No more Sunday School answers.

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A few weeks ago, I sat at the Q Cafe and wrote about how looking at death stirs us to live life. In Madeleine L’Engle’s book The Summer of the Great Grand-mother (which I’m reading right now), she says this:

“I rebel against death, yet I know that it is how I respond to death’s inevitability that is going to make me less or more fully alive.”

Then death came, and a wave of terror engulfed me, because I thought about when I wrote this post, and this post, and the three suicides,  accident,  mistake with an aerosol can, shooting and one stabbing I have encountered in the springs since 8th grade.

and as I flailed around, sometimes letting my frustration and hurt show, I was met with stupid Sunday school answers. You know what Sunday school answers are meant to do? They’re meant to shut you up. Seriously. Sunday School answers are the best way to end a conversation.

Me: I am frustrated at God because I prayed with full belief and assurance of his power, but he didn’t use it.
Person: oh he did, just not how you wanted.
Me: okay thanks.

Me: …so many people have died so young and tragic.
Person: God is in control.
Me: okay thanks.

Me: I just don’t know what to say.
Person: The Holy Spirit will tell you!
Me: okay thanks.

….do you see it? It doesn’t engage conversation, it doesn’t dive into mystery. All it does is remind me of things I believe without exploring the consequences of believing God is who he says he is.

Because here’s the thing. I know that one of my gifts is faith. I just believe, as surely as I believe that gravity is going to keep me on the earth. The existence of God is never a question for me, nor is his omnipotence, wisdom, love, etc. But that sometimes makes it EVEN HARDER. If God is all I believe he is, then you know what happens when I look at all of these tragic deaths?

I get terrified.

TERRIFIED.

Not necessarily of God, though sometimes that is the case. Usually it is because I don’t understand him. Because some of the things I passionately pray for are good. Then people say some stupid thing trying to make my prayers seem not goo. No, praying for healing is good. You know what is good? For someone who is young and senselessly stabbed to miraculously start talking again. That is good. Sunday school answers tell me that only God knows what is good. God knows what is BEST, but I still know good things. Things like people being healed. Because I know God can do that.

But he doesn’t always, and he didn’t this time.

and I need to wrestle with the God whose existence and goodness and power I am not questioning.

You know who didn’t give Sunday school answers? Jesus. People asked him questions and he didn’t Sunday school them. He asked them questions or told them stories, but either way he dove in. He rolled his sleeves up and got his hands dirty with the mud of their questions.

The best and most peaceful response I received was when Hilary reminded me that God’s ways are not ours. Ultimately, I stand on the Lord’s side, buying in to the motive of all he does – to save many souls – but I have to surrender my methods. My peace lies in the WILL of God and my turmoil, pain, frustration and nonunderstanding lies in the WAY of God.

and life.

is too short.

to end those conversations.

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