Sermon for October 21st, 2012

Job 30:16-31

16 ‘And now my soul is poured out within me;
   days of affliction have taken hold of me.
17 The night racks my bones,
   and the pain that gnaws me takes no rest.
18 With violence he seizes my garment;
   he grasps me by the collar of my tunic.
19 He has cast me into the mire,
   and I have become like dust and ashes.
20 I cry to you and you do not answer me;
   I stand, and you merely look at me.
21 You have turned cruel to me;
   with the might of your hand you persecute me.
22 You lift me up on the wind, you make me ride on it,
   and you toss me about in the roar of the storm.
23 I know that you will bring me to death,
   and to the house appointed for all living.
24 ‘Surely one does not turn against the needy,
   when in disaster they cry for help.
25 Did I not weep for those whose day was hard?
   Was not my soul grieved for the poor?
26 But when I looked for good, evil came;
   and when I waited for light, darkness came.
27 My inward parts are in turmoil, and are never still;
   days of affliction come to meet me.
28 I go about in sunless gloom;
   I stand up in the assembly and cry for help.
29 I am a brother of jackals,
   and a companion of ostriches.
30 My skin turns black and falls from me,
   and my bones burn with heat.
31 My lyre is turned to mourning,
   and my pipe to the voice of those who weep.

It Ain't Fair!

When my grandmother died a few years ago at the age of 76, it was a sad and difficult time for my family, but I don't think I would call it a tragedy. My grandmother had lived an entirely full life; she did everything that she was supposed to do, everything she had wanted to do. She got to see her six children grow up and get married, her grandchildren, and even several great-grandchildren.

When my father died of a massive heart attack at the age of 48, three of his four children were still in high school, and one (me) had just graduated from college two weeks before. I'm grateful my dad got to be there at my graduation from college, but he wasn't at my wedding, and he never got to hold any of my three children. I think he would have been proud to see me standing here today preaching to you.

My dad knew of my sister's dream to someday become a pilot, but he wasn't there to celebrate the day she got accepted into the Air Force Academy, or the day she graduated from pilot training school. He didn't get to walk her down the aisle four years ago, when she got married to another young Air Force Pilot, Mark Jennings. And he wasn't there to hold her and comfort her just one year later when Mark was killed by a runaway car while doing yard work in his front yard. Nine months later, my sister gave birth to Katie, conceived the night before Mark died, and born into a world already minus a father and a grandfather.

The loss of my grandmother was sad, but something we could all wrap our minds around: she had come to the end of a reasonably long life. The loss of my father, and the loss of my brother-in-law, both in the prime of their lives...those were tragedies. Unreasonable tragedies. Inexplicable tragedies. Especially for my sister and her daughter, who lost more than anyone should have to lose in one lifetime.

"Should have to." We all know that tragedy can and does happen to anyone, rich or poor, young or old, Christian or not Christian. It doesn't matter. And yet we have certain expectations about what life "should" hold for us, especially if we feel that we have upheld our end of the deal, if we have been "good" citizens, good church members, and faithful to God. We believe (or want to believe) that God loves us perfectly and unconditionally. We believe (or want to believe) that God is all powerful, in control of everything that happens in the universe. And so when tragedy strikes, we tend to question one of those two pillars of our faith. "God, if you really love me and want what is best for me, how could you let this happen to me?" Maybe God is not as "good" as we thought. Or maybe God loves us, but something prevented Him from helping us in this situation...maybe, then, God is not as "powerful" as we thought.

When my father died, some well-intentioned person came up to me at the funeral service and said: "This is all part of God's plan. We can't see it now, but somehow this will all work out for the best." I wanted to punch that person in the face. You mean God wanted my Dad to die? What kind of God is that? And is it really all about me? God wanted my Dad to die so that somehow things could work out better for me? Well, that's great for me, but it sure stinks for my Dad! What I didn't realize at the time was that this person was trying desperately to hold onto God's sovereignty, or God's "all-powerful" nature. God is in control. And in the process, that well-meaning person let the other pillar (God's love or goodness) come into question some.

Well, about five minutes later, still at my Dad's funeral, yet another person came up to me and said "This wasn't supposed to happen. God didn't want this to happen -- it's an attack from the enemy!" I didn't want to punch this person in the face, but I was still pretty unimpressed with the answer. That must be a pretty powerful enemy if God's plans are so easily blocked. Or a pretty weak God. What's the point of following a God like that? This second person was trying desperately to hold onto God's benevolence, or perfect goodness and love. And in the process, this time, it was God's sovereignty that was compromised.

Here's a tip in case you ever find yourself on the comforting end of someone's tragedy: He or she may be looking desperately for answers, but unless you are the Creator of the universe and all things, you probably shouldn't try to offer any. It's better just to sit quietly in solidarity and let your presence be the best answer you've got. I don't understand either, but I'm here.