I'm Learning

Since what I consider to be the loss of a brother this February, my heart has grappled with the sovereignty of God. Mr. Witt told me I would - he told me that God would, most certainly, work for my good in this situation, but that that didn't give any assurance for Spendy. No false hand squeezes, or pats on the head. But reality - reality that my favorite boy could be homeless and orphaned on the streets - and God is STILL GOOD.

He will further my faith, our relationship and my love for Him. I panicked - "What if I fail? What if I don't get the lesson? What if I don't realize and I fight too hard against it?" Mr. Witt chuckled, reminded me of my own humanity, a good God, and the lack of a cosmic mess I'm set to wander in begging, like a rat in a maze, for the way out. "He won't waste His lessons on you. He's not a frustrated coach. He's not me."

Mr. Witt's words have come back since. Sometimes I wonder if he was right - what if this whole lesson has been wasted on me? I loved and loved and waited and now I'm losing. So where is the growth to come out of suffering? I feel like I've become a lump here, amongst my knowledge of trials producing faith and perseverance and hope. I've never doubted the goodness or involvement of God - or the reality that His ways are higher than mine - but I've spent listless afternoons doing homework, and trying to gather together my scattered hope, and my plans. I've spent those minutes between 6:00am and 6:08 sleeping my alarm, wishing I didn't have to face the day. I've spent nights crying at the island in the kitchen...

..mostly because I just miss him, and I set him up as a reality to live for.

Losing a baby Haitian boy isn't quite like breaking up, moving away from your friends. It's not right to "get over it" or "move on" or stop loving. No, I'm positive that losing my love for Spendilicious would be sin. I'm convinced that putting a halt on my prayers and my thoughts would be selfish - ignoring reminders of him would be self-centered. I've thought much about love enduring - and what it means to keep loving, even when it hurts.

I've learned about God's goodness being bigger than "It will be fine" or "Spendy will be yours" or "I'm sure we'll see him again." No, God's goodness doesn't promise me that kind of redemption. Rather, He promises that my prayers change things. He promises that He cares for the orphan. And, He promises that He won't quit me.

I've watched the goodness of God this past year. I never thought, watching my baby dance in his spiderman underwear in Port-au-Prince - because he finally got love - that my mother and my father and my brother would join holding and loving and feeding him. I never imagined the hundreds, really, of people that would end up praying.

But He did. He had all of that in mind.

This morning, He is reminding me of His goodness. He is reminding me that, contrary to what I may feel, and the fear that captures my heart, He grieves our loss. He captures my tears. He feels for me. He feels WITH me. Contrary to what my heart tells me, He's not wasting this lesson.

"At last, as we finished breakfast and motioned to the waitress for more coffee, I described my book on disappointment with God. 'Could you tell me about your own disappointment?' I asked. 'What have you learned that might help someone else going through a difficult time?' Douglas was silent for what seemed like a long time. He stroked his peppery gray beard and gazed off beyond my right shoulder. I fleetingly wondered if he was having a mental 'gap.' Finally he said, 'To tell you the truth, Philip, I don't feel any disappointment with God.'

I was startled. Douglas, searingly honest, had always rejected easy formulas like the 'Turn your scars into stars!' testimonials of religious telivision. I waited for him to explain.

'The reason is this. I learned, first through my wife's illness and then especially through the accident, not to confuse God with life. I'm no stoic. I am as upset about what happened to me as anyone could be. I feel free to curse the unfairness of life and to vent all my grief and anger. But I believe God feels the same way about that accident -grieved and angry. I don't blame Him for what happened.'

Douglass continued, 'I have learned to see beyond the physical reality of this world to the spiritual reality. We tend to think, "Life should be fair because God is fair."' But god is not life. And if I confuse God with the physical reality of life - by expecting constant good health, for example - then I set myself up for a crashing disappointment.'" -Philip Yancey Disappointment with God