There is a time for everything, a season for every activity under the Sun. Ecclesiastes 3:1
I don’t know (Haiti)
Sitting many miles away from Haiti in a house that is still standing, with a kitchen that is stocked with sufficient food and water, and a toilet that works it seems almost inappropriate to write about their tragedy.
Most of us have never experienced real dramatic tragedy on this scale. We have car accidents, lose a loved one, become ill. These things wear us down and break our hearts but losing many of your loved ones, to know they are crushed or buried alive beneath the rubble? Beneath your feet? To suddenly become home-less, food-less and water-less overnight? To be not just helpless but painfully aware of all of your limitations at just the point in time when more than anything you want to be capable, prepared and able to take care of your family?
Very often when tragedy strikes we see just glimpses of the problem as new tragedies in other places call our attention away. This time we are fixed before the unfolding story of how the helpless receive help. Slowly.
It made me remember a woman who commented at the time for offering in our church how when we want God’s help we pray and want him to respond immediately, urgently. But when he asks us to do something we go slowly, at our leisure, in our own time.
The Haiti tragedy makes it plain that slow help, although it is still help and appreciated, adds to the longing. When will the help arrive? Will I still be strong enough to be saved by it?
Does God want people to suffer? No. Does he hear the prayers of those who call out to him? Yes. Does he work through us and directly to intervene for the good of those who hurt? Yes. Can I blame him for an earthquake on a fault line? For the agencies seemingly slow to deliver their good intentions? For the dead and injured?
Year after year I have wondered at Haiti’s string of misfortunes. It seemed that the poorest were definitely becoming poorer as so many other stronger islands escaped. I have heard some from the Caribbean wonder at their luck and consider if the cause is geography or theology. Prayer or Voodoo. Nature or divine discipline. I heard the same reasoning after the Thailand Tsunami too.
How do you see God? Is he angry and tired of having gentler rebukes ignored? Is he lashing out at the weak to bring them to their knees? Is he hoping for their future salvation as a result of this present pain? Is that how you see him in your mind’s eye?
Or is he sitting with the grieving, comforting the buried, and rallying the fatigued workers to try just one more time? Is he minimising the destruction, creating goodwill worldwide and bringing resources in to meet their need?
People often see God as a split personality. The God who drowned pharaoh’s army, who destroyed Jericho and brought fire down on Sodom and Gomorrah; the Jesus who healed the sick, raised the dead and sacrificed himself for our good. By compartmentalising his actions we allow ourselves to embrace those aspects we like and push away those we do not. Is this adapting of God’s image to suit us a form of idolatry or a limitation of our humanity?
Bad things happen to good people. Natural tragedies strike without human cause and can affect both good and bad people equally. Suffering is widespread and disease, famine and war still affect many people around the world. We are people not gods. We are subject to nature’s whims as much as cattle or sheep. And sometimes, I have to admit, we bring trouble on ourselves. (Wars, climate change, famine and obesity related disease to name but a few.)
I can not blame God for Haiti – who am I?
I am the person who if tragedy should strike in my life would wish to be in it with him. Comforted by his presence when no one else can see or hear me, hopeful in his help which comes on time, trusting in his knowledge and care. He is my saviour and he is more than able. If he chooses I shall live and if he chooses not then – who am I?
And yes, I would be scared and tearful, confused and above all human but that is exactly
Sitting many miles away from Haiti in a house that is still standing, with a kitchen that is stocked with sufficient food and water, and a toilet that works it seems almost inappropriate to write about their tragedy.
Most of us have never experienced real dramatic tragedy on this scale. We have car accidents, lose a loved one, become ill. These things wear us down and break our hearts but losing many of your loved ones, to know they are crushed or buried alive beneath the rubble? Beneath your feet? To suddenly become home-less, food-less and water-less overnight? To be not just helpless but painfully aware of all of your limitations at just the point in time when more than anything you want to be capable, prepared and able to take care of your family?
Very often when tragedy strikes we see just glimpses of the problem as new tragedies in other places call our attention away. This time we are fixed before the unfolding story of how the helpless receive help. Slowly.
It made me remember a woman who commented at the time for offering in our church how when we want God’s help we pray and want him to respond immediately, urgently. But when he asks us to do something we go slowly, at our leisure, in our own time.
The Haiti tragedy makes it plain that slow help, although it is still help and appreciated, adds to the longing. When will the help arrive? Will I still be strong enough to be saved by it?
Does God want people to suffer? No. Does he hear the prayers of those who call out to him? Yes. Does he work through us and directly to intervene for the good of those who hurt? Yes. Can I blame him for an earthquake on a fault line? For the agencies seemingly slow to deliver their good intentions? For the dead and injured?
Year after year I have wondered at Haiti’s string of misfortunes. It seemed that the poorest were definitely becoming poorer as so many other stronger islands escaped. I have heard some from the Caribbean wonder at their luck and consider if the cause is geography or theology. Prayer or Voodoo. Nature or divine discipline. I heard the same reasoning after the Thailand Tsunami too.
How do you see God? Is he angry and tired of having gentler rebukes ignored? Is he lashing out at the weak to bring them to their knees? Is he hoping for their future salvation as a result of this present pain? Is that how you see him in your mind’s eye?
Or is he sitting with the grieving, comforting the buried, and rallying the fatigued workers to try just one more time? Is he minimising the destruction, creating goodwill worldwide and bringing resources in to meet their need?
People often see God as a split personality. The God who drowned pharaoh’s army, who destroyed Jericho and brought fire down on Sodom and Gomorrah; the Jesus who healed the sick, raised the dead and sacrificed himself for our good. By compartmentalising his actions we allow ourselves to embrace those aspects we like and push away those we do not. Is this adapting of God’s image to suit us a form of idolatry or a limitation of our humanity?
Bad things happen to good people. Natural tragedies strike without human cause and can affect both good and bad people equally. Suffering is widespread and disease, famine and war still affect many people around the world. We are people not gods. We are subject to nature’s whims as much as cattle or sheep. And sometimes, I have to admit, we bring trouble on ourselves. (Wars, climate change, famine and obesity related disease to name but a few.)
I can not blame God for Haiti – who am I?
I am the person who if tragedy should strike in my life would wish to be in it with him. Comforted by his presence when no one else can see or hear me, hopeful in his help which comes on time, trusting in his knowledge and care. He is my saviour and he is more than able. If he chooses I shall live and if he chooses not then – who am I?
And yes, I would be scared and tearful, confused and above all human but that is exactly