of the book. He has repeatedly asserted his innocence against his friends’ accusations of guilt. And he has frequently asked God to give him a hearing, to explain to him why he is being tormented. Here, in chapter 38, God shows up to respond to Job. Speaking out of the storm, this is what God says:

“Who is this that darkens my counsel with words without knowledge? Brace yourself like a man; I will question you and you will answer me.”

After 38 chapters of Job asking questions of God, often from a position of despair, now God will ask questions of Job.

Funny, isn’t it?

Job has dared to protest to his Creator, has begged for an audience. Now he gets exactly what he has asked for but not at all what he expected.

I like to picture God, a twinkle in his eye, speaking these words to Job.

Why a twinkle in his eye?

Well, the Bible repeatedly tells us that God is our father. Good parents often do things and demand things that puzzle their children. They understand a bigger reality than the child does. So God, like a good parent, holds back a smile as he in good Socratic form, responds to Jobs questions with a series of questions.

That is comforting because I, like Job, have spent a fair amount of time questioning God—his ways in the world, his action or lack thereof—you name it. And I know, that although I, like Job, do not have the big picture, God must have a reason for what I observe. It is good to know that God does not get angry. He is not offended by Job’s questions or cranky that he has to take time out of his schedule to address Job, or me. And thanks to information that I have, that Job was not privy to, I know that I can take all my fears, questions, and uncertainties before the throne of grace, knowing that the One who is like me in every way, except for sin, hears and has compassion on my child-like concerns.

Remembering

I spent yesterday afternoon having tea with my daughter, a senior in college. Some events over the weekend had prompted the invitation to come and chat. Most of what we did, as it turned out, was reminisce. You might think that at the ripe old age of 21 there is not much to reminisce about. But we have always had a close relationship so sitting and thinking about the various milestones in her life could have gone on much longer than the 2 hours we spent.

As it was, we spent our time smiling, laughing, and crying together as we remembered.

We laughed about the skinny, awkward middle school years. We smiled about the insecurity of her high school years, time she spent (as do many young people) trying desperately to figure out who she was. Our hearts warmed as we remembered some significant events and people of her junior year of high school, one in particular, who helped ease that insecurity and move her self-awareness forward. And we cried as we recalled a devastating, life-changing event her freshman year of college, an event that left her mentally bruised and battered, yet significantly stronger.

And perhaps that was something of our mutual take-away yesterday.

I remember at the time of her tragic experience wondering if, when, and even how she would recover from what happened. For months afterward she would say that this event had “killed her.” But as she recovered, I remember thinking to myself that this young woman – this post-trauma young woman – this was the young woman I had hoped she would become someday. And in fact her ‘becoming’ had happened not in spite of the tragedy, but because of it.

Tragedies can often lead to a sort of remembering that tries to press the rewind button on life, remembering that asks ‘what if.’ She and I have done plenty of that.

But ‘what if’ remembering is both unproductive and despair inducing.

Productive remembering looks at the past in a way that takes the full weight of tragedy and triumph into account. It learns from these events recognizing that while we cannot change the past, we can use it to shape the future.

Perhaps this is why one of God’s most frequent commands to Israel is to remember. In looking back, Israel could not only see their mistakes, but see God’s healing hand at work, bringing new life out of death.

Obedience

It is not particularly uncommon to hear Christians talk about what I will call ‘weekend behavior’ in ways not all that different from their non-Christian counterparts. Somewhere along the line, the very true idea of salvation by grace alone has been warped into the notion that what I do doesn’t really matter that much. After all, I am saved.

Christian Smith, a sociologist and author of Soul Searching and Souls In Transition has made exactly this point with respect to 14-28 year olds. Morality, for this group basically means being nice and not offending anyone. This holds true for the conservative Christians he interviewed, as well as those from other religious backgrounds. In further studies, he has noted that this attitude was caught from parents (my age group). So the problem runs deep.

In my time with God today, two texts leaped off of the page. One was from my ongoing personal reading which brought me to 2 John 6 today. That text said, “And this is love: that we walk in obedience to his commands.” The other text, from the assigned reading in my devotional book was John 14:21. It reads, “Whoever holds to my commandments and keeps them is the one who loves me.”

In other words, to ignore God’s commandments is really like saying to him, ‘I don’t love you.’

That’s worth thinking about.

What does the ever-growing-in-popularity choice to live with one’s boyfriend or girlfriend rather than marry that person say to God?

How about partying like a rock-star on the weekend?

Or stealing from the government by cheating on your taxes?

Or gossiping?

So we sing “I love you Lord” on Sunday morning but participate in behaviors like these during the week. According to the two texts I read today, as well as the understanding of what love is throughout the Old Testament, actions like these make our words fall flat.

If I want to respond to God in love, I must obey. That will likely cost me something. And it might offend someone. But in our response to God, as with our lives in general, actions do, in fact, speak louder than words.