I heard terrible news, that made me wonder if it was possible to hunker down even deeper than I have been since March.
I found myself struggling for words to say about something I couldn’t even imagine; something that seemed so wrong and poorly timed.
I was suddenly relieved that God knows my thoughts; my unspoken petitions. I wanted action and immediate answers to a string of questions. I realized I didn’t have that right.
There are people you know and admire, but you’re not a part of their inner circle. It doesn’t, however, minimize your concern any less when they suffer loss. When you’re even remotely aware of the strength of a person’s faith, even as you pray for them, it encourages you.
There are a lot of things that are so unfair.
Rascals seem to prosper, while kind people suffer.
There are things I don’t understand; I can’t make sense of them.
The consolation is, that I don’t have to. Everything is God’s business. He knows things that I don’t. Maybe I'm concluding that is the lazy way out of becoming angry, or collapsing in despair over bad news, but trusting Him to handle things; to work all things together for the good of them who love Him, is the only way I know.
The tears in my eyes and lump in my throat, plus the need to understand what happened to someone so young, left me speechless. Why, too, was someone so nice and beloved to so many, grieving again? Considering the destruction on top of destruction made me angry. Some things are unnecessarily cruel, and deserve justice and vengeance that I don’t possess— but God does.
Without saying a word, I knew God discerned my hope that He would please comfort, fortify, and help those who were so heavy on my mind.
In the midst of my questions, I suddenly recalled how my childhood pastor would preach at funerals. At the time, I didn’t understand why Rev. Coates seemed so angry and agitated, as he pounded his fist on the pulpit and shouted, “God is on the side of life! God is on the side of LIFE!” He would rail at the well-meaning, but silly, poetic, religious, habitual, non-scriptural, insensitive things people often say to the bereaved. He lamented how we assign people’s souls to Heaven or Hell, based on how we think they lived. He argued how we blame God for cruelly devastating families, and make Him seem like a sadistic, selfish jerk of a gardener, who goes skipping around randomly plucking perfectly good “flowers” for His “garden”. Rev. Coates’ messages were clear. Too many have a perception of God, but based on their rhetoric, traditions, or religion, but they have no idea who He is. They do Him, and His Word a disservice every time they open their mouths to supposedly comfort those who are mourning. They don’t understand that for some, physical death ushers in freedom and relief, and for others a wake-up call; a motivator to assess one's life and how fleeting it is. It’s not, however, an end.
We either have to be better representatives; better comforters, or just stop talking. We’ve got to stop abridging the Bible even if it’s to make ourselves feel better.
“...absent from the body and present with the Lord”. We hear that a lot, but it has a WHOLE phrase in front of it that we, somehow, totally ignore or erase. It negates what we’ve been thinking, and pronouncing at wakes and funerals. If this pandemic has proved anything, it’s proved that where you’d RATHER be, or where you’re WILLING to be, may not be where you are, OR where you’re going.
“You love him, but God loved him best? How ridiculous is that? God is not a monster! God is on the side of life! He isn’t taking your loved one away!” I could almost hear him, his voice rising and his brow furrowed. Rev. Coates was tired of people blaming God. His shouting, while a casket was positioned directly below him, was downright confusing—until I understood the resurrection.
In a world full of tragedy of various kinds, God’s Word should be encouraging enough. If Christians aren’t confident in His Word; if Christians don’t believe it’s sufficient and true, (even the seemingly hard parts) and resort to rewriting it, amending it, abandoning it, or just flat out making up stuff, what does that say? What’s the point? Where’s the hope? Where’s the light?
Sometimes, it's best not to say anything at all.
Keep believing.
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