Wrestling, With Trust (sermon Lite From Yesterday)
Theodicy. Why is there evil in the presence of an all-knowing, all-loving, all powerful God? Why do bad things happen to good people? Why do good things happen to bad people? Why me?
And then we read Matthew 15:21-28 and are confronted with a Jesus who is silent and then insulting in the face of a mother’s pain. Yes, he gives her what she wants in the end, but not before kicking her while she’s down.
What do we do with such a God?
“Wrestling, with trust.” There is a comma in that phrase for a reason. It’s not about wrestling with the abstract of trusting God in difficult times, but wrestling with God and His actions from a starting point of His love for us. Beginning to lash out, question, petition, argue, fight, cry, and pound or fists on the gates of heaven with the proposition “He loves me” held, even tentatively, in mind and heart.
The idea that “Christian stoicism” is stupid: that our lot is not not blindly accept whatever the universe/God throws at us without question, saying “Thy will be done” while swallowing the obvious bitterness. Rejecting the notion that doubt born of fear, pain and real suffering is sign that we are weak in our faith. Allowing others in our community to grieve, share, be frustrated and to ask the hard questions in safety and love, without being judged by their fellow Christians, forgetful of their own dark hours.
We can wrestle with God because He’s a big boy: He can take it. We can “cast our cares upon Him” even when, esp when, those cares are caused by God. We have access to the throne, more so than the widow before the unjust ruler, therefore we will be heard. This does not mean we will get our way. Results may vary:
The Cannanite woman in the passage got her request granted, but so did Jacob, who walked with a limp for the rest of his life after striving with God. Paul’s thorn remained and learned that “power made perfect in weakness” was at hand.
Wrestling, with trust, means we can pray, knowing we are heard and loved. That our cries are not breaking up as they hit a ceiling of celestial glass. They make it through, even when laden with swears, because we are loved.
Do we trust that? Do we trust that God knows what He’s doing, and is willing to lovingly engage us when we ask Him what is going on?
Comments
Leave a Reply