Humanity
has a nasty little habit of boxing up God. It is, I think, a natural
repercussion of our finite state; despite our best attempts to comprehend his
infinity, we can achieve a measure of success only by delineating boundaries
which confine him. One of our many boxes is relegating God to only the “good”
times in our lives. The logic goes something like this: God is good, he loves
us, so when something bad happens in my life, God cannot be in it. Sadly, it is
a lie that many of us find ourselves believing.
One of
the surpassing beauties of Scripture is how it condescends to human frailty.
Those themes which are most vital to us, those deepest truths, are repeated
time and again to remind, persuade, and
assure us. It is as if God, in composing the canon, annotated in bold
letters: “Don’t miss this!” One such recurring statement is that God is always
with his children. Just consider for a moment the myriad passages which express
this in one form or another: “I will never fail you. I will never forsake you”
(Hebrews 13:5); “We are hunted down, but God never abandons us” (2 Corinthians
4:9); “I am with you always” (Matthew 28:20); “Even when I walk through the
dark valley of death… you are close beside me” (Psalm 23:4); “I can never get
away from your presence! If I go up to heaven, you are there; if I go down to
the place of the dead, you are there” (Psalm 139:7-8). The sentiment of these
verses is not, “God is with us, but only when the sun shines and all is as it should be in the world.” No,
they assure us of just the opposite: That he is a constant and devoted ally,
not a fair-weather friend.
However,
the reality of this – and its beauty – goes much deeper. God doesn’t simply tag
along as we muddle through our sorrows. He
gives them purpose. In this life, heartache and pain are inevitable; they
are the aftershocks of a fateful day in a paradise lost. Yet such is the
greatness of our God that he is able to fashion from our consequences something
which works in our favor; as at creation, he breathes into our dust and ashes
to create life. And so the little annoyances and the heartrending sorrows
become the sandpaper which smoothes our rough edges, the kiln which burns away
our dross.
Still,
in those moments we wonder: Has God abandoned me? If we will but listen, he
whispers to us in the deepest places of our soul, “I am with you even now.”
This is
perhaps one of the most difficult lessons for young people to learn, made
particularly so by our instantaneous, just-add-water culture. Society has conditioned
us to respond to what we feel at this moment, right now. Hunger, boredom, and nearly
any other appetite or emotion has a quick fix: Fast food, high-speed internet,
instant messaging, movies on demand – the list is endless. These in and of
themselves are not wrong, but their effect lingers well beyond their immediate
reach. So when we feel sadness or grief or despair and there is no direct
resolution, we instinctively assume the worst: God must have abandoned us.
This is
why James, with such deep insight, wrote, “Whenever trouble comes your way, let
it be an opportunity for joy. For when your faith is tested, your endurance has
a chance to grow” (1:2-3). The implication could not be clearer; one has no
need of endurance if the outcome is immediate. Rather, it is the quality which
sustains those who find themselves in a protracted affair. Restoration is a
lifelong process, and God is in every moment. This life is a training grounds;
he is preparing us for an existence beyond the confines of time, when we will
join him in the sprawling expanses of eternity.
We, who
have walked through the valley of shadows, who have caught glimpses of the
Almighty by our side, have a most remarkable opportunity: To flesh out the
words found in Scripture which assure us that God is indeed faithful. So let us
sing and re-sing this anthem for generations to come: His love “never fails,
never gives up, never runs out” on us. One less box...
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