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Two stories, one GodMonday, April 1, 2019
From John 4 But there's another story, with another ending, this one not about a stranger, but about a man after God's own heart, Jesus' most well-known ancestor: The Lord struck the child that Uriah's wife had borne to David, and he became ill. David sought God on behalf of the child. He fasted and went in and lay all night on the ground. On the seventh day the child died. Bono and Eugene Peterson, talking about the Psalms, yearn together for "honesty" in Christian art. Bono asks, "Why couldn't a Christian write a song about their bad marriage and give honor to God?" Good question. We spend much more teaching and preaching time on the miracle of Jesus than we do on the death of David's child. And that's not really fair, especially to parents whose children have died. Do I need a miracle to get a witness to the power and grace and mercy of God? Oh, I hope not. If I do, my faith is dishonest, my hope is disrespectful, and my love is selfish. Bad things happen to good people, so Pastor Peterson said we must be able to "cuss without cussing." In Ephesians 4, Paul quoted Psalm 4 and said, "Be angry, and do not sin." Like David I will pray and fast, and say, "Who knows whether the Lord will be gracious to me?" In this way I live out my faith and hope. But also like David, I may not get my wish. What then? It's simple to say but hard to do: I must go "into the house of God and worship." His unchanging grace falls on us for better or for worse. Still, in my despair I sometimes turn away, am angry, cuss. And sin. God's in no hurry. He waits and sits with me while I weep my bitter tears. He listens to me ask "Why?" He listens to me sigh, "If only ..." He listens to me even when I say, "Don't you even love me, Lord?" In this place beyond words, God just holds me. Touches my face with his hand. Runs his fingers gently through my hair. Wipes our mingled tears. At last I turn back and lay my head against God's chest. His arms tighten around me. Listening to his silent lovesong, I am reminded as he reminded David, of eternity. And I too whisper, "I shall go to him ..." Lord, pour your long view of my life into the mold you make for me. Be patient with my confusion and anger. I know the chaos that I feel turns at last to tapestry. There is no hurry. It will come. |