To Ponder Suffering

As I ponder upon the magnitude and intensity of human suffering – specifics, generalisations, through history, at this very moment – I shake my head. Sometimes there are no words.

Who can truly fathom it? Who can really give an exhaustive answer?

Only God.

In our limited experience we can do not much more than lament and consider our finitude and God’s infinitude.

I think of the different answers from different perspectives that we all give. I think of the ivory tower, the intellectuals. I think of the theologians, fluffy liberalism and war-torn saints. I think of the average punter, the daily grind. I think of the minority, disadvantaged and disempowered. It seems that with our powers combined we can do not much more than reflect upon our experiences and tell each other we are not alone. At times we all shake our heads wordlessly.

Of course there are a few who point to the rugged cross.

What is God’s answer to suffering? It’s a strange one. He takes it upon himself. He will carry us to victory, that is certain because Christ is victorious over death. But for the here and now, he tells us that we are not alone.

“What kind of answer is that?” We might ask.

It is one we truly cannot fathom.

For the one who doesn’t want God, it is easy to cast aside.

But for the one who God wants on his side, he takes them on the journey of the cross, through suffering, to himself.

On Bread in the Bible

Recently the women of my small church had a weekend away. One of the organisers had suggested we look at the theme of ‘bread’ in the bible, as we were going to stay at the home of a sourdough baker. I was organising the talks and content side of things, and so I looked through the bible at all the references to ‘bread’, including related words such as ‘leaven’, ‘dough’, ‘mana’, ‘loaf’ etc., in order to ascertain whether there were enough distinct themes or topics for most of the women in our church to give a talk. I was surprised to discover at least 12 themes. Of which, some were related subsets of others. 

We ended up having seven women prepare talks, with an eighth theme covered in a bible study, and the weekend was an edifying experience – for which I am very grateful. 

In reflection upon the whole endeavour I would like to outline in this blog post what those topics were. 

1) Blessings and curses coming through bread.

This was the first topic spoken on, and when I did the initial word study I first noticed it in Genesis 3:19. This theme continues through the life of Israel, with bread (as life-sustaining food) being a part of the covenantal blessings for obedience and lack of bread being part of God’s judgement for disobedience. Perhaps unsurprisingly, a number of personal curses involved wishing that one’s enemies had a lack of bread!

The speaker’s talk application involved acknowledging God when given material provision, and also looking to Jesus the true bread, who provides us with life for eternity. 

2) Bread in worship. 

Or, ‘bread in ritual’ – this topic looked at all the bread used in ancient Israel’s sacrificial system, as part of their worship of God. 

The speaker’s application looked at why these rituals were done – pointing to the fact that they were part of a relationship with God, and highlighting the importance of the heart with any act of worshiping God.

3) Unleavened bread and the Festival of Unleavened Bread (ie, the passover).

This theme started in the Old Testament with the Exodus and culminated in the New Testament – in the form of the Lord’s supper.

The speaker’s application was a challenge to consider how we remember our own salvation, and that remembering effects how we live.

4) Leaven.

While leaven was touched on in the previous topic, this talk focussed on the references to leaven in the New Testament. 

The speaker identified that there were two uses of leaven – one negative (hypocrisy) and the other positive (spread of the kingdom of God). This lead into an application to consider the effects of our own words and actions and to seek to be positive leaven, spreading the gospel.

5) Breaking bread.

This one was a detective-like topic that involved investigating what it meant that the believers ‘devoted themselves…to the breaking of bread’ in Acts 2:42.

Upon closer investigation it became apparent that this breaking of bread was not only fellowship but also more significantly referring to partaking in the Lord’s supper. Cf 1 Cor 10:16-17.

6) A morsel of bread.

This theme was more the repetition of a phrase, ‘a morsel of bread’ in several places in the Old Testament. In five of those places the phrase was literal. However in two of them the individuals who offered a ‘morsel of bread’ actually then went on to deliver a hastily prepared and very generous meal.

The talk focussed on the passage where Abraham offered the three strangers a ‘morsel of bread’ (Genesis 18:1-8) and looked at it from the perspective of hospitality to strangers (cf. Hebrews 13:2). The importance of doing this was particularly highlighted – as Jesus himself points out in Mathew 25:31-46.

7) Mana.

Bread from heaven…in the wilderness! This is a very educational theme, starting in Exodus 16. It is even interpreted in the Old Testament (Deuteronomy 8:3) and then reinterpreted in the New Testament in two significant passages. The first is the temptation of Jesus, ‘man shall not live by bread alone,’ (Matthew 4:3-4) and the second is in John 6, ‘I am the bread of life.’ 

The speaker’s big idea was spiritual forgetfulness, with a challenge for us to cultivate our trust in God, as ‘spiritual forgetfulness is the enemy of Christian joy.’ 

8) Bread and water – covered as a Bible study.

This was one of those themes with lots of passages in which bread and water were referred to together. The study itself asked the question, ‘what is the relationship between bread, water and human life?’ And considered some other questions too, namely what we could learn about God, about people, and how passages pointed to Jesus, etc.

In these passages were a couple of themes. One of them pointed to the fact that bread and water are basic to human life – and that we are dependant on God for life. An application is that we should therefore acknowledge this. Also, the bread and water that we spiritually need is the word of God. 

The second theme indicated a responsibility to sustain the lives of others – even if it is with the basics. In one passage, to not give bread and water to those in need was seen as an evil thing, and in another there was instruction to even give it to enemies. 

Topics that were not covered either in talks or as a bible study:

9) Eating bread with me: Bread and betrayal.

This theme had a small number of passages, yet fairly prominent ones, climaxing in the betrayal of Jesus. 

10) Bread and wise living (Proverbs).

I first had this topic as a subset of the blessings and curses one, as Proverbs sits within the historical context of the Mosaic covenant. However, upon reflection I realised that it could very well be a separate entity in its own right, hence the split. 

11) Bread in Luke’s gospel.

This topic had the potential to overlap with some of the other talks, although there were some interesting bread-y passages particular to Luke’s gospel.

12) Like eating bread: metaphors and similes.

This would have been a harder set of passages to give as a talk as it was more grouped by a literary function rather than content. 

After giving the passages and topics to all the speakers, and then going through the process of hearing all the talks, it became apparent that bread can be used to talk about many different things. This is probably because as something so basic to human life it appears in so many different yet repeated contexts. The talks highlighted profound truths relating to the nature of our existence, responsibility in our relationships with others and the necessity to acknowledge our dependance upon God. What joy to be reminded of all this, and to see God at work through the proclamation of his word by my sisters in Christ.

*Cover photo courtesy of Bowen Mountain Bread.

On Work, and Not Working.

At the beginning of the year I was not a happy man. I wouldn’t say I was depressed, instead it might be labelled, “situational-down-and-out-ness.” In other words, I didn’t have a job. To be clear, I had put myself in this situation. When I finished my theological degree my plan was to look for part-time or casual work in a prior field of study (nursing) while volunteering in ministry at my church. This is commonly called, “tent making”. I expected to find a job as a nurse relatively easily but this was absolutely not the case and it left me feeling very low indeed.

Perhaps you know the feeling of getting the metaphorical door shut in your face every time you go to walk through it. Down every long corridor of job searching is a glimmer of hope that waits to the very last moment to close. It’s frustrating and demoralising. At the same time we are watching all our friends around us walk through those doors with what looks to us as relative ease. Now we’re frustrated, demoralised, confused and angry!

Anyways, I picked up some casual work as a labourer to pay the bills while using my spare time to write sermons, read books, and meet up with people. It was nice to be able to pay the bills and work with such lovely people but it was also a painfully humbling experience. I was working in a field I knew nothing about so I felt like I was stumbling around incompetently yet trying to do my very best. All the while I knew I had trained three years in a completely different field which felt inaccessible to me. Again, painfully humbling.

Can you relate?

Let me share with you a few things that I learnt through this time.

1) Work is still work even if you’re not paid to do it. There are so many people in our churches who are volunteering in ministry. Some will be volunteering without having a paid job. Are they without work? No. They are working without being remunerated, but they are working for the Lord. We might even say they are storing up treasures in heaven (let alone the many unseen benefits and spiritual blessings of working for the Lord here and now).

“Therefore, my beloved brothers, be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that in the Lord your labour is not in vain.” (1 Corinthians 15:58)

2) Joblessness (or working in an un-ideal job) can teach us greater contentment with the necessities of life. Living in a developed western country with such high standards of living we slowly assume that such high standards are in fact the necessities. A cupboard full of clothes, a decent rental, take-away once a week, no debt, savings in the bank, a little bit of superannuation, and maybe a couple of degrees. Obviously all of these are basic necessities… Paul might think differently. Let us relearn contentment, and be abundant in our thanksgiving for God’s abundant provision in our lives.

“But if we have food and clothing, with these we will be content.” (1 Timothy 6:8 ESV)

3) Our value is not in what we do. Our primary identity is as children of God – which is the apex of salvation. The gospel doesn’t just address our fallen state as sinners, but incredibly takes us to the height of adopted children in God’s family! This is a wonderful antidote to our misguided self-worth in our occupations.  

4) On the flipside of point 3, our pain at joblessness also shows us that we are made to work, that it’s built into our bones and that this is God’s good intention (I’m particularly thinking about remunerated work now). I don’t think it’s wrong to find part of our identity in what we are paid to do. That’s why I said earlier that ‘our primary identity is as children of God.’ This doesn’t mean that it’s wrong to answer that question, “tell me about yourself, what do you do?” by responding with our vocation or occupation or field of study. I think that it’s entirely appropriate, it’s just not ultimate. But the pain of joblessness highlights for us our intrinsic desire for work and that part of our identity which is a derivative of our work.

Some concluding thoughts on what we should do with this pain. Firstly, in recognising our unmet desire to work, we should lament that we cannot or are not working. We should pray to be restored to work in his graciousness as our provider. Secondly, let us see that our service for the saints is indeed work for the Lord. And finally, let us remind ourselves of our identity in Christ. This will provide comfort as we remember that our value is not ultimately fixed to what we do, but who we are in Christ.

Men can have shoe problems too.

To be a man is to have temperance in one’s consumption and use of shoes. This universal rule is contradicted by my life. For you see, I owned shoes for every occasion. I had wedding shoes (a pair in white, and a pair in black), running shoes, shoes for everyday wear, shoes to wear around the home, formal shoes for non-wedding related occasions, and shoes specifically for BMX riding. Then I had back-up shoes for when those shoes wore out in the years to come.

Perhaps you can see the way in which this list of shoes is a typical man-ish problem… I had all these shoes based on purely utilitarian grounds! None I owned for style reasons, rather all had their place based on their use. With some ‘in-case’ shoes thrown in for good doomsday prep measures.

Obviously in my mind I felt it was appropriate to have a tool purpose built for the job and we know every job has that little oddity that requires a specialty fit. So obviously wedding shoes and hiking shoes are incompatible because the nuance required for each would naturally contradict each other or at least have very little overlap. Can one sensibly and with head held high walk into a job interview with bright blue running shoes on? Can one go jogging in anything but the specific shoes tailor advertised for such a purpose? No. No, one cannot do so in good conscience.

Except you can.

I got out my Swiss army knife of minimalism and activated my shoe-horn attachment with the direct purpose of ejecting my many shoes from my feet and from my home. It was a success. I am now left with one pair of Dr Martins and one pair of Vans (and some classic Filipino sandals mum bought me 3 or 4 years ago for Christmas).

So why am I writing about shoes? Because when I went through my minimalism fad, shoes were the hardest thing to get rid of for me and I felt their loss quite acutely. At the time I found that remarkable. How could this be the case? Let us ponder this together.

Strangely and ironically, one of the reasons it was difficult was because I actually had to wear in the shoes which I had owned for so long. How stupid is that? I had all these shoes which I had bought with the express purpose of wearing, that I was not wearing! In some sort of twisted lived parable I had to wear the price for not wearing in my shoes.

In an equally strange and ironic way, I also found it mentally difficult. It felt like I was wearing out the shoes that I had paid for. Which again made me think, couldn’t I just wear some cheap-ish shoes for everyday wear and not these Vans shoes? Again, how stupid is that? I bought these shoes to be worn and then worn out but I was treating them like fine china to house only the most exquisite tea… my feet.

Finally and most importantly however, I had this hangover from utilitarianism. The idea that I needed a pair of shoes tailor built to every particular activity was still growing from some stump left embedded in the soil of my mind. I think this final point has taken some time to settle down. It also keeps cropping up in other ways in my life, and I am in need of continually pruning it.

I doubt that there will be many who have had this exact experience themselves. But like I mentioned in my prior blogs on minimalism, perhaps you suffer from the same kind of tendency in a different guise. Perhaps it’s cooking accessories, tools, programs, or hair products. Of course, the point is not to deal with the stuff, but the heart issue that makes us think we need so much stuff. For me, getting rid of so many of my shoes was a time when I saw so clearly the extent to which cultural utilitarianism and consumerism had crept into my life.

Wedding Cards – Four Years On

Over the last few weeks I have been sorting things in our house. One of the projects was a bag of cards from our wedding, some four and a half years ago. 

I quite like cards, and so I didn’t want to just chuck them out, but I did want to reduce the amount of space that they took up. It was a position that I evidently came to as a compromise between my husband’s Can-I-Chuck-It-Out minimalism and my restrained sentimental hoarding tendencies.

What I opened was a time-capsule into the community that was around us then.

April 2016 (the time of our wedding) was during our first full-time year at college. 

I found: 

A card from our Moore College first year group (who we had just met that term).

Cards from our past and current church communities. 

Cards from art students who I had done ministry with.

Cards from family members and relatives – some of whom I rarely see, one of whom has since passed away, another of whom has never since visited us (because it would involve venturing into the city), but they were all there. Our wedding had an amazing attendance record when it came to family members and cousins – I am very grateful. 

And there were also cards from other friends.

It was quite intriguing to read some of these cards and notes, because our relationships with some of the people who wrote them have since become significantly strained. And some others I have sadly lost contact with. We can never take friendship for granted. 

I am grateful to say that the expressed wishes for my husband and myself to have a happy relationship have thus far been fulfilled. We can both honestly say that we have become very dear friends over the years since getting married. It was also wonderful to read some of the prayers in these cards, and to reflect upon how God has answered many of them in our own lives, moulding and shaping us through all the ups and downs.

However, a couple of the cards were also from married couples who have since divorced. Both of these couples were young, like us. One of them was a Christian couple.

I could feel the energy and joy of early married experience flowing through these cards. It was sobering to think that these people did not last together – and didn’t last all that long, either.

It was certainly a warning of the reality of relationship breakdown. Sadly, this is something that is often kept hidden from others until it is too late, and it makes me wonder how many of the other couples who were there at our wedding have since parted ways? Or are struggling and not telling anyone?

Amongst those cards there was also another one – from a fellow believer with whom I have had some significant falling-out in the past. But in this case we also forgave each other and reconciled. This is certainly not a light thing – there was residual pain for some years, but God healed our hearts, and over time our friendship has become much deeper and richer. Reconciliation is truly possible.

All of this encourages me to pray, and to persevere in seeking forgiveness and in giving grace. In this broken world no friendship is immune from trouble. But I take comfort that our God has the power to change hearts – including our own. 

Coming to Faith in a Pentecostal Church. Part 1.

I became a Christian through a Pentecostal church. It was a decent size church in a country town (around 50 – 100 people would attend on a Sunday). I attended the youth group and sometimes attended the Sunday church gatherings. So what was that all like? How did I become a Christian there and what did it feel like? I thought I’d share my journey to faith through the Pentecostal church and reflect on it all.

I went to church because I was dating a Christian. I was not a Christian at the time and she shouldn’t have been dating me, but I’m very thankful that she did because I came to hear the gospel. I was around 17 or 18 years old and was just finishing high school when I started going to youth group with said lass. I had grown up in a non-Christian family but attended a Catholic school. The Catholic Church services that I attended for school purposes were the limits of my understanding regarding the Christian faith. It was dull, boring, weird, and seemed like a bit of a chore (like many things are to young children).

The Pentecostal youth group I found myself in on the other end of high school was very different. The games were intense. One game I particularly have fond memories of was a timed obstacle course made from chairs and tables. But that’s too ‘meh’, I mean, where’s the blood? Well… we made it all the more exciting by including a pulsing strobe light intermittently scattering your sense of sight and causing mahem as chairs would be turned upside down waiting (even begging) for one of us to impale ourselves on their rusty prongs and cause an insurance nightmare. Fair to say, that was a wild night and that was just one such game.

The music was fun. You could shout out the lyrics, pump your first and jump around. The songs were pretty standard Pentecostal songs. The lyrics had a lot to do with the Holy Spirit, the love of God and praying for stuff to happen like experiencing the power of God. Afterwards there were Bible talks. These were given by our leaders who were themselves just a bit older than us and so they were very relatable people. I felt that they personally cared very much for me and my salvation and so they would preach the gospel to that end as best they could. There were other interesting aspects to the Pentecostal experience as well. There was speaking in tongues, prophecies made, and people getting ‘slain in the spirit’ – the stuff that Pentecostalism is well known for. All of this is to say that I went from a dull and boring Catholic primary school church experience to finding myself 10 years later in the pounding Pentecostal powerhouse. And actually, I never thought too much about that sharp contrast, it was what it was.

I would say I spent roughly a year in this church before I was a Christian. Many times I was called to come to Jesus but I didn’t want to. I posed different arguments against Christianity for many months. But eventually I decided, “I will give this Christianity stuff a go.” So I did. I read my Bible and I prayed. I recall doing this for about 3 months. In my memory I would describe those months as difficult. They weren’t what I was hoping they would be. As I prayed I felt that God was distant and as I read I don’t remember absorbing very much. I’m not exactly sure what I expected the Christian life to be like, but I didn’t really think it would be that ordinary. Especially because I was in a pretty experience-filled church.

There was a turning point, however. At the end of that year there was a conference that our church attended. I could only make the last day and I could only make the night session at that. It was one of those wild nights where there was only music and prayer for hours and hours. As I recall it, there was a man who came in on a wheelchair and left walking! There were people falling down all over the place. It was a strange and crazy experience and I truly don’t know what to make of it all.

But I wound up at this conference on the last night, and as people were getting prayed for I found myself wanting to be prayed for as well. I particular wanted to be prayed for by the man up front (I remember the man particularly – Sanjay). And I particularly remember thinking the thought, “I really want to be prayed for by the man up front.” But I also remember thinking straight after, “But I don’t want to go up the front. Nor do I wanna fall over and look silly.” Because I genuinely thought it looked a bit silly and strange (although you do kinda get used to it a bit). Anyways, I distinctly remember that as I thought these thoughts the man at the front pointed to me and told me to come up to him because he was going to pray for me! I was quite surprised, understandably. Even as I walked up to him from my seat in the crowd I was continually telling myself, “Just don’t fall down, just don’t fall down”. It’s funny looking back on it all now, because that’s exactly what happened. I walked up to him, and he prayed for me (I don’t know what he said), and as he did so I fell over for some reason. I am quite comfortable and at peace with the possibility that I fell over because everyone else was doing the same thing, but in that moment there was also a genuine spiritual experience – especially because of what happened next. For some reason, God was in that moment. I distinctly remember that at this point in my life God went from being a distant figure to a very real and personal figure. It was like God suddenly became real to me. All of this is very hard to explain in words because it’s all subjective, emotional and basically experiential. Nevertheless, I cannot deny that it was a pivotal moment in my life.

Would I call myself a Christian from that day onwards? I don’t know what was even in my own heart through those months and even on that very night at that conference. But in my mind I did become a Christian at least by the end of that night. It wasn’t that I heard the gospel that night. It was more like the gospel became real that night, I believed the gospel that night. How did it happen? I think God used that experience and that prayer in that church, I think God condescended to that moment to work a miracle in my heart and mind, not one visible from the outside, but one that would only make itself known over the coming years as the Christian faith began to manifest itself in my life. But that’s another story to tell…

The Alternative of My Doubt

In his book ‘keep the faith’, Martin Ayers says this,

“when you are battling nagging doubt about a particular issue it’s important to think carefully about the alternative. In order for your doubt to be valid, something else must be true.”

There is a lot to appreciate in the point that Martin makes. It’s very easy to doubt something without considering the consequences of our doubt. Sometimes we think that dismissing in disbelief the subject of our doubts we are then dealing with the issue, that nothing further is required of us. In Martin’s book he is explicitly thinking about the Christian Faith, but his point is applicable to many other fields. To merely dismiss an idea but not fill the void that it once took is not enough is it? Well I don’t think it is. But all too often that’s what we do.

We are to carefully consider our options as we confront our doubts. This is perhaps one of the harder practices to assume when confronting doubts because it does not come naturally to us. Doubt is such an emotional journey and it causes such turmoil within us at times that careful consideration is often asking too much. But let me encourage you anyways. In your doubt; stop and pause, take a metaphorical walk in the woods away from the tense and horror filled house of doubt, let your mind settle, sit by that pond with your legs crossed, breath in the good vibes of the universe. Then return to those doubts and start considering afresh. Incidentally, it’s amazing what a good night sleep will do to someone!

There will always come a time when we must do what Martin says, that is, continually test what we believe unless there be something more valid to believe in. But we don’t merely consider what we believe as we test its buoyancy through the precarious waters of doubt. Be pre-emptive. Prepare for the storms ahead because sometimes they are fierce. Do your future self a favour and consider the claims of atheism, buddhism, new-age spirituality, or anything else. But more importantly, do your future self a favour by investigating Christianity more and more. Hopefully you’re already doing this or perhaps you don’t even realise you are. Regular church, regular Bible study attendance, regular reading, even just regular chats as we catch up with each other. All of these are doing your future self a great service for the seasons of doubt.

Moving on, let’s revisit this line, “it’s important to think carefully about the alternative.” When pondering the alternatives as we consider that which we doubt, it’s fair to say we’re often blind to the myriad of options that are out there. I think this goes both ways. That is, considering the strengths of the Christian faith and the relative weakness of other worldviews. If we are doubting the Christian faith, it’s more likely we haven’t considered the breadth and the depth of it. The roots of the Christian faith are deep and it has weathered many storms. All of this has left it stronger. On the flipside, we often think that arguments against Christianity have more weight than they do. It’s probably that we haven’t really stressed the metals of these other worldviews. You’d be surprised that the tungsten of atheism, the steel of Buddhism, and the titanium of new-age spiritualism are just thin sheets wrapped around some soggy MDF boards. They won’t hold as much weight as you might think. In my own personal experience, we often face a problem and become overwhelmed by it. This then gives us tunnel vision and we suddenly feel like we are the only person facing this problem, that there is no viable alternatives to consider and that we must come up with the invention of the wheel from ground zero to face our nuclear threat.

But what happens next? Maybe we pluck up the courage to tell someone our problems, or we are so despondent and despairing that we simply vent them. At which point we are surprised to hear our fellow comrade say something to the effect of, “oh yes that ancient problem! I remember going through that existential crisis myself when I was your age. I found reading “so and so”, and “what’s his name…” really helpful. Then I came to realise [insert important fact we hadn’t realised] and also [insert more important facts we hadn’t realised]. It’s a wild ride! Anyways, I’m always here if you want help thinking about it or more resources.”

I bet you’ve had a similar conversation to that. And I bet you were wondering, “but how can that person have such confidence about [subject that I’m struggling with]?! They must be ignoring the facts or something. They must be ignorant!” More often they are not ignoring the facts. They are simply further along the journey than you are. There are so many ways in which this scenario plays out in all of our lives. It’s not just about the Christian faith. We face this in many different ways: at work, in raising kids, the leisurely pursuit of some other intellectual niche we’re interested in. But most importantly we do face it in the Christian faith. For most of us it won’t be a matter of ‘if’ but ‘when’. Hopefully we will face these times of doubt well, with thoughtfulness, with diligence, with others, and with prayer.

Ayers, Martin. Keep the Faith: Shift Your Thinking on Doubt. Kingsford, N.S.W.: Matthias Media, 2012. p.85

Survivor’s Guilt

Some months ago I wrote a post ‘On Envy’. In this I described the guilt that I had felt when having a good thing that some dear friends of mine wanted but lacked. In the months since that post I found myself in a some-what opposite situation. However, God used the things I had learned in the good times to help me when feeling the lack of a good thing.

I will describe the situation.

Recently I gave birth to and then lost my little baby Ellie. Obviously, this has been quite hard for me and my husband. 

However, in this year alone a good number of our friends have also given birth to babies. A lot of us are just in that stage of life. In fact, in the ten days between when I was in labour through to when our daughter passed away I even know of three babies that were born. What a beautiful gift of life!

Quite understandably though, my friends were then put in the awkward position of trying to figure out how to feel about their joy of having a new baby when my husband and I had lost ours.

Obviously, this is a very hard topic to talk about when one is in that position. Some years ago I had a conversation with one of my mum’s old friends, who had given birth to a child just months before my mother lost my younger baby brother. She expressed the guilt that she felt as she watched my mother grieve. And I am grateful that she told me about this, because it meant that when my daughter also died I was aware of this phenomenon – a phenomenon that may be called ‘survivor’s guilt’.

While I acknowledge that I could feel bitter or envious of the beautiful babies around me, I also intentionally have not pursued such thoughts. As God has taught me over the years, he is my shepherd, and he is also the shepherd of my Christian friends. He is caring for my friends, and he is caring for me. Every situation that we have is given by him, and even in the valley of the shadow of death he holds us close and comforts and provides for us. That I could feel like this is a testament to the work of the Holy Spirit in my heart. I am grateful that the virtues he has fostered in me in the good times are the same ones that have carried me through the dark times. So many things have been helpful. Three that initially come to mind are the long-used reflexive muscle that trusts that God is always good and wise, the ingrained decision to not pursue unhelpful thoughts and the practiced habit of rejoicing with those who rejoice.

Growing up hearing my mother speak of her experience of loss was also another thing that helped prepare me for my own.

When I eventually recalled the conversation with the old family friend I realised that some of my own friends probably felt this way, and so I reached out (As it turns out, my mum had reached out in a similar way in her day with a relative who felt survivor’s guilt. Sadly, history repeats itself). While I acknowledge that grief comes in waves and that there are many things that trigger my sadness I also am not afraid of them. I accept the tears – they are, after all, healing. I also genuinely rejoice with all of my dear friends to whom the Lord has given the joy of live babies. I know that life is rarely straightforward, that new parenthood is difficult in its own way, and I look forward to meeting them all. 

God, Death and ‘War of the Worlds’

In Howard Overman’s 2019 rendition of ‘War of the Worlds’ there is a very interesting scene that made me take note. A couple arrive at a military base looking for their son. They first of all find a woman who has lost her two kids. This woman asks the other mother, “Do you believe there is a God?” Of which her response is a very solemn and honest, “No.”

I really appreciated this scene. Generally speaking I really appreciate sci-fi because it enables us to work through different thought-experiments in such interesting ways. One of the most frequently used topics is ‘God and death.’ This scene is a classic example of that.

The mother of the dead children goes on, “Can I ask you to do something for me?” To which the couple promptly and enthusiastically reply, “Yes of course, anything.” The request, “Bury me with my children.” She is going to kill herself. “No! Don’t do this! Not like this!” Comes the couple’s pleas. “What would you do?” Asks the mother… their answer? They do not answer.

I said that I really appreciated this scene, but not because there is something new here. We’ve probably all seen this played out many times in many different shows and genres. Someone loses something of immense value. Then they lose their hope or purpose. So they ask, “Is there a God?” And as often as I have remembered the scene played out, the answer is, “No.”

I think this is a snapshot of humanity in the West (at least the intellectual currents of our time as popularised by media). If my opinion holds some truth, then that is a very damning snapshot. Those that shape the currents of our thinking can provide no answer in the face of the one thing that matters, death. That is because they reject the one answer to this insurmountable problem, God.

What is the outcome? In this scene of ‘War of the Worlds’ it is hopeless resignation for the bereaved mother, or, inconsistent stubborn persistence to live without any lasting purpose.

To reject God is a brutal self damnation.

Thanks Howard Overman for giving us a glimpse of that reality.

On God as Refuge

What does it mean for God to be a ‘rock of refuge’? If I trust God to be this, does that mean that he will prevent bad things from happening in my life?

This is a question that myself and a friend were recently discussing. Perhaps you might have wondered the same thing. The idea of God being a ‘refuge’ is a common one in the psalms. But how does it square with bad things still happening in our lives?

A couple of weeks earlier, I met up with another friend to read the Bible and this topic had also come up. Having been recently bereaved I was not in the headspace to decide what to read, and so she suggested that we read Psalm 71. 

Something that I particularly appreciated about this psalm was how the psalmist both described God as a ‘rock of refuge’ and someone who was worthy of his trust, and yet he also acknowledged that God had brought ‘many troubles and calamities’ upon him.

From a biblical perspective then, for God to be a ‘rock of refuge’ is evidently compatible with bad things still happening in the lives of those who trust him. 

To return to the conversation with the first friend I mentioned, we discussed our options. 

For God to be a rock of refuge and for bad things still to happen in our lives meant that either…

1) Bad things wouldn’t happen if we trusted him (obviously not always true).

2) God was not trustworthy and would not look after us (not true in the experience of myself and my friend, and certainly not true in the testimony of the Bible). 

3) We could trust that God would be faithful to his promises to work good through everything (Romans 8:28) and also that he would be with us and give us the comfort and strength to endure hardship (2 Corinthians 1:3-4; Romans 5:3-5; Hebrews 13:5-6).

As much as we may not like the idea that we won’t necessarily be always protected from bad things happening to us, something that came out in the conversation was how we can often forget that God is good and kind and merciful. And yet he has proved this again and again in our own lives. We both had gone through things that were quite difficult, and yet God had been with us and comforted us and helped us. In the case of my friend he had provided a way of escape from a bad situation. In my own case he brought me through the valley of the shadow of death and yet showered me with his love and mercy all the way – and brought much more good out of it than I could ever have imagined. As I reflect upon other hard times in my life God truly has been a rock of refuge in the sense that he has been a constant, unchanging source of help and comfort and strength. In his mercy he has also delivered me from many difficult things – and even shortened a recent trial that my husband and I had to endure.

It occurs to me that one can hypothetically picture all sorts of bad things happening in the future and ask, ‘how can God allow that?’ And yet forget that when God has actually brought such things about in our own lives he has also cared for us every step of the way through them.  

As the psalmist writes,

“Your righteousness, O God, reaches the high heavens. You who have done great things, O God, who is like you? You who have made me see many troubles and calamities will revive me again; from the depths of the earth you will bring me up again. You will increase my greatness and comfort me again. I will also praise you with the harp for your faithfulness, O my God.” Psalm 71:19-22a