It is a curious thing, I often think, that mankind, in his overweening pride, believes he can conquer nature, whether it be outside or inside. The natural world seems an unnatural world.
And so, when disasters happen, especially when children are lost, we cry out, “Why?” Like St. Paul in today’s letter to the church in Rome, we “groaneth and travaileth in pain together… groaning within ourselves…” (Romans 8:18+)
We have, it appears, an irrational hope and expectation that is dashed when children are lost, when innocents suffer, when plague and famine kill, when the unborn are slaughtered, when human holocausts rage.
The real question is, why do we ask “Why?” Why do we have this hope and expectation that things should be different than they are?
Light and dark. Joy and sorrow. Life and death. Truth and lies.
When I consider the Texas floods I groan within. When I consider the slaughter of the unborn I groan within. When I think of those lost in the Nine-Eleven terror I groan within. And so many other times of pain and suffering in this life throughout our world.
But I know, and I am so very glad and grateful to believe in that certain knowledge, that, as St. Paul writes, “the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us… because [we] shall be delivered from the bondage of corruption into the glorious liberty of the children of God.” The glorious liberty – yes, yes, yes.
We are children of God, and we shall be reunited with those lost. This is not a vain promise, but the act of God himself on a hill outside Jerusalem. And we must remember that it was Herod who slaughtered the innocents. Yet we ask, “But why? Why must this be?”
We know why – because of Adam and Eve and the Garden of Eden. Because of a snake and fruit and disobedience and lies. Because of banishment from that garden, that paradise. And so we live and work and grow old and ill and feel death’s sting until we go home to Paradise and our bodies are redeemed from the bondage of corruption.
We have all had our share of tragedy and heartbreak, sin and death. We have all been a part of this saga of suffering. We want to cast blame, find a scapegoat. But when we confess our own failings, hourly, daily, we are not so quick to condemn. We clean out our hearts, scour them with the love of God and the bright light of Christ, that glorious rule of love. And when we are clean, the door opens and Our Lord returns. He now resides in our hearts – and there is no greater joy, no greater life, no greater truth than opening our hearts to the Love of God. It is a healing love, one that helps with our groaning and grief.
There was something diabolic about the Texas flood, this slaughter of innocents. It happened in the dark, while they were sleeping. It happened on the Fourth of July, our celebration of life and liberty. It happened to Christian campers, trusting and loving.
And yet, the stories of heroism, those who saved others, are resurrecting those lives lost, reminding us that these innocents are in Paradise and Love lives on in our country.
Still, we groan and grieve. We look to Christ to redeem this time and in the meantime, this mean-time in which we live outside the garden, we play our part in the redemption of the world, celebrating the Judeo-Christian promise of the West – freedom, faith, and family. And our children.
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Congratulations to the ten winners of the Goodreads Giveaway for Angel Mountain (Wipf and Stock, 2020) in celebration of Western Civilization and the Judeo-Christian tradition of life and liberty.
Christine Sunderland
Christine Sunderland 