Some years ago, a young family died in the crash of their single-engine plane -- a father, mother, and their twelve-year-old daughter, Beth, who was one of my son's classmates and who had performed with my daughter in a little theatre group. The two girls had become good friends. Beth was a gorgeous and vivacious child, one of those who would, as the years progressed, be certain to make many a young man's heart flutter (a process which, I am told, had already begun).
My daughter was particularly devastated by the news. She sobbed and sobbed as the terrible truth sank in. It made no sense to her that something like this could occur. In the middle of her pain, she began to feel angry. Sunday school theology had taught her that God rules this world, which meant that God controls all that happens -- even plane crashes. As she sat on my lap, she lashed out through her tears in a way that only an eight-year-old can: "God is not very polite!"
Later that night, as she lay in her bed and talked with me before saying her prayers, the weeping began again. I tried to explain that even though Beth was no longer here, she was with Jesus -- no crying, no pain, and in a wonderful place. She responded, "God may be happy now, but I'm not!"
"No," I replied, "God is not happy. God did not make the plane crash. God does not do things like that. It was a terrible accident, but now God has picked up the pieces and brought Beth and her mommy and daddy home to heaven."
My daughter was not mollified -- good theology, but cold comfort. She missed her friend.
A little boy in Sunday school prayed fervently, "Dear God, please bless everybody but my brother, Tommy." The teacher replied that God did indeed understand that little brothers are sometimes hard to live with, but that God loved Tommy. "Then he's a mighty funny kind of a God," the little boy said. In our own way and for our own reasons, we might agree. As my daughter expressed it, "God is not very polite!"
My son shared with me at the time that one of the class assignments he and Beth had for English was to keep a journal, and one of the reflections was to deal with those things of which they were afraid. Beth had written that she was afraid of dying young. How ironic!
There are too many ironies in this world for my taste. Bad things happen to good people, and I do not like it. Where is God in all this? As a Christian minister, my immediate reaction is to leap to God's defense (as if God needs my help), but some things are hard to explain away.
What are we to make of all this ... of plane crashes, of terrorist attacks, of disasters and miseries? Christians believe that God is in control of this world. God is in charge of everything! So what is going on?
In a way, it may seem like whistling through the graveyard to continue with that affirmation, just as folks try to comfort friends who have just suffered some tragedy that "All things work together for good." Right. Awful things constantly happen ... holocausts, September 11, ethnic cleansings, millions starving in Africa, and so on and so on and so on. Then how can we continue to preach and teach that a sovereign, loving God is in control with any intellectual or philosophical or even theological integrity?
Dr. Albert Winn, pastor, professor, distinguished church leader, answers the question as well as anyone.1 He notes that at the heart of biblical faith we do not find airtight arguments sealed with a "therefore" -- all is right with the world, therefore, let us have faith; therefore, let us praise God. Rather, at the heart of biblical faith we find things that do not logically follow at all, sealed with a "nevertheless." Much is wrong with the world, the mystery of evil is great, nevertheless let us have faith, nevertheless let us praise God. Perhaps we can better understand the miseries of life if we remember nevertheless.
God is sovereign. God is in control. We continue to preach it and teach it. But the question remains: Are we just whistling through the graveyard? Are we like little children, trying to affirm what we know is not true by tightly closing our eyes and trying to make our dream real by endlessly repeating our hope? Is this a great collective self-deception? Not at all.
When I need a reminder, I look at the calendar. I see the first day of the week and I remember what happened one Sunday so many years ago, that first Easter, the day of resurrection. It was that day that guaranteed for time and all eternity that "the wrong shall fail, the right prevail," and that, yes indeed, all things do work together for good to those who love God.
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1. Albert Curry Winn, A Christian Primer (Louisville: Westminster/John Knox Press, 1990), pp. 79-80.
