Faithful Paradox

There were over 1,000 people in attendance at Ezra’s memorial service. Students, faculty, staff, medical providers, friends and strangers from Christian, Atheist, Buddhist, Mormon and Hindu backgrounds; all who heard the Gospel spoken that day. We have heard of people who have come to faith because of Ezra’s story. The truth is, however, as Ezra’s mom, I still wish God would have chosen a different way.

Knowing that God used Ezra’s story to pave the way to heaven for some is an incredible mercy that God has allowed us to see. If I’m honest, as I really consider my own heart, even knowing this does not make the loss of my son feel worth it. As I write that statement, it feels incredibly selfish. I do rejoice in knowing that some have met Jesus because of Ezra’s story, but the reality is that I still grieve and ache with the loss of my child and wish God would have chosen a different way. On this side of eternity, I think I will always feel the tension of seeing good, yet bearing the weight of loss and disappointment.

I guess if I’m honest, what I truly want is to see and experience redemption in a way that makes it all feel worth it; to understand the purpose of pain. Why does God allow what he does?

One of the harder and more discouraging pieces of walking the road of loss is the ongoing search for purpose in the pain; some reason for the suffering. What is God up to? Why did he allow it? What is God wanting me to learn? How could this ever be good?

The longer I walk this road of loss and sorrow, the more I am realizing that it is not actually my job to find purpose in the pain. It is not my role to redeem this story; that is a work that belongs only to Jesus. The truth is, I have at times wrongly believed that in order for a story to be redeemed, I must understand what God is up to.

God allows suffering in our lives for many purposes and there are things we will not understand this side of eternity. In this ongoing search for purpose, I am convinced that much of what God is up to cannot be understood any time soon; maybe not ever on this side of eternity. I am also sure, however, that a purpose we can understand is that when we face loss, our hearts are forced to reconcile: Will I trust God, even when he doesn’t give me what I want? Will I submit to his Kingly authority, even when his purposes and reasoning remain hidden?

As I consider my own heart in answering these questions, I am drawn to considering the life of Joseph in the book of Genesis (Genesis 37-50). Joseph was one who suffered throughout his life. His brothers betrayed him, selling him into slavery. He was slandered, accused of rape, and wrongfully thrown into prison. He then spent years in jail. He felt forgotten. It seemed each time his life started to move in a favorable direction, something came along and knocked him back.

Near the end of his life, with both the help of God’s discernment and a clearer view that hindsight offers, he was able to say with confidence that what others intended for evil, “God meant it for good” (Genesis 50:20). The truth is though, it was a journey for him to reach the point he could profess this. It was a process that spanned decades.

From the point that Joseph’s brothers sold him into slavery until he revealed himself to those same brothers was 22 years. More than two decades passed before Jospeh was able to understand some of what God had for him in all the miseries he endured.

Today, we live in an age of instant gratification and often expect to immediately see the good God has for us in our sorrows. Deeply rooted within our hearts is also often a belief that if we can simply understand what God is doing, then we can trust him. While the practice of looking for what God may be doing can be helpful and even at times good, the truth is we may, like Joseph, only get a glimpse of God’s intended good and it may not be for decades down the road. If our hope lies in understanding, then we will certainly become discouraged. Our hope must lie in trusting the God who has said he can be trusted, even when we cannot begin to understand.

Surrender comes when we realize that the good we can see and understand may not come this side of eternity, or it may take decades to begin to understand. Surrender comes when we are able to profess, “God, I trust you in this darkness, even though I cannot begin to understand what you are up to. I trust you in this sorrow, even though I have no idea what redemption could ever look like.”

And maybe that confession is a piece of the redemption that God has. It is an expression of and growth in trust, faith, and surrender to God’s good and Kingly authority even when we don’t know what he is up to. It’s faith without understanding. It’s humble surrender to God when his ways feel confusing or different than his promises. It’s submitting our intellect to his goodness. It’s laying down our understanding to his character. It’s fighting to believe that because he has promised it, we will see his goodness, even as we hold shattered and broken hearts. The good we understand may never feel like the loss has been worth it, yet there is also an entire realm of good that we cannot yet comprehend and a God who has promised it will be good and he can be trusted.