Hard Times Hope

I have a friend who is very angry with God right now and with good reason. She is struggling to reconcile her anger with a powerful loving God who seems to dish out suffering and then stand by to watch what happens. Telling her to read the book of Job is not a good answer. It only proves her anger. To tell the truth, I have no easy answers for this timeless question. Better minds than mine have explored and written about God’s presence, or lack thereof, in a world filled with pain.
As a certified bookaholic, I turn to reading in times of great need. After Tim’s death, I read “A Grief Observed” by C.S. Lewis written about his wife’s death. In him I found a tough minded writer who did not suffer fools or foolishness gladly. His writing served as a staff in the valley of death while he reworked what he believed about God. When my sister committed suicide, someone gave me a copy of “Brother to a Dragonfly” written by Will Campbell. The story of his faith journey through the aftermath of his brother’s suicide helped me find new paths to travel. And always, always, I read the Psalms. Those ancient words sing my sorrow in ways that honor my grief and anger without the sop of easy answers. “How long, O Lord? Wilt thou forget me forever? How long wilt thou hide thy face from me? How long must I bear pain in my soul, and have sorrow in my heart all the day?”
I am not the first person to question God’s presence and loving care in the face of unbearable, unimaginable pain and suffering nor will my friend be the last. As one of my favorite therapists used to remind me, “It is not just about you, Peggy.” Crucifixion happens every day to those we know and love and to those far away. It is as much a fact of life as birth and death. The difficulty comes when we feel singled out as if the universe created by God should be fair and just. My daughter Alison had a standard reply to all of life’s perceived injustice, whether being made to go to bed early or having to do homework… It isn’t fair. Now her son echoes the same observation as he begins to learn how to live in a world filled with discrepancies.
All I know about God is this… God is love. God loves me. When bad things happen, it is not God’s fault nor is it God’s responsibility to fix it. We are all finite creatures and when our time of ending comes, we have choices to make. After the pain and anger subside, we can choose to find meaning and a deeper, truer way of believing or we can choose to be consumed by loss. Either way, God is with us as much as we can stand it. And, sometimes, we can’t stand it for long. I cannot imagine a world where death is the final word, where endings have no new beginnings or a universe without a loving Creator. In the midst of my darkest times, somehow, somewhere, God has come to me in other people, books, the Psalms, animals, and silence. And I know, I know even if just for a moment, that I am not forsaken or forgotten. That memory sustains my hope in this Advent darkness.
Today, Lord, I pray hope will be a companion for those who are angry and hopeless in this season of joyful anticipation. Let hope light the hours of the dark days and nights of sorrow and grief. And somehow, Lord, could you let hope lead us to a blessed assurance that you are present when our hearts are breaking? Please?

It isn't Narnia, you know," sobbed Lucy. "It's you. We shan't meet you there. And how can we live, never meeting you?"
"But you shall meet me, dear one," said Aslan.
"Are -are you there too, Sir?" said Edmund.
"I am," said Aslan. "But there I have another name. You must learn to know me by that name. This was the very reason why you were brought to Narnia, that by knowing me here for a little, you may know me better there.”
― C.S. Lewis, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader