Where Is God?



A street in Tagajo, Miyagi prefecture.

As I read the reports and view the pictures of the tragic loss and suffering in Japan following the earthquake and tsunami along with fear of nuclear danger, I am stunned. To see buildings and vehicles swirling inland on the rushing flood and to know that in the wreckage are hundreds of human bodies is almost incomprehensible.
Where is God? If one is among those who are overwhelmed by the disaster, that might well be the question.

It certainly may feel at such a time of anguish that God has forsaken us. David, the psalmist and “a man after God's own heart,” cried out in his deep distress, “My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me? Why are You so far from helping Me, and from the words of My groaning? O My God, I cry in the daytime, but You do not hear; and in the night season, and am not silent.” (Psalm 22:1, 2) Here was a godly man who did not “deserve” the trauma in his life, but circumstances closed in on him until he felt that he had been abandoned by his God. But he had not been left alone; he would see the light again and feel hope once more.

Even Jesus, being made one of us, suffered that crushing sense of loss. On the Cross, he too cried, “My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?” (Mark 15:34) He had not been left alone either, but would rise again in triumph three days hence. Can it be that this experience of feeling abandoned is not uncommon to the human condition, and that we must wait through it if we would see what is on the other side? May God give me grace, should my turn come, to affirm boldly, “He has not abandoned me.”

MaryMartha

Scripture taken from the New King James Version. Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Photo:  AFP/Kazuhiro Nogi  3/14/11

Seasons of Life

The seasons of life, as full as they are of newness and excitement, bring their own losses. We celebrate graduations and weddings and the births of babies and new jobs and retirements. We love to party hearty! What we sometimes fail to acknowledge—and then it takes us by surprise—is the little bit of ache that often accompanies rejoicing. We are happy certainly, but we also sense the loss of something dear and familiar.

"I wanted to be finished with school—but now what do I do?"

"I truly do want to marry this person, but I'm afraid to give up my freedom."

"We wanted this baby so much, but I liked there being just the two (or the three or more) of us, and I'm really, really tired of getting up at two a.m."

"I like the money I'm making, but the stress is killing me."

"I've looked forward to retirement all these years, and now I feel so useless."

How strange it is that success is mixed with a secret sorrow! In the last three days, two different friends, very dear to me, have announced that they are moving away from this area. Maybe we'll stay in touch, maybe not; life has a way of going on and distance has a way of changing how friendships survive and thrive. So I am glad for the challenges and opportunities and blessings that lie ahead for them, but still . . .

I wonder if there may be a reader who is feeling some of that "secret sorrow" of change. You can just tell yourself, "It is all right to feel a bit confused. I'm okay even if I'm happy and sort of sad at the same time. There's nothing wrong with me; this is part of change and I will get it sorted out."

Some of our griefs may seem foolish, at least to others. A man begins to bald a bit on top, a double chin appears, and suddenly he is threatened. Or a woman passes beyond the childbearing years, or she loses a breast to cancer, and she feels diminished. A person breaks their addiction to alcohol or goes on a medication that helps the brain function properly or becomes an average-sized individual by losing half her body weight—and suddenly, they no longer know who they are! "What a great problem to have!" someone might say. But no, not if you are one experiencing this sort of identity crisis. Be gentle with the person you used to be, kind to the person you are now!

It is not wrong for us to recognize and grieve our losses, whether that makes sense to others or not. If we are acknowledging now, perhaps for the first time in a long while, that there are some sore places in our hearts, then we have started on the path to healing and wholeness.

"The LORD is close to the brokenhearted; he rescues those whose spirits are crushed." (Psalm 34:18)

MaryMartha

Scripture quotation is taken from The Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright © 1996, 2004. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Wheaton, Illinois 60189. United States of America. All rights reserved.

Art from http://www.sxc.hu/

Revenge Doesn't Work

I think it is not by chance that most of the references that speak of revenge in the Bible either state or imply that this is God's business. When He said, "Vengeance is Mine, and retribution," (Deuteronomy 32:35 NASB), He was not just talking about what is best; He was talking about the way things really are. We live in a litigious, pay-back world. We laugh when someone says, "I don't mad—I get even." But very often these actions aren't very satisfying. Victims of horrible crimes or their families find only limited comfort in the apprehension or even the execution of the offender(s). There may be a certain sense of closure after all that can be and should be done has been accomplished, but the loss they have suffered can never be fully repaid.

Last December, Florida police officials announced that a deceased serial killer was responsible for the 1981 abduction and murder of six-year-old Adam Walsh. For twenty-seven years, John and Revé Walsh, the boy's parents, have waited for "closure," but naming the man who was imprisoned on other murder charges and who died twelve years ago, has not provided that relief. "This has helped us close a chapter. No closure," the father said. "It's about justice. It's not about revenge or vigilantism or closure."

The Walshes' personal tragedy fueled intense efforts on their part to aid other missing and abducted children. The murder turned John, a middle-class hotel marketing executive, into one of this country's best-known advocates for missing children. He started the Adam Walsh Child Resource Center and co-founded the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children, which since 1984 has assisted law enforcement with more than 148,160 missing child cases, resulting in the recovery of more than 132,300 children. Beginning in 1988, John Walsh hosted the television show, "America's Most Wanted," which began profiling missing persons, especially children, in 1991. The show says its reports have led to the capture of more than 1000 fugitives. Together the Walshes lobbied for the Missing Children Act which set up an FBI database of missing children. In 2006, President Bush signed the Adam Walsh Child Protection and Safety Act, which, among other things, created more stringent requirements for sex offender registration.

These devastated, heartbroken parents could easily have "drowned" in their flood of anger and grief, but Revé said, "You know, we're destroying ourselves. This is not something that Adam would want." I don't know whether or not Christian faith spurred the Walshes' decision to invest their passion in positive ways, but I do know it was a wise choice. No amount of tormenting grief could restore Adam to them. Savage anger could not bring him back.

Other losses may or may not have the measure of the Walshes' experience; that is not the point. The crux of the matter is leaving it with God. "Dear friends, never take revenge. Leave that to the righteous anger of God. For the Scriptures say, 'I will take revenge; I will pay them back,' says the Lord." (Romans 12:19 NLT) "For we know the one who said, "I will take revenge. I will pay them back.' " (Hebrews 10:30 NLT)

Jesus Himself is our greatest example. "He did not retaliate when he was insulted, nor threaten revenge when he suffered. He left his case in the hands of God, who always judges fairly." (I Peter 2:23 NLT)

MaryMartha
(All rights reserved)

Scripture marked NASB is used with the permission of the Lockman Foundation, www.lockman.org Scripture quotations marked NLT are taken from The Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright © 1996, 2004. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Wheaton, Illinois 60189. United States of America. All rights reserved.

Email: mrymrtha@gmail.com

Bloom Where You Are

About twenty little grape hyacinths are blooming in various places throughout my yard. None of them are in the bed where I planted them two seasons ago. The squirrels took a particular liking to those bulbs, dug them up, and then hid them in scattered spots in the yard. That is where the hyacinths are now blooming. I have to smile at the squirrels' determination to find and store these delicacies; I just wish I could train them to do the transplanting that I have planned!

Sometimes people get "transplanted" too, and the roots we have put deep into our surroundings are suddenly pulled up: a job transfer, a family member who needs care, an educational opportunity far away, a relationship that cannot be furthered long-distance. Transplanting can be figurative as well as literal: a job loss, serious illness, a relationship that ends. It was both in the lives of dear friends of mine who last week quickly moved a thousand miles away to comfort and aid their son who lost half his family in a horrible crime.

Plants and people take awhile to re-establish their growth. That is all right; new roots have to be developed. When that quiet, unseen process has occurred, they can bloom beautifully again, right where they are. It will happen! I take special care of the things I've transplanted myself without the squirrels' help, and I think God takes special care of people who've been "dug up and moved." If you've experienced transplanting, go ahead and bloom where you are!

MaryMartha
(All rights reserved)

Email: mrymrtha@gmail.com

Different--and Unchanged

Everything is different now.
The challenges we met, the joys we shared
When side by side, I now must know alone.
The quiet before your footstep at the door
Goes on and on.
Everything is different since you're gone.

And yet--
There is nothing at all that's changed.
You, O Lord, are still the Rock on which I stand secure.
My hope and peace and joy
Are still steadfast in You.
Though everything surrounding me is different now,
Nothing that is eternal changed.

For my family, especially A.

MaryMartha
(All rights reserved)

Email: mrymrtha@gmail.com

Tears

The mourning clouds hung low beneath
A dull and somber sky
And, weeping, mixed their tears with yours
The day you said good-bye.

“It’s raining now,” somebody said,
And though it so appears,
With angels singing, “Welcome home,”
Some kissed you with their tears.

Know this: The Man of Sorrows feels
The crushing of your loss.
Lift up your head; the drops you feel
Are falling from the Cross.

MaryMartha - For my dear friend
(All rights reserved)

Email: mrymrtha@gmail.com

The Courage to Grieve

One of my blogging friends wrote something a couple of weeks ago that I have been pondering ever since. She used the words, “the courage to grieve,” and I have not been able to escape their personal implication. I have had some significant losses in my lifetime: a marriage, my parents, a brother, a grandbaby, a husband, some dreams. I think I have grieved appropriately in each case—differently, of course, but even today in ways that are still suited to the loss.

What I have not known until recent months is that there are some “deaths” I have not even recognized, let alone suitably grieved. Doing so takes courage, because I have to admit that parts of me were allowed to “die” when I was very young. That is no one’s fault in particular, certainly not my parents’ since the only way they knew to raise me was the way they had been raised. That was fairly uncomplicated: you fed and clothed the children and kept a roof over their heads, you bandaged them if they were bleeding, you saw to it that they learned to work and to read, and you took them with you to Sunday School and worship.

I am very grateful for all I was given; it is no small thing to have raised a big family during the Depression and war years. Given their economic situation, education, and religious culture, my parents certainly provided us with every advantage they knew how to supply. William Hodding Carter, Jr., a prominent journalist in the twentieth century, said, “There are only two lasting bequests we can hope to give our children. One of these is roots; the other, wings.” (Someone has rephrased it a bit to make it memorable as a rhyme: You can give your children but two things, one is roots and the other wings.) My parents gave us impressively strong roots. I felt safe and provided for; we were probably poor, but I didn’t know that! I readily absorbed our cultural and religious values. I learned early to take a lot of responsibility.

While they gave us sturdy roots, they didn’t know anything about giving your children “wings.” I absolutely believe that I was loved, but I never felt that I was valued. I was obedient, smart, and creative, but my mother never said, “I am proud of you.” Photos show a sweet little girl with dark eyes and long curls, but my father never told me, “Honey, you are so pretty.” They did not encourage me to find out how to do what I really love doing. They didn’t help me learn how to make good decisions—and live with the results. They did not give me the freedom to make mistakes or teach me to enjoy my successes.

You must not think this is an indictment against my parents. They did not nurture me well because they did not know how. No one had built self-confidence in them. No one had appreciated and guided them. No one had encouraged them to discover their gifts. No one had helped them find a sense of purpose and a passion for life. I have hesitated a long time to even write these things about them, but I am doing so because there may be some of my readers who will think, “Yes, I know what she’s talking about. I lost something back there too. I am grieving the loss of— “ Maybe innocence. Maybe faith or self-confidence, security or privacy. Maybe enough to eat. Maybe a dozen things. Or only one that really, really matters.

It is not dishonoring to those who brought us up to look honestly at the job they did. Evaluating it does not mean forgetting what we hold precious, but may mean taking a more clear-eyed view. We can be truly thankful (or not) for our heritage, but that does not eliminate the “holes” from those early years—and nearly everybody has them. Few people had a perfect childhood and youth, and so there are many of us who have empty places inside that never were filled up sufficiently. We may try to ignore these places, or scold ourselves for being silly enough to re-visit the distant past. “Those things don’t matter now,” we tell ourselves.

But they do matter. That is one of the reasons why some of us find ourselves so conflicted about who we are presently. We did not know who we were back then. Grieving for something that is missing—either lost or never was—is a way of acknowledging that the long-ago nurture was something valuable and precious to us. That’s why it takes courage to grieve; it says that we are quite vulnerable and not ashamed to admit it. Grieving for these losses in an appropriate way has an amazing power to heal.

So what would be appropriate grieving? Whatever is appropriate for other kinds of losses. Talk to someone. Cry if it makes you feel better. Pound on something (but not people). Keep a journal or write a letter. Read. Rest. Exercise. Sit in the sun. Treat yourself kindly. After awhile my process of grieving has yielded new understanding and new growth toward wholeness. If you need to grieve some early losses, so will yours.

MaryMartha
(All rights reserved)

My thanks to Kimberly George who writes an inter-generational dialogue with another member of the Evangelical and Ecumenical Women’s Caucus, an international organization of women and men who believe that the Bible supports the equality of the sexes. The particular post I refer to is located at: http://eewc.com/72-27/2008/10/15/remembering-grieving-and-the-pursuit-of-wholeness/

Email: mrymrtha@gmail.com

Is It God's Will?

God’s will, what He desires and plans, is huge! In our limited thinking we sometimes confine it to what I do, where I go, what I say, and is God going to be happy with me or not. God’s will is much bigger than that!

During a very tough time in my life, a number of praying friends urged me to “command” the physical and material aspects of the situation to comply with spiritual laws and produce the desired positive outcome. They insisted that the Scripture promises life (three score and ten years), health, prosperity, and so on. These things, they said, are God’s will for us.

Let me state very clearly that I deeply appreciate these friends. Without their prayers and practical ministry, I would not be where I am today. My faith, however, did not look or sound exactly like theirs. I simply could not say to God, “I know this is what You are going to do,” or even “This is what You have to do.” Instead, I prayed over and over, “God, I know You see me and hear me. I trust You. I don’t know what You’re going to do and that scares me, but I trust You and I’m hiding in You as my refuge. Nothing can bring harm to me here. I may suffer hurt or loss, but nothing—nothing—can move me from the shelter of Your wings.” I have a great deal of love and respect for my friends; just because we don’t agree doesn’t mean I don’t love them! Nevertheless, I am unable to conclude that my questions about what God intended to do eventually kept Him from answering as they thought He would.

In this time of crisis, I determined to search the Scripture to find what is distinctly the will of God. We can extrapolate a great many things and decide to call them God’s will, but if the Bible says, “This is the will of God,” then I can be absolutely certain of that being His desire and intention. I discovered that God’s will is not something that happens to us at all; it is something we do. Surprisingly few Scriptures say, “This is God’s will.” What comprises His will is this: living righteously, having a grateful heart, remaining faithful to Christ, spending eternity with Him. It is His pleasure, often, to give us exceptional displays of His love and care—the long life, health, happy relationships, and the plentiful resources we so greatly desire—but His will, His ultimate plan and purpose, is far greater.

Here is what I found:

• God’s will is for you to be holy, so stay away from all sexual sin. (I Thessalonians 4:3)
• Be thankful in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you who belong to Christ Jesus. (I Thessalonians 5:18)
• And this is the will of God, that I [Jesus] should not lose even one of all those he has given me, but that I should raise them up at the last day. For it is my Father’s will that all who see his Son and believe in him should have eternal life.” (John 6:39, 40)

Knowing this has been a great consolation to me. Floods and fire and famine, accident, sickness, and death do not have to be explained as "God's will" or "not God's will." He is searching for those whose hearts and minds are committed to proving that His will is just right for them! “Don’t copy the behavior and customs of this world, but let God transform you into a new person by changing the way you think. Then you will learn to know God’s will for you, which is good and pleasing and perfect.” (Romans 12:2)

MaryMartha
(All rights reserved)

Scripture quotations are taken from The Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright © 1996, 2004. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Wheaton, Illinois 60189. United States of America. All rights reserved.

Email: mrymrtha@gmail.com

Mary and Her Adult Son

One of the difficult things about becoming older is that our children have grown older too! That’s just great if they follow reasonably well the path we had envisioned for them. It can be tough if we see them making decisions that don’t seem wise, or choices that we think are big mistakes. We are not alone. Mary is another Bible woman whose life inspires and instructs me. She had Jesus Himself for a son, but she may have had some of the same adjustment problems we do.

He was only twelve—still her “baby”—when He first seemed to reject her. After worshipping in Jerusalem, she and Joseph had traveled a whole day’s journey toward home when they realized Jesus was not with any of their relatives or acquaintances. They returned to the City and after three days of searching they found Him in the Temple with the teachers, listening to them and asking questions. Did Mary scold as we probably would have? “Jesus! Where have you been? We have been frantic, looking everywhere for you. How could you do this to us?”

“You shouldn’t have worried about me,” Jesus had answered. “Don’t you know that I have to be about my Father’s business?”

His Father’s business? What can so young a lad know of God’s will? True, he is considered a man now, but to suppose that he understands the ways of the Most High? Mary must have wondered . . . And even though He returned to Nazareth with them that very day, and was—as He had always been—an obedient and loving son with obvious endowments of gentleness, wisdom, and the grace of God, perhaps Mary carried in her heart from that time onward the secret knowledge: I will not always be able to hold this son. Someday I will have to learn to trust him to know what God wants for his life. I will have to release him, eventually, to do his Father’s will.

Years later, Mary had attended a wedding of family friends in Cana. Jesus had demonstrated then also where His deepest allegiance lay. Several days into celebrating the young couple’s new life together, the unthinkable happened. The hosts ran out of wine! They were greatly embarrassed, and Mary felt sorry for them in their predicament. She turned to Jesus; surely He would know what to say or do to help their friends. “Son,” she said to Him that day, “they have no wine.”

“Yes, my good woman,” He had answered, respectfully but still not acknowledging Mary as His mother to those around Him. “I know, and I can appreciate your concern. But please don’t ask me for anything just to honor family ties. Let me do what it’s time in God’s plan for me to do.” Mary must have realized: Jesus will do what needs to be done. Not necessarily what a sympathetic onlooker thinks best. Perhaps not even what a mother-heart desires. He will act in accord with the Heavenly Father’s will. I must yield to that. Ah, but it isn’t easy to let go! I am his mother! Surely it’s not wrong to want a few special favors?

And finally, as Jesus was teaching one day in a home, Mary and Jesus’ brothers arrived to visit Him. The place was already packed, and they found they could not even get near Him. So they just stood outside, and sent someone in to call Him. Some in the crowd near Jesus told Him, “Your mother and brothers are outside wanting to see you.”

"Who are my mother and my brothers?" He asked. Then looking at those seated in a circle around Him, He said, "Here are my mother and my brothers! Whoever hears God’s Word and puts it into practice is my brother and sister and mother. Whoever does the will of my Father in heaven is my family."

What must Mary have thought when someone reported to her that Jesus was not responding to her request? How could Jesus disown us, his own family? Is he suddenly too good to associate with us? He is just Jesus, my oldest boy. Why can’t I see him, speak to him, touch him? Why did he—how did he—escape the closest of human ties, that with his own mother?

So here we have Mary’s dilemma, much like our own as our children change quickly from toddlers into teens and then adulthood. We must accept that each of them has to follow God and the yearning in his/her own heart. Every mother loses her sons and daughters, because babies grow up. They marry, they work long hours, they move away to other cities or even other countries. Or sometimes they don’t grow and they die as children; for others, life is cut short at some point. Whatever the case, these sons and daughters loosen the ties that keep them close to their mothers and, one by one, they slip away. All of us have to say “Goodbye.”

Although that centuries-old contraction of “God be with you,” means letting go, it does not mean a final loss. As we hear the Word of God and obey it, we are joined in an added way to our loved ones. On the day Mary learned that Jesus was claiming as family all those who do the Heavenly Father’s will, she must have known that included her. And today it includes us and our families. I may have to let them go, but I will never lose them. As together we hear the Word of God and obey it, we will be joined forever with Jesus in the family which nothing can alter—not distance, not even death. This dear son, this dear daughter, will never be farther away than a heartbeat of submission to God’s will.

MaryMartha
(All rights reserved)

Email: mrymrtha@gmail.com

Where Everybody Knows Your Name

Do you remember that title, the theme song from the 1980s TV sitcom "Cheers"? (by Gary Portnoy and Judy Hart Angelo) The attraction of the described setting is that people just like us are there, “our kind of people.” They know us; probably they accept us and like us.

There are times, however, when it is not enough to be greeted warmly, welcomed into the group, and included in the conversation. It is not enough for the people at work or church or the PTA just to know your name. You are hurting, or disappointed, or afraid. You are suffering physical pain or the loss of something/someone very important to you. You are failing at something you were certain you could do, or someone has failed you. You smile and even laugh, but it almost cracks your face—and it leaves furrows in your heart. The crowd knows your name, but they do not know your story. And you are very alone in the crowd.

I recently read a book called Trauma: The Pain That Stays. It is written by a chaplain who is a trauma specialist, covering major airline crashes, etc. However, he extends the term "trauma" to more than single events, including those negative things that happen over and over again until the sufferer can no longer function as they usually would. He explains that the thoughts and behaviors which seem strange to others are perfectly normal for a person who has experienced the shattering of all their assumptions about "fairness" and "it couldn't happen to me," and so on.

If you have suddenly lost a spouse or a child, a lifelong job, your home or savings, your health or mobility, you will feel not like your “before” self for awhile. That is normal! If you have been repeatedly abused or abandoned or betrayed, you are likely to have trust issues for awhile. That is normal! When you are ready, tell someone your story—probably not the whole crowd, just a trusted friend or two. Think what it will be like then when you go back to the place where everybody knows your name, and you catch the eye of that friend. You’ll know that you’re not all alone.

Perhaps you may be one for whom trauma and “the pain that stays” have not been part of life. Then extend great mercy and understanding to all those who surround you. “Be Kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a great battle.” (variously attributed to Plato and Philo of Alexandria)

MaryMartha
(All rights reserved)

Email: mrymrtha@gmail.com

The Patience of Mrs. Job

I am intrigued by the lives of women in the Bible about whom we know very little. I like to imagine what it must have been like for these women who are our foremothers in faith. Job’s wife is one of them. Many of us are familiar with the story of Job himself, for his patience is legendary. But mostly what we remember about Mrs. Job is that in his terrible time of suffering, she told him, “Why don’t you just give up—curse God and die?” I think there is more to the story than that, for she too must have learned patience.

Job had it all: huge flocks and herds, a great many servants, a family of seven sons and three daughters. And he was a good man too, truly fearing God. He had no early warning when trouble came. It was just a normal day, but in a matter of minutes, one messenger interrupting another, Job learned that he had lost everything: livestock driven away by raiding bands, servants killed, sheepfolds and flocks burned, all his children crushed in a terrible windstorm. Mrs. Job must have heard her husband’s loud wails as he prayed with his face to the ground, “You gave me all I had, O Lord, and, all of a sudden, You have taken it away. I don’t understand, but still I bless Your name. You do all things well.”

And what about Mrs. Job? Calamity had emptied her life too of everything that was dear to her. Probably, since she would be pretty much like us, she was suffocating with heartache and desperately hoping that what Job believed was true. But the trouble wasn’t over. Job was struck with fever and a terrible, festering disease of the skin. He sat in the ashes of the fire pit, scraping the oozing sores with a piece of broken pottery. Seeing this suffering was intolerable for Mrs. Job.

We know, all these centuries later, why all of this was happening because we have the whole story of Satan’s attempt to make Job forsake his faith in God. But Mrs. Job did not know. There seemed to be no reason at all for this suffering other than a capricious, uncaring God. It is then that she decided her husband would be better off to give up on God and die, and so we have her famous discouraging words. I can imagine that Mrs. Job stormed away, angry with God that He should so afflict an undeserving man, angry at Job that he so patiently submitted to the suffering.

Word spread of the sorry spectacle to be seen at the home of Job in Uz. Several acquaintances came from a distance to see him. At first, they sat quietly with Job, sharing his grief. (A wonderful idea!) But one by one, and with a great many words, they began to criticize and rebuke him. Job defended himself, knowing that he was not deserving of God’s wrath. On and on the arguing went with many accusations and denials, long speeches and equally long rebuttals. In his anguish, Job even had words with God! The final insult thrown at Job was, “Don’t expect that the majestic Creator of all the earth is going to respond to your pitiful whimpering, Job. Your pleas are in vain.”

Just then a furious whirlwind descended on them, and at last God spoke to Job. “Where were you when I laid the foundations of the earth?” He asked. He questioned Job thoroughly. “Did you lay the boundaries of the seas? Can you tell where daylight dwells and where is the place of darkness? Who do you think you are?”

“Oh Lord God,” Job answered humbly, “I was wrong to question you, insisting that You had to explain everything to me, that You had to give me reasons for all that has happened in my life. You are God! God! Who did I think I was, calling on you to justify your purposes?”

That wind-tossed night was the turning point in their experience of loss and restoration. Job’s family members gathered around him, and his acquaintances came to visit, bringing words of encouragement and sharing their prosperity. With wise management, Job rebuilt his flocks and herds, and God blessed the latter days more than the beginning, giving Job twice as much as he had before! But it seems that while they lived, God never did give them an explanation for the losses they had suffered, nor could they see why, suddenly, He began answering every prayer. The reasons were not nearly as important as their surrender of the need to have a reason for everything. They waited patiently for the Lord, without knowing.

But the greatest loss was the children. “You are still young,” the other women may have told Mrs. Job. (That’s what unknowing people sometimes say.) “You can have more babies.” They could, of course, and they did. Job did not put his wife away for her unbelieving words, even though he could have as many a man did when his wife displeased him in some way. Seven sons and three daughters were born to them, just as they’d had in the first family. But even with the restoration of their wealth and with the new family, I believe Mrs. Job always felt the loss of the children that were gone.

“How wonderful that God gave you these seven beautiful children after—well, you know, losing the others,” the neighbor women may have said. Yes, it was wonderful, and yes, no doubt they were beautiful. What those well-meaning friends could not see was the awful chasm in Mrs. Job’s heart where the other family had been.

So then, you need never be ashamed of the still-tender places in your life where once there were cruel gashes, just now barely healed. To be sure, God brings wonderful new blessings into our lives after tragedy has taken its toll. Others see the evidence of God’s outpoured love, and they marvel at how especially good He is to you. You don’t need to tell them that your heart still aches. Tell God, and let Him kiss the scars.

MaryMartha
(All rights reserved)

Email: mrymrtha@gmail.com