My self-serving, instant gratification, arrogant, self-righteous humanity demands explanations. What? When? Where? And Why? If I don’t understand it and put in my vote, ain’t gonna happen.
I have been well taught by the culture that surrounds me and when there is a God that I can not understand, uhhh….not really my thing.
What do I not understand? I do not understand that babies die. I do not understand that someone would devote their life to missionary work, pray over a dying father and God allows them to die. I do not understand that mothers get cancer, I personally do not understand that. I do not understand that children see their mothers raped. I do not understand…A LOT!
And then God asks me to accept? He asks me to trust? He asks me to follow? He asks me to worship him?! I DO NOT LIKE THAT!
And that is the very answer. I AM NOT GOD. I have my plans of how I think the world should look. I have my plans for my life, and trust me, it did not include cancer! I have my plans for prayer being answered. I have my plans for babies being rescued. But God is not here to serve me. He does not have to get my approval. He is not my apprentice. That is a god that I create. Hard to swallow, but I am never asked to understand.
I can hear the insults now: Dumb Christians! That is a fairytale!
And I hear another response: I only follow what I can understand.
Really?! Do you get all the government inside scoop? No? Then you should live your life in fear. Are you a specialist of every disease, do you understand all the parts of the body? How could you ever trust a doctor? Did you build your own home? How can you trust it will not fall on your head while you sleep?
Then how can you understand the meaning of the universe? How can you impart your morals on all around you?
Can you just accept that you do not, and you never will, know and understand everything?
Elisabeth Elliott, that saw the death of her murdered husband, she dedicated her life to missionary work to see her life’s work washed away in a flood and her only translator die at her hands puts it this way, “Those hands, that keep a million worlds from spinning into oblivion, were nailed motionless to a cross for us. Can you trust him?“