Compensation and The Probem of Evil

 

There is much debate about why God has allowed such evil to exist.  Many great thinkers have sought to search out the answer to the problem of pain and suffering.  I have found no significant satisfaction to this issue apart from believing in a good and loving God who is ultimately sovereign over all that happens here.  All other words leave me in despair.

In this life it is difficult to see the real answer.  If this life is all that we have then we are indeed to be most pitied.  On this side of eternity there is no balm that can competely heal the broken hearted…the scars always remain.  Is there real justice for the one who has been raped, or the parent whose child was murdered or killed by a drunk driver?  How about the injustice of so many children dying in poverty around the world…is there any words of comfort?  What do you say to a parent whose child has committed suicide or has run away from home?  How about the people who lost homes and everything they owned in natural disasters of flood and fire…is there some hope offered them of a better future?  And then there are all the issues raised by such an unspeakable horrors as the holocaust and other stories of ethnic cleansing.  Can any of us answer give a satsifying answer without taking into account eternity?

 

Happy Birthday, My Son

When a parent loses a child certain days unleash new waves of grief.  For the first few years birthdays are especially difficult, but often it gets easier as the years go by.  This poem was written about three years after our son died when the grief was still raw.  It reveals the broken heart of a mother. 

 

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SAM

 

Happy Birthday, my son,

Of what age are you now?

At twelve you were taken,

Almost three years ago

That makes you ‘bout fifteen

Or has God made you old?

 ***

How do you look,

His glory clothes now you wear,

Are there whiskers on your face,

Do you sniffle and sneeze?

Have you grown many inches

In stature do you stand tall?  

*** 

Do you remember your mom,

Her loving embrace to feel?

Does He tell you of my tears,

Or does His joy blinding you

Now forget all earthly woes?

*** 

When I get there, will glory

Cover the great loss I bear,

Or does pain of memory

Cling to eternities robe

Some spot time cannot remove?

*** 

How can I send gifts to you,

My son, how shall I wrap it. 

Now that you have everything,

Need you still tokens of love?

Who will blow out your candles,

May I make your birthday wish?

*** 

Do angels wrestle with you,

Faking weak to show you strong

You once loved to pin me down

Counting to ten, marking air

So the world would then know,

For one brief moment, your strength

Has now overcome your mom

 

Surrender

 

Right now I am at my dear friend’s house sitting in one of those stuffed recliners with my feet up.  Some of you might know my friend as www.Bonya.wordpress.com…she is the one who inspired me to blog.  Of course, I am not a very good student of hers as I am not as prolific in my writing as she is.  Bonnie manages to write every day and has done so well that she has been asked to write professionally now!

We are in the middle of our most intense two week travel stint where we will have traveled to five cities, boarded nine planes and slept in six different places, not counting the little cat naps on the plane.  At the beginning of this trip I fumed over having to leave my grandchildren so soon after returning from Israel.  We were not on very good speaking terms…that is, God and I.  When this happens I know that it can’t last for long or else I might as well go home and go back to bed.  After all, what fruit is there if I try to minister to people God’s love when I am having a pity party.  Every time the way out is the same…I yield my will and surrender to drinking the cup he has given me drink.  My weakness is only turned to strength when I give up my right to comfort, pleasure, etc. in this life and opt for those unseen treasures that are being deposited in some far off bank.  In return I receive strength and even joy…a more than fair exchange for my weakness and despair!  After all, wasn’t it I who has cried out on numerous occasions that I would bare much fruit?  And bearing the kind of fruit that will last requires me to stay connected to God’s plans and purposes for me.  Yes, it is indeed a privilege to serve God and to know that I am not in control.  A surrendered life enables a person to carry such awesome glory in such weak earthen vessels.   So, once again I declare, “Not my will, but yours be done.”

 

Duct Tape and Hormones

                                           

For years I hadn’t put on rubber gloves when I would use strong household detergents to do my cleaning.  Nice hands just wasn’t something I was concerned about.  Who would have believed that all those strong chemicals could be absorbed into the skin and cause problems.  Now I wear gloves!

Recently I have succumbed to taking bio-identical hormones, and guess what, some of them get absorbed through the skin!  Who would have dreamed that this was possible….at least fifty plus years ago it was furthest from my thoughts that stuff can be absorbed through the skin.  Now, I am not writing this to push hormones but to give an analogy to help understand the bonding that takes place in relationships. 

The most intimate relationship is probably the one between a mother and her child.  I bet you thought I was going to say husband and wife!  However, as I have contemplated this many times and have gone through the heart wrenching experience of losing a son, I have come to the conclusion that a mother/child relationship trumps the husband/wife relationship (at least, this is my conclusion today but tomorrow I might argue the opposite view).  Why do I say this?  A mother carries the child within her womb for nine months.  You can’t get more intimate than this.  And then, as many mothers do, I nursed my babies and imparted my life to them even after they were born.  If you have been following my blogs you will understand that I am hammering this issue again and again…that of intimacy!  And how do we attain to intimacy?  By sharing our lives with one another…”you in me and me in you.”  So, it stands to reason that there is great closeness between a mother and child as that child was in her.

 

Feasting

 

Last night we once again had a full table for our Erev Shabbat (Friday night) meal.  How I love it when the young people come over to our house and decorate our house with their presence.  I just sit there most of the meal and watch and listen as so much laughter and chatter fills the air.  Dan sits at one end and I at the other…then there are five sitting on each side of the table…twelve in all!  Dan becomes animated as he unpacks the latest current events or banters around the answers to some of the difficult theological issues that the young people raise.  Usually the guys sit near Dan and the gals near me as often the conversations at either end is different.  However, sometimes there are a few crossovers amongst the gals who love the stimulating conversations at the other end of the table so by the end of the evening they have maneuvered their chairs amongst the men.

I love Shabbat.  There is nothing like celebrating this feast in Israel as the whole country revolves around this day…both the secular and the religious!  On Friday our household (as well as every other household) is busy cleaning while I am out braving the crowds of last minute shoppers.  There seems to be always something that has been overlooked in my earlier shopping sprees. During the winter months the stores close early on Friday afternoon and they remain closed until after dark on Saturday.   That is why the malls are such mad houses.

 

Hope Born

 

One of the big challenges a grieving parent faces involves keeping hope alive.  I have tasted the difference between grieving with hope and grieving without hope.  How true the Word is that says that we are not like those who grieve without hope as if we grieve without the knowledge of the hope of resurrection.  Without the hope of an afterlife we enter into a bottomless pit of despair.  I do not think I would survive without hope.  Truly it keeps me afloat.  On a couple of different occasions I let hopelessness in and my grieving took on a downward spiral that was violent and destructive.  It was as if I was swallowed up by fear and dread.

Suffering can press us into God as a matter of survival.  And, if it is the suffering of the loss of a loved one, we are talking about months or years of weakness.  And when we press into God for strength over a long period of time we take on the nature of God and are filled once again with hope.  I often illustrate this by showing people what happens when you grab hold of a rough object in your hand and squeeze it over a period of a few minutes.  When you release your hold there is an imprint of the object remaining in the palm of your hand.  The longer the embrace, the deeper and more lasting the impression.  So, our soul gets imprinted by eternity through perseverence.   God’s hope, faith and love becomes infused inside of us.

The following poem was written a couple of years after our son died.

 

 

HOPE BORN

 

Oh hope, not yet born

Does your heart still beat

Your strength ‘bout forlorn

Do I feel your feet?

 

A Sono does tell

You’re not yet dead

But vitals not well

Hope has gone to bed

 

“Wake up,” the bells ring

“Stay there, you’ll turn cold.

Try, make your self sing,

You can do it, be bold.”

 

New food will restore

Take, eat, new life brings

Then when done, eat s’more

It’s nosh fit for kings

 

Now drink cool water

Revives the waned will

Courage won’t falter

You’ll have “nuff” to fill

 

In pain, hope is birthed

Hold not back, it’s time

With joy round me girthed

Push, I hear the chime

 

Angels have waited

New glory behold

God’s Son, joy sated

Faith has come forth gold

 

 

What’s in a Hug

 

 

Have you ever heard of the ministry of giving hugs?  I believe that there is such a gift, and it seems like little children are the ones that practice it the best.  At least, those who have not yet learned that the world is a fearful place.  Children can hug with abandonment in their simple child-like trust.  How much we as parents want to protect that.  My husband and I remark often how we wish that our grandchildren would remain between the ages of one and six as this is the age when they run with such glee and freedom into our arms.  Something usually happens when they get older, but there are some exceptions.  We are thankful that our children have retained their hugging expertise even into their adult years!  When our two boys were in their teens they never went through a stage where they no longer felt it cool to hug mom and dad.  So, it is possible to retain this gift even into adulthood.  I think that there would be a lot less mental and physical illness around if each of us adults would have a few young children around (or those who are still child-like at heart) that could minister a few of their extravagant hugs and kisses each day.  Then our love tanks would be filled up and our endomorphisms would be in full operation. 

 

Why does it Hurt so Much? (a short story)

 

 

            The emergency room of the hospital bustled with too much activity.  The noise and confusion seemed too intense for so early on this Sunday morning.  Huddled into a corner sat a young mother and father.  They were sitting facing each other with heads bowed and hands grasped tightly together.  The parents were visibly upset and they looked like they needed treatment themselves.  Both had dried blood on their faces and cuts and bruises on their arms.  One could not mistake the reason for their consternation…they were facing death.  A few hours ago they were happily on their way back from visiting her parents.  The weather forecaster never mentioned the prospect of freezing rain.  Why didn’t anyone know and warn the holiday travelers?  Maybe they could have avoided traveling home last night and instead left that morning.  But the speculation was futile.  The unavoidable happened.  Their car skidded out of control and flipped over several times before coming to a stop.  All of them were thrown out of the car even though they all had seat belts on.  How could this possibly be?  Slowly the man and woman found each other and were so relieved that neither of them was seriously hurt.  But, where was their son.  Frantically they searched the ground near the road.  It was so dark along that country lane.  Then they heard a

 

Can I Trust?

 

 

When our youngest son, Samuel, was one-years-old he had been hospitalized with viral endocarditis.  He was not expected to live as his heart was so greatly enlarged that its walls were “paper thin.”  However, through the grace of God, he was miraculously healed and was released from the hospital after a week.  The doctor’s were shocked and perplexed.  How could this baby’s heart show no improvement and yet the child be acting like any normal child of his age?

 The practice in this children’s hospital at that time was to encourage the parents to go home…and so that was what we did.  Little did I know that even though Samuel appeared “out of it,” he was fully aware that “Mom” was not present.  In fact, he saw that when Mom was there that she allowed the doctor’s to hurt him and to tie him down.  It was my fault according to him.  And then, when he was sent home, I was given four different kinds of medicines that had to be forced down my baby’s throat three or four times a day.  This was traumatic, to say the least, for both child and mother.  These events affected Samuel all his life and it wasn’t until later, when he was eleven, that I was able to get him in touch with the anger deep within him that had become rooted during this season of suffering.

 

Extravagant Love (a short story)

                                                                                  

A strong young man stood by a gold gilded table pouring over some parchments.  He seemed deep in thought as he glanced back and forth from the table to something outside his palace window.  “Everything seems to match up perfectly with the plans my father gave me,” the King thought.  He could remember that day years ago when his father excitedly told him what was in his heart.  In fact he could see his father standing by this very table with him by his side and could hear him speaking those words that became permanently etched in his mind.  “Solomon, I am old now and soon to pass on the way of all those before me.  For all my life I have served my God faithfully and wholeheartedly.  I had in on my heart to build him a temple, a permanent resting place where he could live among his people forever.  For hundreds of years my God has dwelt in a tent and his presence has led my people all these years.  But now that I have found a home it seemed fitting that my God would have a place where he could dwell forever.  Yet, God said that I had shed too much blood and had been a man of war.  It would not be right that I should build him a house so he has chosen you, my son, a man of peace, to build him a temple.