As a pastor these are not just questions that are asked of me, but they are questions asked by me. As a parent, I shudder. My heart is gripped with a spasm of anguish. I am unable to loosen the tightness of grief that I feel. I change the channel. I busy myself, further tidying the already neat spaces that I occupy. Anything to avoid the reality and the questions that are born from the "surreality" of what happened in Newtown. My adult daughter calls, grief-stricken- the unspoken questions audible in her silent tears. In the moment, I have no answers, no words. Literally, none. Tears answer tears.
I watched the gathering congregation this Sunday morning, streaming in under the weight of the "why?" that they wore like scarves wrapped too tightly around their throats. The third Sunday of Advent is chock full of readings of hope, joy and the call to rejoice. Hearing them was like hearing a foreign language. The words sounded as dissonant as a piano badly out of tune. What reason could we possibly have to hope? How can there ever again be joy? What good is faith at times like this?
This isn't the first time I have tried to find sense amidst the senseless. Nor will it be the last. It is never easy. As I plead with God for answers, I feel God pleading with me - pleading for me to understand his ways, his suffering. Really? His ways? His suffering? I have come to understand that the question, "Where is God when evil strikes?" is asked amiss. The question presupposes that God can intervene when we deem it necessary. The reality is that God grants us, all of us, the ability to choose to do whatever we want. This is a gift that God will, under no circumstances, take away from us, even if we should choose to use it for evil. I have come to believe that our freedom is more costly to God than to any of us.
Think about it. How often do we use our freedom to gossip, lust or covet? We seek no intervention from God in those circumstances. In fact, we want him to keep his distance so we can continue to lie, or hold a grudge or cheat. We love our secret choices. We do indeed hurt others, but never do we ask, "Why doesn't God stop me?" The truth is, we want it both ways. We want to enjoy the blanket freedom that God gives to us, while simultaneously faulting him for not rescinding that freedom from others. God, in this instance, cannot win.
There are those who will choose evil, those who, through mental illness will become agents of evil. There are those who will cause the innocent to suffer. Didn't Jesus himself, the most innocent of all, die at the hands of evil men? Didn't he allow their choice, even though he had the power to thwart them? Didn't Jesus himself ask his Father the question that burns in our throats today, "Why have you forsaken me?" "Why will you not intervene?" To revoke our free will, God would have to recreate the universe. Our freedom is set like the stars in the sky.
Is there any parent who hasn't grieved or rejoiced over the choices of their children? Our choices bring with them great cost and great reward. The relevant question to ask at times like this is not, "Where is God?", but "Where am I?"
How will I use this freedom? What choices will I make to bring light and love into the darkness of this world? How will we teach our children to use their freedom - to avoid evil, or just "not get caught"?
This is the season of gifts. Our God-given freedom is the most precious of gifts, costing God far more than we will ever be able to conceive. Let's carefully think about our choices, finding strength and comfort in his words:
"Prepare the way of the Lord,
make straight his paths.
Every valley shall be filled
and every mountain and hill shall be made low.
The winding roads shall be made straight,
and the rough ways made smooth,
and all flesh shall see the salvation of God."
~Amy
No comments:
Post a Comment