Hammer on Anvil '

In the aftermath of the tragedy in Connecticut, I’ve noticed something about many people in terms of how they think about God.  When times are well, we rarely think about God.  After all, if I am doing well, why do I need God?  But when times are bad, we think God must be bad for allowing it to happen.  It seems that many people are unwilling to see God no matter what circumstances they face.  I’m not sure yet what to take from this observation, but I found it interesting.

I was going to write a post about the tragedy in Connecticut, but then Mike Huckabee made a statement that I think said it more eloquently than I probably could.  Please take three minutes to watch this clip.

God is merciful, just, great and mighty. He is omnipotent (all-knowing) and omnipresent (with us always). There is one thing, though, that God is not: He is not a safety bubble. Difficult times will come to many of God's faithful followers. I have often asked "Why?", and knowing what I know about my Lord, I have more often asked "When?". In my Bible reading this week, I received a hint of the answer to "Why?", and I wanted to share it with you.

In Romans 8, Paul writes about the suffering of the Christian, and how we are called to handle trials. He assures us that the Holy Spirit sends up our deepest hopes and fears on our behalf-ones that are too deep for us to have the words to express. He speaks of the strong hold God has on us; one that nothing can break. Then, in Romans 9, he humbles us to show us the way:

 You are only a human being. Who do you think you are to talk back to God? Does the clay say to the potter, “Why did you make me like this?” Doesn’t the potter have the power over the clay to make one pot for special purposes and another for garbage from the same lump of clay?  --vv.20-21

God has created us for a purpose, and He is the only one with the authority to define us. This truth applies to hard times we face. When tragedies happen in our lives, our role is not to question why, as hard as that may be. We are called to ask "How should I respond to this?".  The answer to "Why?" is, in short, "for God's glory". When we respond to tragedies with peace and steadfast faith, that behavior becomes a powerful witness for God. 


Perhaps this is not the answer we are looking for. Certainly, it's not the answer that solves all our problems. What's important is that it's the answer that helps us cope. We will still grieve, and feel sad, but we know that God will always be with us and will always give us what we need to conquer whatever is before us. All we have to do is trust Him.

Last week, I sat in silence in my Sunday school class. That may not sound very unusual until I tell you that I am the teacher--usually. I woke up that morning with a terrible cold that turned out to be a wonderful blessing.

One of the students made an analogy that I spent the remainder of the lesson pondering. We were discussing the spiritual discipline of giving, and how sacrificial giving makes us very uncomfortable. The analogy was this: "Sin can be like a soft bed with lots of pillows and blankets. We get very comfortable in our sin. Living for God, in comparison, is like laying on a bed of nails. It looks like it could be very painful, but if we spread our body weight evenly over the nails, it's not."

So many things popped into my head at those words. First, I thought, "That really gives new meaning to Psalm 46:10: Be still, and know that I am God." The more we squirm on a bed of nails, the more pain we experience. It's when we lie still that we find peace.

Then I began to think about my relationship with God. It's his job to mold me into the image of Jesus. The potter does the work in molding the clay, but if the clay gets off center as it spins, a mess ensues. It's the same way with us. When we, the clay, resist the Potter's hand, we experience pain. When we resist God's leading, we fall down the wrong path and get hurt.

It's not easy to be still and let God change us. Even at our best, there will be hard lessons. I just keep going back in my mind to that image of lying still on a bed of nails. It takes a great deal of concentration to stay that still, and can you imagine the peace that would accompany such a stillness of body and mind?

That's the good gift God wants to give us-not comfort, but peace. Being comfortable is certainly desirable, but in this sinful world, we are more likely to experience comfort in the form of grief. Peace transcends hard times. God suffers with us during trials, but He has peace, because He knows how it's going to turn out for us. Because we are His children, we will have the best ending possible. Heaven is worth a little suffering on the journey, isn't it?

When I was in college, I went through a difficult time of depression. There was no real reason for it; it was just there. I remember pleading with God on several occasions to please, please stop the pain. It turned into a pivotal moment of questioning my faith (which is okay to do btw). After all, how could a loving God allow me to have pain? Eventually (and long after I would have liked), the answers came. It was very much a “sieve moment” like Jerrod was talking about yesterday. God truly opened my eyes to the question of pain in a way that never would have occurred if I didn’t go through that difficult time. I’ve since written a 5-page Word document to explain the revelations I had during that time. What follows is a seriously condensed version.

Imagine this scenario. A dog that has stepped on a thorn and gotten it stuck in his paw. It is very painful for him, so he goes to his master for help. His master knows that the thorn needs to come out, but he also knows that pulling it out will hurt the dog very much. The dog, who does not think like humans, only knows that the thorn hurts and offers up his paw for his master to fix it. The master pulls it out quickly. The dog yelps in pain and runs away from his master. In the dog’s mind, the master has just caused him great pain, and so he must be bad.

Or another scenario. Consider the metamorphosis of a caterpillar into a butterfly. The caterpillar gathers resources and stores fat in preparation for his transformation. When he is ready, he builds a cocoon. Amazing things happen over the next several days. However, at the end of this time, the cocoon becomes very tight. It won’t budge. The butterfly is in pain. If you could hear its thoughts, it would be screaming, “Help me! Help me!” Hearing this, you might be tempted to help the butterfly by quickly opening the cocoon for him. However, if you do that, the butterfly will probably never be able to fly. The actual struggle of emerging from the cocoon forces the butterfly through a process that is necessary to enable it to fly. “Helping” the butterfly may be condemning it to sit on your windowsill to watch all the other butterflies soar through the air.

Both of these analogies have lessons that we can learn from. In comparison to God, we are like dogs or caterpillars. Despite how smart or wise we might think we are, we know nothing compared to God. Just like it says in Isaiah 55:8-9, “’For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,’ declares the Lord. ‘As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.’”

There are SO many instances of pain that we don’t understand. We just look at it and know that it sucks. But as Christians, we need to look at everything a different way. We need to look at it with eternity on our minds. For myself, that 3-4 years of depression really sucked, but I would not be nearly the man I am today without having gone through it.

Now, remember I said that I pleaded with God to end my pain? From my perspective, here is what happened. I was in pain, I prayed, God heard, God waited, God delivered, I praised God (for what He accomplished through the pain). Now, remember that God is an infinite being. He hears all prayers and all praises at all times. That means that God was allowing me to continue through depression at the same time that He was listening to both my pleading that He end it and my praise that He allowed it to continue.

This is why NOW when I pray, I do my best to pray like Jesus prayed in Matthew 26:39. He prayed, “My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will.” (underline added)

When Jesus prayed this, he knew that he would soon be betrayed and crucified and he would take all of the sin of the world upon himself. How petty do our own concerns seem next to this? And yet still, in his prayer, he let God know his desire, but made it very clear that God’s desire was most important.

I’ve already gone longer than I meant to, so let me end by urging you to take a look at the lyrics to a couple of my favorite songs that deal with this issue:

Blessings by Laura Story

Praise You in this Storm by Casting Crowns

Oh yeah! Do you have a time when you had to go through a season of pain and later saw how God had worked through that season? I LOVE hearing stories like that, so please share it with me in the comments. Thanks!