The Pain We Cause . . . The Pain We Feel . . .

I went out to eat the other night and the people I went with pointed out to me a young lady who was working at the place we were eating. They said that she had recently excitedly married a young man who was a youth minister and worship leader. A short few months later they had asked her how she liked married life and she said that she was getting a divorce. Her husband come home one day and just said that he didn’t want to be married any more. She’d asked if he wanted to try counseling and he said “no”—he just didn’t want to be married anymore. (I will share more about this young lady at the end, but first I want to share some reflections this led me to.)

As I sat there distractedly visiting, I couldn’t get past the pain this young lady must have felt, and been feeling. I found myself watching her as she walked back and forth, and thinking about, and feeling, the pain people who carry the name of Jesus have caused others. I know that I have let down and hurt so many people. In fact, it seems that the longer I go on the more people I disappoint and hurt. As God’s children, trusted by God to carry His image in the world and show the world who He is, we so badly, so often, fall so short, sometimes knowingly, sometimes without any intention. What a tremendous responsibility and privilege we have to guard our actions and words, as what we say and do is not just a reflection of us, but it also reflects on the One whose name we carry.

I also thought about how the flip side of this is when WE are the ones who are hurt or betrayed by ones carrying the name of Jesus. Just as, the longer I go on the more it seems like I hurt and let people down, the longer I go on the more hurts and disappointments I inevitably collect from people who carry Christ’s name and who I have opened my heart to as well in one form or another. When this happens I have a responsibility on the receiving side, as well, to carry the image of Christ faithfully. Just like He forgave those in the act of wounding Him, and reached out in love to those betraying Him, I must choose to reflect His heart and image here as well—and to offer to others the grace and love and forgiveness and gentleness and mercy I so desperately, daily need others to offer me. Again, how I choose to respond when I am the one wounded and betrayed doesn’t just reflect me, but also reflects on the One whose name I carry. I am learning something that I can never afford to forget if I want to faithfully serve and reflect Jesus: When we join the body of Christ we become inseparably linked to Him the head and our brothers and sisters—the rest of the body—and our actions from that moment forward are never, ever, anymore just about us—they always reflect on and affect the Head and the body we are now a part of, linked to, and mutually dependent on.

As I sat there, watching her efficiently go by and work, I found myself thinking about the challenge to not reject or harden our heart toward God because of those carrying His name who aren’t reflecting His image. I wondered what she (and maybe her friends and family as well?) thought about God after having been betrayed by a man of God she trusted her heart with. Unfortunately, the world is filled with people who have rejected God because those representing God have failed to do so correctly. We can argue until we are blue in the face about how this isn’t right and how we shouldn’t judge God by Christians, but the reality is that Christians are the ones Jesus has trusted to represent Him to the world, and they are often the closest encounter a person may have with Christ, and the first step they will take of judging Christ. As someone once said, “Every Christian is the strongest Christian at least one person knows.”

I know that everything I have posted here could be criticized, critiqued, expanded on, and picked apart with a thousand “what ifs”—“What if the person isn’t repentant? What if the person is hurting you? What if the person refuses to look at God and only looks at Christians?” etc. I know that there are a million “what ifs” and caveats to what I have said—and that we could discuss the theology and accuracy of it forever—but, at the most basic, “walking out our faith in a broken world” level where theology and theory and classroom discussion meet real life, there was the simple fact that my heart broke for that young lady who had been so betrayed by a man carrying God’s name and representing God to others. All correct theology and arguments aside—in front of me was a fragile, broken, hurting heart that desperately needed God and His tender love. And isn’t that what Jesus did?—He found His time to teach in the synagogue, but spent most of His time representing the Father’s heart in the lives of everyday people struggling to find love and meaning and healing in a broken, hurting, wounding world.

So, what did I do about it? It wasn’t much, but it was all I had. As I left the restaurant I found a rare moment when the young lady was alone. I told her, “I know it isn’t my business, but I am a pastor and _____ told me what recently happened to you in your marriage. I just wanted to say that I am so sorry. Please don’t reject God because of the people who carry His name. God loves you so very much. Please don’t harden your heart to Him.”

She guardedly thanked me and quickly moved away and back to her work. I don’t know what will happen to her, or whether she will draw closer to God or farther away through this experience. I don’t know if her heart will grow harder or softer through this. I don’t know if she will experience the joy of forgiveness and being set free, or become entangled in the roots of bitterness. I don’t know anything about the future of this young lady, but I do know this—God deeply loves her, He knows and shares the pain of betrayal and tears, and He will always be there for her—and maybe, just maybe, she was brought to my attention so God could use me to tell her that.

The Battle to Not Be Offended at God . . .

I am on our local volunteer fire department as both a firefighter and a chaplain. We fight structure fires, respond to vehicle accidents, fight wildland fires which are our largest threat in this area (the picture shows a fire we trained fighting at the Wildland Fire School in 2007), and respond to medical calls. Because I live on the edge of the response area I don't make nearly as many calls as most of the guys on the department, but between pastoring for 9 years, and being on our fire department for 12 years, I have seen and offered counsel for some really hard things.

Last night some guys from the volunteer fire department I am a member of were on a very hard call involving a young child. Things like this---which every human being inevitably comes face to face with---are a tragic, stark, and all to frequent reminder that in this fallen world we don't win all the battles, and I think it is in times like this that the rubber meets the road in our walk of faith, and in our attitude and expectancy toward God.

I know a man who is filled with joy at the love of God and, who, if he sees less than 15 miracles a week in his ministry, considers it a boring week. Yet, he has a daughter suffering from a horrible disease. What a temptation to become angry and bitter toward God, or to start down the road of not pressing in toward (and expecting) greater and greater victory.

I have met a lady who loves the Lord maybe more than anyone I know and who sees the impossible bow daily in her ministry in Mozambique with blind eyes opening and deaf ears hearing and even the dead rising, and yet has endured tremendous hardship both personally and in her ministry.

A pastor I have heard speak, and whose teachings and walk I admire tremendously, has seen cancer literally fall off of people before his eyes, and yet he lost his dad to an agonizing death from cancer. Another pastor I have heard speak and whose writings I have drawn on tremendously is filled with joy for the Lord despite having lost both a wife and a daughter way too young.

Times like these are such a challenge to our faith. We find ourselves challenged to not be angry or offended at God, or to not blame God for things that are so clearly not seen in Jesus, who was the express image of the Father. We find ourselves challenged to still consider God "good" in a way that simply is good as any child would see and define good. God tells us to pursue good, and avoid bad, so clearly He expects us to know the difference. I feel like sometimes we spend way too much time trying to find a way to call things good that are bad, and trying to pin things on God that are clearly of the devil and a result of a fallen world. God's heart and will have been revealed to us at both ends of the Bible---in the initial creation and the garden, and in the picture of heaven in Revelation. Both are good and free of pain and sickness and sorrow. Jesus even teaches us to pray that the Father's will would be done here, on earth, the way it is done in heaven. In the middle of the Bible, between Genesis and Revelations, comes Jesus who heals all who come to Him, who shows love, who, as Acts 10:38 says, goes about doing good and setting free and healing all who were oppressed by the devil. Then He says, "If you've seen Me, you've seen the Father."

In times like these we find ourselves challenged to maintain an expectancy in any given situation that there will be victory, and that what the world calls impossible will bow. We must remember that our God, our position in Christ, and the heart of the Father have not changed despite the pain we see and feel around us. Finally, in times like these we struggle to not become bitter. We must remember to guard our heart and tongue, to speak from a place of faith, to not dance with thoughts about life, ourselves, God, etc., that don't come from God, and to meditate upon those things lovely and pure and praiseworthy. We have, as our consolation, the model of so many heroes in the Bible who also struggled at times in their battle to stay strong in faith and expectancy. We can see in them that the battles to remain in expectant faith are real, we just can't afford to remain in them for too long. We must fix our eyes on the heart of the Father, and not on what is around us.