Losing a much-loved nephew before he reaches old age and while he still has dependent children has tested the limits of my faith.
It hasn’t helped that the family has been offered, along with the sympathy and willing help, more clichés than anyone needs.
Some are universal comfort-bites: ‘He’s out of pain at last.’ It’s true. His heart was strong and the agony of body, mind and soul could have continued for months more. I can wholeheartedly thank God that it did not.
Other clichés (sadly, offered by Christians, though maybe believed by others too) are more disturbing, such as: ‘He must have had some unforgiven sin in his life.’
We all fall short of the standards of God’s goodness. We wouldn’t need the ultimate sacrifice of Jesus’ life if we were sinless. But Jesus clearly rejected the view that a person’s suffering is a God-sent punishment for sin.
To suggest that someone has cancer because he’s offended God says more about the person making the accusation: Jesus gave the title of ‘the accuser’ to Satan, and I certainly wouldn’t want to be spokesman for him. Only God can judge.
And some other clichés sound true, and are classic responses by Christians and not-sure believers too, but need questioning. ‘He’s gone to a better place,’ is no consolation to Andrew’s wife and children, whom he had no intention of leaving. And, ‘He’s with the Lord now,’ also fudges the truth that he actually always was with the Lord: he was one of the most genuine Christians I’ve known.
So, standing back from the clichéd comforting, is there truly any good news – any gospel – of Jesus Christ, in these heartrending circumstances? Can relentless pain, emotional turmoil, mental confusion and spiritual darkness produce anything of lasting value either in this life or beyond death?
I believe so. I know so. Because, in all the agony, there were glimpses of something else going on, something more like a birth than a death – not only for Andrew but for all the many people connected with him, even people praying for him who never got to meet him.
It’s as though life has shifted to a deeper dimension, both for him – going beyond death – and for the rest of us – still living behind that line.
And for those who were close to him, coming back from that edge-of-the-world looking-out-on-eternity feeling and having to get on with everyday life again, life has changed and deepened. There’s no going back to the way we were, or who we were, before Andrew’s death.
And I can thank God for that.
It hasn’t helped that the family has been offered, along with the sympathy and willing help, more clichés than anyone needs.
Some are universal comfort-bites: ‘He’s out of pain at last.’ It’s true. His heart was strong and the agony of body, mind and soul could have continued for months more. I can wholeheartedly thank God that it did not.
Other clichés (sadly, offered by Christians, though maybe believed by others too) are more disturbing, such as: ‘He must have had some unforgiven sin in his life.’
We all fall short of the standards of God’s goodness. We wouldn’t need the ultimate sacrifice of Jesus’ life if we were sinless. But Jesus clearly rejected the view that a person’s suffering is a God-sent punishment for sin.
To suggest that someone has cancer because he’s offended God says more about the person making the accusation: Jesus gave the title of ‘the accuser’ to Satan, and I certainly wouldn’t want to be spokesman for him. Only God can judge.
And some other clichés sound true, and are classic responses by Christians and not-sure believers too, but need questioning. ‘He’s gone to a better place,’ is no consolation to Andrew’s wife and children, whom he had no intention of leaving. And, ‘He’s with the Lord now,’ also fudges the truth that he actually always was with the Lord: he was one of the most genuine Christians I’ve known.
So, standing back from the clichéd comforting, is there truly any good news – any gospel – of Jesus Christ, in these heartrending circumstances? Can relentless pain, emotional turmoil, mental confusion and spiritual darkness produce anything of lasting value either in this life or beyond death?
I believe so. I know so. Because, in all the agony, there were glimpses of something else going on, something more like a birth than a death – not only for Andrew but for all the many people connected with him, even people praying for him who never got to meet him.
It’s as though life has shifted to a deeper dimension, both for him – going beyond death – and for the rest of us – still living behind that line.
And for those who were close to him, coming back from that edge-of-the-world looking-out-on-eternity feeling and having to get on with everyday life again, life has changed and deepened. There’s no going back to the way we were, or who we were, before Andrew’s death.
And I can thank God for that.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment