"I hasten to give back my entrance ticket."

In today's She Reads Truth, we read about Exodus and how that is all part of God's plan and that Exodus points us to Christ and his redemption. I can believe all of that on a macro level, but when I think about the micro level, I get all kinds of sad and angry. I imagine what my faith would have been like as a slave in Egypt, praying for deliverance and then realizing I would die before deliverance came. Or if I was a mother in Egypt whose baby boy was murdered while Moses grew up- miraculously delivered from death by God. Why not my son? Why did God let my child die? 

I recognize that these are all different ways of wrestling with the question "why/ how can God allow suffering?" I think it's good to wrestle with it from a lot of different angles. It creates empathy and openness to learn. 

Part of our reading from yesterday's She Reads Truth was from Genesis 3:16-19:

To the woman he said,

“I will surely multiply your pain in childbearing;

iin pain you shall bring forth children.

jYour desire shall be contrary to6 your husband,

but he shall krule over you.”

17 And to Adam he said,

“Because you have listened to the voice of your wife

and have eaten of the tree

lof which I commanded you,

‘You shall not eat of it,’

mcursed is the ground because of you;

nin pain you shall eat of it all the days of your life;

18  thorns and thistles it shall bring forth for you;

and you shall eat the plants of the field.

19  By the sweat of your face

you shall eat bread,

till you return to the ground,

for out of it you were taken;

ofor you are dust,

and pto dust you shall return.”

Reading this curse brings grief and sadness and longing, and yes, anger, into my heart. 

Thinking about those poor murdered babies, and the ones later- when Christ comes and Herod kills the babies in Bethlehem, I am often reminded of Ivan Karamazov's conversation with Alyosha in The Brothers Karamazov. I highly recommend reading the whole chapter and the next- they are powerful.  (or just read the whole thing). In this chapter, Ivan, an "atheist" recounts multiple anecdotes of people torturing or abusing children. He says:

"Can you understand why a little creature, who can't even understand what's done to her, should beat her little aching heart with her tiny fist in the dark and the cold, and weep her meek unresentful tears to dear, kind God to protect her? Do you understand that, friend and brother, you pious and humble novice? Do you understand why this infamy must be and is permitted? Without it, I am told, man could not have existed on earth, for he could not have known good and evil. Why should he know that diabolical good and evil when it costs so much? Why, the whole world of knowledge is not worth that child's prayer to ‘dear, kind God’! I say nothing of the sufferings of grown-up people, they have eaten the apple, damn them, and the devil take them all! But these little ones! I am making you suffer, Alyosha, you are not yourself. I'll leave off if you like.” 

“Never mind. I want to suffer too,” muttered Alyosha." . . . 

". . . too high a price is asked for harmony; it's beyond our means to pay so much to enter on it. And so I hasten to give back my entrance ticket, and if I am an honest man I am bound to give it back as soon as possible. And that I am doing. It's not God that I don't accept, Alyosha, only I most respectfully return Him the ticket.” 

“That's rebellion,” murmured Alyosha, looking down 

“Rebellion? I am sorry you call it that,” said Ivan earnestly. “One can hardly live in rebellion, and I want to live. Tell me yourself, I challenge you—answer. Imagine that you are creating a fabric of human destiny with the object of making men happy in the end, giving them peace and rest at last, but that it was essential and inevitable to torture to death only one tiny creature—that baby beating its breast with its fist, for instance—and to found that edifice on its unavenged tears, would you consent to be the architect on those conditions? Tell me, and tell the truth.” “No, I wouldn't consent,” said Alyosha softly. “And can you admit the idea that men for whom you are building it would agree to accept their happiness on the foundation of the unexpiated blood of a little victim? And accepting it would [270] remain happy for ever?” 

“No, I can't admit it. Brother,” said Alyosha suddenly, with flashing eyes, “you said just now, is there a being in the whole world who would have the right to forgive and could forgive? But there is a Being and He can forgive everything, all and for all, because He gave His innocent blood for all and everything. You have forgotten Him, and on Him is built the edifice, and it is to Him they cry aloud, ‘Thou art just, O Lord, for Thy ways are revealed!’ ” 

“Ah! the One without sin and His blood! No, I have not forgotten Him; on the contrary I've been wondering all the time how it was you did not bring Him in before, for usually all arguments on your side put Him in the foreground. Do you know, Alyosha—don't laugh! I made a poem about a year ago. If you can waste another ten minutes on me, I'll tell it to you.” (from Brother's Karamazov, "Rebellion" Book V. Chapter IV). 

The story continues, but I find the same question in my heart as Ivan poses: how could I choose to let even one child suffer, as millions have, to save the whole world? How could God choose that? I think part of the answer is that Christ can choose that because He was willing to suffer and die, and in doing so, saved the whole world. It still does not make sense to me, and I do not understand why God has allowed it to be so, but I trust that there is a wisdom there that I do not understand. I also think that I have a lot to learn about how God redeems suffering. By my math, nothing can redeem some kinds of suffering, but I'm not very good at math. ;) 

At the same time, I believe that I am right to be angry at the suffering of the innocent. I believe that God is angry about injustice and that He will avenge it. 

Reflections on Jonah 1 and 2

I'm reading the She Reads Truth study on the minor prophets.
Today, I'm in Jonah, and it's so rich, I thought I'd type it up here to share.

First, I'm impressed by how much Jonah does to avoid doing God's will, and then to confess! In the boat, they have to wake him, tell him to pray because they're all going to die. He doesn't say "oh yeah, that's God trying to get my attention" and they have to throw all the cargo overboard and eventually cast lots. Finally, when the lot is cast on him, he confesses that he's running away from God and that they should just throw him overboard.

Then, these sailors work hard to save him by trying to row to shore! I'm so impressed by the faith of the sailors- they pray, they ask questions, and then they risk their lives and put their skin in the game to try to keep Jonah alive. When they realize that Jonah is right, they pray and ask God to forgive them for throwing Jonah overboard (to what they assume is his death). That's pretty amazing to me.

Second, and everyone points this out- God pursues Jonah. In the She Reads Truth study it says "God's pursuit is relentless exactly because He is so loving. . . God wanted Jonah. Good, isn't that amazing? I sometimes feel like I'm a substandard version of the person who should actually be living my life. . . But despite my imperfections and failings. . . God gives specific callings to specific people (Ephesians 2:10). That means God wants me for my particular calling and life."

http://shereadstruth.com/2017/10/17/jonahs-call/

From Jonah chapter 2, I was struck by the fact that Jonah waits 3 days and nights in the fish's belly before crying out to God. Was he still pouting in there? Refusing to ask for help since that would mean having to obey?

Sometimes I feel guilty when I ask God for help and comfort if I haven't been diligent in Bible Study or prayer/ meditation/ communion with Him (so, almost always). But Jonah says "I am cast out of they holy temple, yet I will look again toward they holy temple" (2:4) and "When my sould fainted within me, I remembered the Lord: and my prayer came in unto they holy temple" (2:6) Jonah didn't remember God UNTIL his soul fainted! And "the Lord spake unto the fish, and it vomited out Jonah upon the dry land!

Why? Why did God listen to Jonah? "For thou, Lord, art good, and ready to forgive; and plenteous in mercy unto all them that call upon thee." Psalm 86:5 God listens to Jonah, and to me, because of who HE is, not because I am ever good enough or diligent enough to attract His attention and care. That is so comforting and relieving to me!

"Let us therefore come boldly unto the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy, and find grace to help in time of need." (Heberew 4:16). Amen! I can not let guilt or fear keep me from asking God for help.

Here are some excerpts from today's reading that I feel like are relevant to my previous post about miscarriage:

"I bet if Jonah had know beforehand that he would get swallowed by a fish, he never would have stepped foot on that boat. Many of the places God brings us to are ones we would never choose for ourselves. But that is the point: when we stop trying to find ourselves, we can see that we've already been found.

"Pastor and auther A.W. Tozer said, 'In every generation, the people who have found God have been those who have come to the end of themselves. Recognizing their hopelessness, they have been ready to throw themselves on the mercy and grace of a forgiving God.' ***

"Of course we don't want to walk through storms and sit in darkness and sleep in the underbelly. But what if we remembered these are the places where grace usually meets us? Sometimes grace is messy and dark. Sometimes mercy is painful and scary. God does not need perfect circumstances to bring us closer to HIm. In face, it's usually the opposite.

"Let's not overlook that Jonah thanks God for raising his life from the pit while he is still in it. May we do the same today, allowing grace to meet us and mercy to surprise us. We can trust that even as we cry out to God in our distress, He is faithfuul to answer our call. (Jonah 2:2). Thanks be to God"

http://shereadstruth.com/2017/10/18/jonahs-prayer-2/

(In retrospect, maybe I should have just posted the whole blog, lol).

*** I, Gloria, used to hate this quote, because I didn't feel like I'd ever been brought to the end of myself, so I felt kindof disqualified from considering myself a good Christian, and because I really, really wanted there to be a short cut to avoid being brought to the end of myself. Like, couldn't I maybe just turn to God and ask for help before I ran out of strength? I think that's always a good thing to do, but I see now that being totally helpless digs deeper into the soul.

Walking with a Limp

Last year at a Super Bowl party is when I first started bleeding a little bit. It would take a couple of days to become a full blown miscarriage and medical emergency, but I remember very clearly that I started to feel sick and almost instantly tired at this party and noticed some bleeding. 

I've heard people talk about our bodies carrying memories. I've been curious to look up the actual date of the miscarriage because I honestly don't remember, but tonight, all the talk about the Superbowl is what triggered the emotions for me. 

It's been a year. It's been a long year. And surprising to me, I needed the reminder that it's only been a year. I need to have grace for myself and the healing that I still need to do. I need to give myself space to work out within myself how I feel about wanting or having more children. Or about not wanting or having more children. Or even the what if of those two getting crossed- wanting more children and not having them and not wanting more children and then getting pregnant. I don't have answers for all of that, and in its own way, that is an answer. I don't have to know. What I do know is that I never want to say "I just" or "only" have two children. Contentment and gratitude have been guiding stars for me through some very dark times this year. 

As I have processed various parts of what I consider the trauma of my miscarriage experience in the ER, I have thought often of the story of Jacob, when he wrestles with God. He will not let God (in the form of a man) go. So God touches the socket of his hip so that his hip was wrenched, and, I presume, he walks the rest of his life with a limp. That is strangely comforting to me. I feel like I will walk the rest of my life with a limp, and I have a feeling this experience will not be my only injury.

I think we hear a lot of rhetoric about how hardships make us stronger. How God uses them to perfect us. Or the good old "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger." Practically biblical, that one. I even put it in my blog about this- that I trusted God to make me stronger or to grow me through this. I'm not sure I believe that anymore. 

The summer after the miscarriage I experience what I believe was postpartum depression "light," which I did not address. In September, I experienced severe anxiety about medical interventions (blood draws/ ivs) or other emergencies, complete with full blown physical symptoms of nausea, partial paralysis while I was trying to sleep, and insomnia. Thankfully, miraculously, the symptoms, which I fully believed at the time were going to be eternal, lifted, and I was able to get some treatment for PTSD. I've also reflected on Job. I think I can handle some kinds of "affliction" better than others, and physical pain and mental health struggles are probably the two I've feared the most. Actually, that's not true- I feared physical pain, but until this year, I've never actually feared mental health struggles. I didn't think they would touch me. I didn't know to fear them because I didn't understand them. I pridefully thought that I was immune from them. *shakes head*. Even now, I'm grateful that my struggles were short lived. I can't imagine dealing with chronic pain or depression. 

This past year has forced me to consider that I may not get stronger. I couldn't/ can't self-will my way out of all that mess like I've done with other difficulties in my life. These fears and anxieties and physical reactions are not something that I can harness to become a better person. I can't "get over" them. And, my favorite, I can't "face them and conquer them" as I have tried to do with some of my other fears (rock climbing to overcome fear of heights etc). In fact, ALL of my fears feel magnified to where I'm not even sure that I could handle rappelling or mountaineering. I might turn into a nervous wreck. I hope one day to return to those activities. Whether I can or not, I'm aware that I may always struggle when I need medical care. That I may always fear a trip to the ER. That I may never be as strong in my faith and in my confidence as I once was. I certainly do not have the ability to heal myself or make myself stronger. 

Perhaps God doesn't want me to be stronger. Perhaps He wants me to realize how incredibly powerless and insignificant I am; one not-even-that-great-of-a-human in an ocean of humans on one tiny, struggling planet in an unfathomably vast universe. I'm not even saying that was it- that learning how weak I am was "the lesson." Maybe there isn't a lesson. Or maybe I don't need to know what the lesson is. But what I do know is that God does know and care for me. He is with me. And while that may not carry all the assurances that I would like for it to, I realize that I have to choose for that to be enough even when it really, really doesn't feel like it.

I have learned that God provides tools for us to use in difficult times, and that I can avail myself of those whenever I need to- there is no shame in asking for help and using tools to help myself. I'm grateful for that lesson. 

 So, my faith has been wounded. It's limping. And I think God's okay with that. After all, Israel himself walked with a God-inflicted limp.

*I want to add that I did have great support through Ben and through my friends when I told them what I was experiencing.