a few weeks ago, my daughter had a profound revelation. At bedtime, she asked that I pray against scary thoughts and dreams. I always do and remind her that she can also talk to God about these things. I tell her “it’s just a conversation like you and me are having right now”
to which she quickly responded “but mom, I have! I’ve prayed and asked God but I still get scary thoughts and dreams!” and if that isn’t the realist thing I’ve ever heard, then I don’t know what is.
I paused, unsure of how to proceed forward, desperately wanting to shield my innocent daughter from the reality of the mystery. But also wrestling with the wide chasm between the God I was taught about in Sunday school and the one I’ve experienced.
I sighed, “honey, I’m sorry. I don’t know why he hasn’t answered your prayers. I prayed for Grammy to be healed and she died. I don’t understand why he answers some prayers and doesn’t answer others”
If you grew up in a Christian home, you may feel my anxiety with this scary response. The kind of question we like to answer wrapped up with shiny bows of “God’s ways are higher than ours!” or “God works in mysterious ways!” or “God works all things together for good!” or “Just keep believing!” as if we haven’t been already.
But the honest truth bleeds raw, vulnerable, and ugly sometimes. It’s confusing and uncomfortable. Naturally, I avoid these feelings because it’s terrifying to put your belief in a God who says “I’ll do whatever you ask in my name” (John 14:14) and yet when children are blowing up to bits, raped, starving and your prayers go unanswered while the “righteous” continue on with their good life, it doesn’t take much to see I must be missing something. At the very core, my heart desperately cries out “are you even listening God? Do you even care?”
as much as I despise the tension, I’m beginning to grasp that it is where the Divine is often found. Not in the pews of the church or perfectly crafted doctrine statements or in the sparkly Christmas Eve services — the divine is found within the wrestling of our spirit. And that is all I can grasp for the moment. A tiny breadcrumb.
The God of the universe chooses to dwell amongst the suffering… not because they chose him, but he chose them first. Even so I do not pretend to understand the decision to not rescue and answer today, right now. Yet with a white-knuckled grip I hold fast to the redemption at work for all that suffer, because theirs —ours— is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.
Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.
Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.
Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me.
Rejoice and be glad, because great is your reward in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.
Matthew 5:3-12
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