When There Are More Questions Then Answers

 My daughter and I were enjoying dinner at Panera and delving into the theological quagmire of a good God who doesn’t keep bad things from happening.  She has an up close view into suffering through her development work on behalf of the marginalized in southeast Nepal. 

Our conversation was broader than the abject poverty she witnesses in her travels to Nepal and included the recent hurricanes that devastated parts of Texas, Florida and all of Puerto Rica as well as other islands in the Caribbean. It held her grief over the death of a dear friend’s stillborn baby. I added the earthquake in Mexico and the shooting in Las Vegas to the pile of suffering.
 

 

We wrestled with how our all-knowing, everywhere-present, all-powerful God doesn’t intervene and avert tragedy. We agreed that Trinity is relational and has given humankind free will. And we also observed how Jesus in the Scriptures trumped the effects of death, disease, birth defects, and mental illness with miraculous healings. The Bible also records that his voice calmed a tumultuous sea and multiplied a picnic lunch to feed a hungry crowd, thus demonstrating his power over nature and limitations of supply.

And we wondered….if Jesus, God with us, intervened then on behalf of the people he walked among, why does God not intervene now?

 

Distress wrenches deep places in our souls when we allow ourselves to feel the shattered lives of suffering people.

 Pain etched on the faces of those who lost.                                  

Grief shatters the countenance of mothers whose babies were crushed in fallen buildings.

 Hopelessness reflected in the eyes of women and children without resources.

Men with shoulders slumped under the weight of heartache.

Our souls assaulted with the constant fighting between nations and within nations, between people and within the hearts of people. And all the innocent ones caught in the middle.

In our anguish we bellow…..Why??? And find no solace.

 

My daughter speaks of a vulnerable God. I remember Jesus who wept at his friend’s grave and wailed over the city of Jerusalem.  How do I reconcile the reality of the suffering in the world with my belief in a good God?

Am I asking the wrong questions?

What if I ask these questions?

Who are you, God? Who are you to me?

What are you doing, God? What can I do to alleviate suffering from my place in the world?

Where are God’s fingerprints in the world, in my life?

When will God’s kingdom come? When will peace trump my need for understanding?

How is God speaking in these circumstances? How is God speaking through me?

Perhaps if I hold these questions in my heart and listen for God, I will say like Job of old, “My ears had heard of you but now my eyes have seen you.”

Perhaps……..

 

 

 

 

 

Returning Home

 

I’ve lived in several houses in my life; three in the home of my origin and five since I married my forever boyfriend. I think of a house as the physical place a person occupies and home as the people, atmosphere and culture in that space. New questions have been stirring about where home really is for me.

“Home” is a word packed with meaning dependent on experience. For me, home is a sanctuary from the demands of life. It is a nurturing space to rest and regroup. When at home, each person can explore, try and try again, grow and experience love. Home is belonging and security.

When the Preacher and I created our home we preferred order over clutter and created beauty according to our preferences and gifts. Our home culture prioritizes daily connection during family mealtime and prayers.  We trained our children with lots of physical affection, encouragement and correction sandwiched in affirmation. Respect is a core value and we nurture curiosity, responsibility and listening for God. Sometimes there is lots of talking and laughing in our home, other times companionable silence. The Preacher is a man of few words and one time our daughter was concerned I wouldn’t have anyone to talk to when she left for college.  I assured her we are comfortable with silence and simply being present, we use words when necessary.

I’ve been ruminating about the new house we want to build and the home we desire to create on our little acre of woodland. The longing is great for space to grow our hobbies and decrease the maintenance demands of a large house. The wait is hard for the documents needing signed and permissions granted. The desire is strong, yet I wonder, once we are at home in the woodland, will that quiet the longing in my heart? Or is there a spacious house, dusty and forgotten, that I have and didn’t remember I have?

 

My home with God.

The inner sanctuary I occupy with Beloved Trinity.

It too is a place for exploring and listening for the voice of God. A nurturing space where pure love envelopes all my goodness and shadows. It is where I learn the family culture of forgiveness, sacrifice, humility, grace, faithfulness…..love. In this inner haven I learn my name and my nature. It is a place where the gaze of Trinity welcomes me home wanting to hear about my day, its successes and failings, my joys and disappointments. Here as well, togetherness in silence is welcome. This home decorated with the beauty of the Trinity and Melanie, fully alive in who she is created to be.

 

This home I long for…..am I already there?

Can I imagine being so at home with God, laughing around the family table, telling Trinity how I was brave and kind today? How I failed today? Can I gladly accept my place at the table and hear my name spoken with delight and love? To come home and tell of the wonders God has shown me?

Home.