The certain Someone
Life can wear us down. I know a number of people personally for whom life at present is just an extended holiday. I don’t begrudge them that—it’s the work of God and I’m not about to tell him he shouldn’t so bless them. I know many more whose lives, while not all pleasure, are satisfying. They have enough pleasure in their lives and enough of whatever it takes to meet the challenges that come their way whether they are economic, emotional, social or other. But I know a great number and I know about hosts of others for whom life is one long slog to make ends meet or to continue to carry the heavy-duty burdens they’re faced with every day without fail. Their situation is worse than Job’s was. His trouble came toward the end of a long, richly blessed life and it lasted only a short while before rich blessing returned. In the case of the people I’m thinking about it has been one tough grind from day one and troubles of one kind or another have since dogged them without respite. These people would gladly swap places with Job in a heartbeat.
Among them there are tens of thousands who have no faith in God and can’t look toward him. I don’t intend that as a criticism (though I think it sad beyond words) and I only mention it to say that what follows won’t be very helpful to them—if at all. To those who have faith in God and who endure the kind of life I’ve just described I’d want to say that there’s a way of looking at your life that might make it easier (not easy!) to live out. For a very few of you some unfamiliar truth might even transform your lives completely because you might be able to hear this. Some won’t be able to hear it.
We tend to think that unbroken suffering or pressure or heartache is a token that God doesn’t care for us as much as for others. Now and then you might even wonder if he cares at all, but most of the time you dismiss that thought and are willing to live with the confusion and pain. But it’s hard to see God blessing others and leaving you (relatively) unblessed without thinking that he cares more for them than you. What makes it worse, we also tend to think that blessing and righteousness should go together so that if we’re unblessed we’re tempted to think it’s because we’re not good. That can generate numerous emotional responses. We can become bitter because we see richly blessed people who are (as far as we can tell) certainly no better than we are and maybe not as good. This in turn can generate some bitterness toward God at the subconscious level even while consciously we won’t critique him for it. But, then again, if we’re very sensitive we rebuke ourselves for thinking, "I’m as good as any of them." All those conflicting feelings and thoughts only add misery to the situation.
At the more basic level—with all that inner dialogue set aside—you are just weary. A ray of light, a better day, a check in the post, some respect from the children, a show of genuine affection from the wife/husband, a migraine-free month or a companion to obliterate the awful loneliness—that would make all the difference. So rather than a Bible study or a little lecture you’d settle for a change in your circumstances. "Let’s take care of my crushing debts and then we can have a study about the whys and wherefores of the troubles in human life." That response to talk makes sense—Matthew 25 would suggest that.
But trust in God does make a difference. It enables you to see what isn't visible (see Hebrews 11:1,27) and in the light of his promise that he would always be with you, you can "see" Christ when no one else can (Matthew 28:20 and Hebrews 13:5). You know he's there.
Only an idiot thinks he or she has all the answers to the complexities of the human condition. Only an idiot will say that all suffering has a single face and that one explanation fits all the circumstances. And even if a specific truth is seen to be true, the pain is real and the days are unchanging. "Arrrgh, not morning again already. How I wish I could sleep for a millennium." Or the phone rings, it’s the police again and it’s about Bob, again. While you’re listening you notice someone sitting on your stairs watching you. Or Rachel is back again, the two children are with her again, her face is badly bruised again. And you notice that someone else is with her (who is that?). Or the hospital waiting room is getting smaller and smaller—suffocating you—and as you glance around, the doctors and nurses look less and less concerned about your very real concerns. Does any of this matter to anyone? Does anyone really care? Is there any point to any of this? And then you see a young man sitting across from you. He’s been there since you arrived (when was it? half of forever ago?). Your eyes meet and hold each other, he nods as though he knows and without being told, without asking, you know he’s Jesus Christ. And somehow things have changed.
©2004 Jim McGuiggan. All materials are free to be copied and used as long as money is not being made.
Many thanks to brother Ed Healy, for allowing me to post from his website, the abiding word.com.
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