In God We Trust
"In God We Trust." Those four words are engraved on every piece of U.S. currency. While for most people, that's just a nice little slogan, for those of us who are Believers, those words are supposed to be engraved in our hearts--and they're supposed to mean something. Well, lately I've been wondering what we mean when we say we trust God? What do we trust Him to do? Is it really Him that we trust, or is our faith actually in something else--like maybe those useful little pieces of green paper with the words "In God We Trust" written on them.
A couple of things have gotten me thinking about these questions recently. For one thing, Elijah's birth is coming up in just a few months and I'm finding my outlook on the world is changing pretty radically. Not long ago, I read an article online about how when you have kids you start thinking about things like global warming and nuclear warfare because you worry about what kind of world your kid will grow up in. I totally get that now. Lately, it seems like the world has been rocked by disaster after disaster--the cyclone in Burma, the earthquake in China, tornadoes, floods, and fires in the United States. Food and oil is running low while their prices are skyrocketing worldwide. Even right here at home, Saipan sometimes seems on the brink of implosion with the increasing instablity of our power grid and the continued free fall of our local economy. It makes me wonder what kind of life my child will inherit.
Also, many of our friends have departed Saipan in recent weeks and we don't know when--or, God forbid, if--we will see them again. Suddenly, in their absence from our everyday lives the Pacific Ocean seems awfully huge, the distance between us all, vast. My mind has wandered to the many, myraid tragedies big and small that could befall any of us at any time and make these recent goodbyes permanent ones.
And finally, I'm sure it doesn't help that I'm currently working on a novel that imagines a worldwide failure of every kind of electrical and fuel-powered device--the entire planet flung 200 years back into the past. My story is set here in Saipan, and of necessity, I've had to imagine every implication of such a disaster on a little island like this. It's a little scary, actually.
In short, I've been reminded of how fragile this precious thing we call life really is.
And I've wondered: What do we mean when we say we trust God? Often, I think we often mean we trust God to keep us safe. But what happens when He doesn't? And let's be honest--He doesn't always. Is it really God we trust or is our faith is actually built on regular electricity, fully-stocked stores, and money in our pockets. What happens when these security blankets are stripped away--as they have been for many in Iowa and China and Burma? What happens when the God we put our faith in seems to let us drop? About two weeks ago my friend and fellow church elder Paulo Restauro's mother died. She was only 53 years old, in an accident, and was in the hospital for several days. Paulo was certain that God would heal her. His faith was being put to the test and he was rising to the challenge. And then, just like that, he lost her. I've watched his faith sway under the weight of his grief. He seems to be shouldering the burden well, all things considered, but I know it's been hard for him (especially since immigration issues made impossible for him to fly back to the Philippines for her funeral). His faith has been pummelled because there is no good answer for what happened. It is unfair. It is wrong.
And yet it is life. And sometimes such harsh realities are hard--if not impossible--to accept. The night before I took my students white water rafting in Australia, I went through a spiritual panic of sorts. Actually, I've gone through this panic the two other times I've taken students whitewater rafting as well. I'm lying there in bed and suddenly visions of one of my students being washed out in the rapids, cracking their heads on a river rock rise up before me. I pray: Dear God, Please keep us safe tomorrow. I trust You. But then I wonder: What if He doesn't? Everyday people who are trusting God to keep them safe, lose their lives (unless you want to suggest that every person who dies in accident did so because they didn't trust God or "forgot to pray." Try telling that to Paulo and see how far you get). What do I mean when I sayI trust God? Imagine doing that old teambuilding standby, the trust fall, with the unsteady assurance that "we can catch you--we have the power to do so, we probably will catch you, and even if we don't you'll grow through the experience." Not too many of us would take the fall. And in fact, it's this inherent uncertainty that leads many to turn their backs on faith all together. You've heard the accusation before--"What kind of God would allow. . ." and you fill in the blank. And it's a good question. What good is trust if I don't have an ironclad, inviolable guarantee that something bad won't happen?
I think everyone in the world wants that deal from God. Many religons--including the Christian faith--often to seem suggest that God offers such a bargain. It's tempting to believe that our rituals, our appeasements, our rule-keeping, our sacrifices (or faith in His sacrifices) might somehow get us absolute security in an uncertain and random world. But here's the hard truth that nobody wants to admitt. That deal is not on the table. It never has been, never will be. It's not available to the saint, the sinner, or the atheist--not for anyone. We are all at the mercy of this sin-sick world.
And it's important to accept this reality if we are to have any hope of building a trust in God that can withstand the inevitable tragedies of this life. "Life is pain. Anyone who says otherwise is trying to sell you something," says the Dread Pirate Roberts in the comedy classic The Princess Bride. Improbably, Charlotte, in the movie Sex and the City recognizes this truth when she worries--and I'm paraphrasing her very loosely here --"that my life has gone so well, and how can that possibly continue--everyone has to have their share of pain." When she said those lines, I knew exactly what she meant. I've thought it a thousand times as I've wondered at the incredibly blessed life I've lived so far. When will the other shoe drop, I wonder? And so I start to bargain with God. "Okay, things have been great so far--but if you're going to take something don't let it be my son." etc.
So if there is no guarantee of personal safety for ourselves or for those we love what does it mean to trust God? Lately, I've been reading in the 11th chapter of the book of Hebreww in the New Testament about the great heroes of faith--Abel, Enoch, Noah, Abraham, Joseph, Rahab and manyh others. And I think they got it. These men and women didn't place their faith in the rosy idea that God would always keep them safe. After all Joseph ended up in jail at one point and Abel ended up dead. In fact pretty much all of them did--"they did not receive what was promised" it says. So what was this great faith they had? First, I think it was faith in the presence of God. It was a belief in His guidance and leading and care, in spite of the tragedies they encountered. But more than that--and Hebrews 11 makes this abundantly clear--their faith was in the Big Picture. Their faith was in something bigger than the ups and downs of this life.
We tend to want God to come through in the here and now. And often He does, and we rejoice in that. But we forget that tragedy, not triumph is the default setting for life on earth. Each day that we finish secure in health and strength, friends and family is a precious gift from God. It is not, as we often behave, a birthright owed to us by God. It's not often that we ask "Why has God protected me today?" Perhaps we should. We're often too comfortable here in this world and as a result often unprepared when the world, as it is wont to do, gets uncomfortable. The heroes of faith undertood this--they "confessed that they were strangers and exiles on the earth. . .that they were seeking a country of their own. . .they desire a better country, that is a heavenly one." Call it "pie in the sky" if you will, but the fact is, there isn't any better deal being offered out there. Those who put their trust in God know this world isn't it. Bad stuff happened to all of them, and while it hurt, it didn't faze them because their eyes were on a bigger, better prize.
To escape storms is not the point. To have peace in the midst of them is. Our trust in God is not that He will protect us from tragedy--though He can, and everyday, He does. Our trust in Him is that He will enable us to endure whatever may come and that we will ultimately obtain something beyond the sadness that often accompanies and finally ends this life.
God is here. He cares. Pain and death is not the end. This is the peace that passes all understanding, the joy that no one can take away.
All these died in faith, without receiveing the promises, but having seen them and having welcomed them from a distance, and having confessed that they were strangers and exiles on the earth.
--Hebrews 11:13
I'm ready to make a Rock my home.
I'm ready to build with bricks of gold.
--Mat Kearny "Lifetime"
A couple of things have gotten me thinking about these questions recently. For one thing, Elijah's birth is coming up in just a few months and I'm finding my outlook on the world is changing pretty radically. Not long ago, I read an article online about how when you have kids you start thinking about things like global warming and nuclear warfare because you worry about what kind of world your kid will grow up in. I totally get that now. Lately, it seems like the world has been rocked by disaster after disaster--the cyclone in Burma, the earthquake in China, tornadoes, floods, and fires in the United States. Food and oil is running low while their prices are skyrocketing worldwide. Even right here at home, Saipan sometimes seems on the brink of implosion with the increasing instablity of our power grid and the continued free fall of our local economy. It makes me wonder what kind of life my child will inherit.
Also, many of our friends have departed Saipan in recent weeks and we don't know when--or, God forbid, if--we will see them again. Suddenly, in their absence from our everyday lives the Pacific Ocean seems awfully huge, the distance between us all, vast. My mind has wandered to the many, myraid tragedies big and small that could befall any of us at any time and make these recent goodbyes permanent ones.
And finally, I'm sure it doesn't help that I'm currently working on a novel that imagines a worldwide failure of every kind of electrical and fuel-powered device--the entire planet flung 200 years back into the past. My story is set here in Saipan, and of necessity, I've had to imagine every implication of such a disaster on a little island like this. It's a little scary, actually.
In short, I've been reminded of how fragile this precious thing we call life really is.
And I've wondered: What do we mean when we say we trust God? Often, I think we often mean we trust God to keep us safe. But what happens when He doesn't? And let's be honest--He doesn't always. Is it really God we trust or is our faith is actually built on regular electricity, fully-stocked stores, and money in our pockets. What happens when these security blankets are stripped away--as they have been for many in Iowa and China and Burma? What happens when the God we put our faith in seems to let us drop? About two weeks ago my friend and fellow church elder Paulo Restauro's mother died. She was only 53 years old, in an accident, and was in the hospital for several days. Paulo was certain that God would heal her. His faith was being put to the test and he was rising to the challenge. And then, just like that, he lost her. I've watched his faith sway under the weight of his grief. He seems to be shouldering the burden well, all things considered, but I know it's been hard for him (especially since immigration issues made impossible for him to fly back to the Philippines for her funeral). His faith has been pummelled because there is no good answer for what happened. It is unfair. It is wrong.
And yet it is life. And sometimes such harsh realities are hard--if not impossible--to accept. The night before I took my students white water rafting in Australia, I went through a spiritual panic of sorts. Actually, I've gone through this panic the two other times I've taken students whitewater rafting as well. I'm lying there in bed and suddenly visions of one of my students being washed out in the rapids, cracking their heads on a river rock rise up before me. I pray: Dear God, Please keep us safe tomorrow. I trust You. But then I wonder: What if He doesn't? Everyday people who are trusting God to keep them safe, lose their lives (unless you want to suggest that every person who dies in accident did so because they didn't trust God or "forgot to pray." Try telling that to Paulo and see how far you get). What do I mean when I sayI trust God? Imagine doing that old teambuilding standby, the trust fall, with the unsteady assurance that "we can catch you--we have the power to do so, we probably will catch you, and even if we don't you'll grow through the experience." Not too many of us would take the fall. And in fact, it's this inherent uncertainty that leads many to turn their backs on faith all together. You've heard the accusation before--"What kind of God would allow. . ." and you fill in the blank. And it's a good question. What good is trust if I don't have an ironclad, inviolable guarantee that something bad won't happen?
I think everyone in the world wants that deal from God. Many religons--including the Christian faith--often to seem suggest that God offers such a bargain. It's tempting to believe that our rituals, our appeasements, our rule-keeping, our sacrifices (or faith in His sacrifices) might somehow get us absolute security in an uncertain and random world. But here's the hard truth that nobody wants to admitt. That deal is not on the table. It never has been, never will be. It's not available to the saint, the sinner, or the atheist--not for anyone. We are all at the mercy of this sin-sick world.
And it's important to accept this reality if we are to have any hope of building a trust in God that can withstand the inevitable tragedies of this life. "Life is pain. Anyone who says otherwise is trying to sell you something," says the Dread Pirate Roberts in the comedy classic The Princess Bride. Improbably, Charlotte, in the movie Sex and the City recognizes this truth when she worries--and I'm paraphrasing her very loosely here --"that my life has gone so well, and how can that possibly continue--everyone has to have their share of pain." When she said those lines, I knew exactly what she meant. I've thought it a thousand times as I've wondered at the incredibly blessed life I've lived so far. When will the other shoe drop, I wonder? And so I start to bargain with God. "Okay, things have been great so far--but if you're going to take something don't let it be my son." etc.
So if there is no guarantee of personal safety for ourselves or for those we love what does it mean to trust God? Lately, I've been reading in the 11th chapter of the book of Hebreww in the New Testament about the great heroes of faith--Abel, Enoch, Noah, Abraham, Joseph, Rahab and manyh others. And I think they got it. These men and women didn't place their faith in the rosy idea that God would always keep them safe. After all Joseph ended up in jail at one point and Abel ended up dead. In fact pretty much all of them did--"they did not receive what was promised" it says. So what was this great faith they had? First, I think it was faith in the presence of God. It was a belief in His guidance and leading and care, in spite of the tragedies they encountered. But more than that--and Hebrews 11 makes this abundantly clear--their faith was in the Big Picture. Their faith was in something bigger than the ups and downs of this life.
We tend to want God to come through in the here and now. And often He does, and we rejoice in that. But we forget that tragedy, not triumph is the default setting for life on earth. Each day that we finish secure in health and strength, friends and family is a precious gift from God. It is not, as we often behave, a birthright owed to us by God. It's not often that we ask "Why has God protected me today?" Perhaps we should. We're often too comfortable here in this world and as a result often unprepared when the world, as it is wont to do, gets uncomfortable. The heroes of faith undertood this--they "confessed that they were strangers and exiles on the earth. . .that they were seeking a country of their own. . .they desire a better country, that is a heavenly one." Call it "pie in the sky" if you will, but the fact is, there isn't any better deal being offered out there. Those who put their trust in God know this world isn't it. Bad stuff happened to all of them, and while it hurt, it didn't faze them because their eyes were on a bigger, better prize.
To escape storms is not the point. To have peace in the midst of them is. Our trust in God is not that He will protect us from tragedy--though He can, and everyday, He does. Our trust in Him is that He will enable us to endure whatever may come and that we will ultimately obtain something beyond the sadness that often accompanies and finally ends this life.
God is here. He cares. Pain and death is not the end. This is the peace that passes all understanding, the joy that no one can take away.
All these died in faith, without receiveing the promises, but having seen them and having welcomed them from a distance, and having confessed that they were strangers and exiles on the earth.
--Hebrews 11:13
I'm ready to make a Rock my home.
I'm ready to build with bricks of gold.
--Mat Kearny "Lifetime"
posted by Sean at 1:58 AM
1 Comments:
thank you for your thoughts on faith. I still struggle with my faith. Some days its here and some days I don't know where the heck it went. But your words make sense that even though there are no guarantees . . . i know that God will help me endure whatever life may throw at me.
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