Mystery

Something floating to the surface of my consciousness this past week or so has been an awareness that how I understand suffering is totally wrong.  If you asked me a million different times if I think suffering is the result of God punishing people in specific ways for specific wrong, I would say no every time.

And yet.

And yet I look for ways to avoid suffering, as if by doing the right things I can somehow skip out.  And I look for ways to help others avoid suffering.  There are times when I literally try to bargain with God on behalf of others, offering him myself in their place.  Which sounds selfless, but is really masking a small view of God's sovereignty.  Yes, I believe that God is compassionate, and that he hurts with us and for us.  But I also believe that he works in ways I don't yet understand, and it is in my arrogance that I assume to forego suffering is what's best for the Kingdom.  In Eugene Peterson's book The Invitation, which I think I could describe as a commentary-of-sorts, I recently read about Job.  Peterson writes that Job comes to the conclusion that suffering is a mystery and God is God.  If you asked me a million different times if I agree with that statement, I would say yes every time.

And yet.

And yet I don't live like that.  The five pages I read about the book of Job have been rolling around in my head and heart all weekend, and slowly but surely, the picture is coming into focus.  Something about that bothered me, and I couldn't quite place my finger on it, until I realized that while I intellectually agree with that conclusion, I balk at actually living it out.

And yet.

And yet I have hope that God can continue the process of transforming my mind, moving me to a place where I can live with the mystery, and live in the mystery, and meet others in the mystery.  I would have said several months ago that two of my deepest desires are to see God's kingdom come and to spare people pain.  But as Earl Smooter says in the classic chick flick Sweet Home Alabama, "You can't ride two horses with one ass, sugarbean."  I'm realizing that I can't always make both of those desires come true, and as painful as it may be, I want to pick God's kingdom come every time, and trust that He'll continue to grow my view of Him to make room for all that mystery and that He'll continue to sustain us in the midst of suffering.