Help My Unbelief

And straightway the father of the child cried out, and said with tears, Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief.  Mark 9:24


I missed church today.  I hate missing church, but sometimes it can't be helped.  I missed church today because of my Uncle Harold (insists on Chinese restaurants), but as luck would have it, same Uncle Harold had sent me a recording of a sermon he had preached some time ago.  So my sermon part of Sunday was in some way fulfilled, and it's kinda funny - the sermon was timely, although I must say, I found it moving, and in some ways infuriating.  But then, that's the problem isn't it...

Here's the deal:  Today is Valentine's Day, so I spent a little time thinking about love today.  I thought about familial love, romantic love, the love of my friends and the love of God.  To be sure God's love kinda outweighs all the other loves for many and various reasons.  I guess in this forum we can simply stipulate that.  Love is nice isn't it?  I mean, even an old ogre like me gets a little love.  BUT...(you had to know that was coming)

When I saw my daughter the other day, I couldn't help but wonder...where is the love of God in this?  Ashley's one of those people who love God.  She was not one to sit around wondering about His existence, there was never that whining about what is real, what is truth - none of that.  But yet...there she is struggling with the simplest thought.  And you know what sucks?  I do.

If you look back in this blog, even just a few weeks ago, you'll see that I prayed (along with hundreds of others) that Ashley would live.  I wrote about how science and medicine were at an end, and only God remained.  And God delivered.  Ashley is alive, her body strengthens by the day, and hope remains for her mind.  But what is my first inclination?  To question God.

I still don't totally buy into that whole 'God is in control' and 'all things work together for good...' stuff, but for crying out loud!  I was shown a glimpse of faith.  I was given an opportunity to sense even a mere essence of the Christ; then the first thing I do, when I see the suffering of one so dear to me - I wonder where is God's love.  And this is not new to me.  I thought the same thing when I saw that guy sleeping on the bench down at the Corning Preserve again just last week.  I see struggling and hurt and sorrow and my first inclination is to blame God.  Can you imagine the nerve of me, to blame God?

But I do like what Uncle Harold had to say in his sermon.  After some pretty good exegesis, Harold closed his sermon with, to me, a very profound and honest statement...we may not know why bad things happen to good people, whatever the reason it's okay, it'll all make sense over there..."

To be honest, the "why" of suffering has never troubled me all that much.  The fact of suffering wounds me to the core.   Whatever the reason for Ashley's suffering, whatever the reason for the suffering of that guy at the Corning Preserve, whatever the reason for the suffering of countless millions around the world, my prayer right now is two-fold:

"Lord, may Harold be right, over there may it all be okay and in the meantime...please help my unbelief."