Samantha Today

I don’t know about you, but devastating tornadoes occurring so quickly on the heels of the Boston Marathon bombings do not soothe my soul. They force me into a mental corner where I must take time to think, deeply, about God and what I believe about him.

The first thing that leaps to my mind when I hear about tornadoes is, of course, Dorothy and Toto in Kansas, but the second thing is actually the book of Job, from the Bible. Are you familiar with this book? It’s strange. It tells the story of a pretty good guy who had lots of kids and money, but nevertheless a guy who God apparently allows Satan to “test”. God allows Satan to test Job by letting fire, neighboring warriors, and eventually a tornado destroy every earthly possession Job has–including his children. Oh, and then as if that isn’t enough, God lets Job’s health fall to pieces.

Whoops. I just told you about one of the worst stories in the Bible. Or is it?

The majority of the book of Job involves Job himself desperately trying to figure out why God would let these terrible things happen to him. Wasn’t he a good enough person? Shouldn’t God have spared him from pain because of all the good things–or at least lack of bad things–he had done? And we find ourselves reading about Job and demanding the same answer from God–why? Why Job? And why, for the love, the good people of Oklahoma?

When God finally reveals himself and answers Job’s questions–thirty-some chapters later–he appears and speaks to him from a tornado. Huh. And what he says isn’t this: “Job, remember that one time you sinned and forgot to repent? That’s why I punished you.” He also doesn’t say this: “Actually, Job, Satan asked if he could test you, so I let him. I knew you’d pull through. It’s just a game Satan and I play.” No, only the reader knows about the deal God made with Satan at the beginning of the book. Job’s questions–like ours, in the wake of horrific life events–go largely unanswered.

What God finally reveals about himself to Job, over the course of five chapters at the end of the book, is basically I AM. He points to creation, it’s beauty, its general orderliness and thriving animals. He takes credit, as he should, for creating and sustaining this universe. And he tells Job, in so many words, not to question him. “Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth?” (Job 38:4) “Shall a faultfinder contend with the Almighty? He who argues with God, let him answer it.” (Job 40:2)

Now, the question that arises most often in the midst of troubling circumstances is this: How can I even believe in God in the first place when bad things like tornadoes and bombings continue to happen?

Here’s what I have to say about that: we don’t believe or not believe in God because of natural disasters or the lack thereof. I believe in God because I’m sitting on a couch looking into the beautiful green of my backyard. There’s a heart beating inside my body that’s even more complex in design than the machine I’m typing on. I’m writing about God, so either I created him or him me…and I know for sure I didn’t make him. Big bang/evolution/young vs. old earth, doesn’t matter, there is a God. Something can’t come from nothing. I’m not a scientist, but neither are scientists theologians, and we all know enough to know that science has not disproven God.

What I completely understand is people who get angry and turn that anger toward the God they do or don’t believe in when tornadoes drown seven children in the basement of an elementary school. Are you joking? I’d be wrecked if that happened to my kids. I’m wrecked that it happened at all. Job lamented his circumstances, too, and basically gave up life and sat around asking why? why? why? Anger, or questioning of what exactly God is like are natural responses to tragedy and suffering of any kind.

But it seems to me that if God made all of this, he owns all of this. And ownership demands respect. Whether I like what’s happening on earth or not, the one who made me demands my awe and respect. And that’s basically what God tells Job at the end of the book–right before he graciously, lovingly, generously restores all of Job’s earthly possessions–going above and beyond what Job had before he endured crisis. 

That’s right. The respect God demands simply by being God and creating the universe isn’t the end of the story. And so it turns out that this might not be the worst story in the Bible–but the best story of all.

While God does demand our respect, he also graciously displayed his love for us when he sent his son Jesus to earth, in human form, to brutally die in our place on a cross.

The book of Job is a microcosm for life. There is a cosmic battle going on in the heavenly realms, of which we are not privy to more than a mere glimpse. But we are enduring the effects of this battle, and while we cannot completely understand it, it often hurts like hell. One important question we must ask, the one God is literally dying to answer is not why is this happening to me? but Who is God? Furthermore, how can we not cling to God when events like this occur? Something is obviously, desperately wrong with our universe–where else are we going to go but towards the one and only God who created it, and who speaks out of tornados?

I learned a few interesting things about myself this weekend.

1. People can read me like a book. A girlfriend pulled me aside and asked very kindly “are we OK? I feel like you’re mad at me.” She apologized for speaking shortly to me earlier, guessing that was why I was acting weird.

2. I’m in denial or a liar or both. Initially I protested emphatically, assuring her no, you’re totally imagining things! I’m fine, we’re fine, etc. etc. But as I thought about it more and more, I realized that I had indeed been bothered when she was short with me, and that I’d completely withdrawn from her as a way to punish her for that. I went back later and apologized for pretending that I wasn’t mad at her.

3. My husband has a secret name for my bad behavior. When I relayed the incident to my husband, he laughed and said “Oh, you gave her the Sam Freezeout? Tell her I’ve been experiencing that for years.”

If you have been a victim of the Sam Freezeout, consider this a public apology. I promise to grow a thicker skin and if I can’t, to alert you when you’re not perfect so that you can apologize to me for not being perfect. In other words, I’m considering growing up!

And, in completely unrelated news, I rediscovered what “my colors” are this weekend! In case you are curious, I’m a clear winter. (And if you want to learn your colors, check out this link.)

(Just wanted to assure everyone that I have redeeming qualities, too. Like telling people what their colors are.)

Wes grabbed his Awana book and enthusiastically began his lesson, scribbling furiously. When I asked him the nature of his assignment, he replied excitedly “drawing a picture of heaven!”

Curious, I peered over his shoulder and saw the following illustration:

“No sinners from hell allowed.”

Wes, a typical firstborn, relishes knowing, establishing and enforcing rules–and violators will be prosecuted. When I saw a visual image of how his young mind pictures heaven, my heart sank.

I wish I didn’t reinforce this bad theology, but I fear that I do.

The other night as our family drove through town, I noticed a truck driving erratically up onto the sidewalk in front of us. We followed the truck up a hill, observing how it proceeded suspiciously slowly, veering right and then left towards oncoming traffic. “Get the license plate!” I shouted to Darren, “I’m calling the police!” An officer found and arrested the driver for DUI, calling later to get my statement. I proudly texted my Dad–a retired police officer–to let him know about my good deed for the day.

I don’t think the kids heard me voice concern for the driver–I think they heard me say things like “that guy’s gonna kill somebody!” And I don’t think they heard me talk about grace or forgiveness–I’m pretty sure I said things like “the police will find him and put him in jail where he belongs!”

I think they might have heard a version of “No sinners from hell allowed.”

How does one explain to a child that heaven will be chock full of forgiven sinners–including self-righteous people like their mom?

Last week I got to meet Amy, a girl who’s been a friend of Darren’s for fifteen years but who I’d never met in person. She’s lovely.

Look what she brought me from West Elm! She reads this blog and said “I could just tell this would be something you’d like.” Thanks Amy!

If you think not enough people read your blog to make it significant, just remember someone who reads my blog figured out what I like and brought me something awesome.

And now, I think I’ll just post some random photos for no particular reason.

(you never know who reads your blog.)

Hi readers! Where have you been? Oh…you’ve been here? Oh, right. Where have I been.

I’ve been doing something I always do: being black or white about things. It goes a little something like this:

I haven’t blogged in awhile. Best to just not blog again today. No reason, really. I have the time and everything, and lots of great ideas for posts. But, you see, I’m black or white: I tend to either do something or I don’t.

I haven’t run in over a week. I had a recurring health issue send me into a tailspin (don’t worry about it), and then Darren went out of town, and then, well, you know…I hadn’t run for a few days, so I just kept not running for a few more days in a row because that’s what I do: I either do something or I don’t. I’m black or white.

I guess it’s perfectionism rearing its ugly head.

Even this post is black and white. Do you hear how I’m describing myself? “Always”…”never”…I can’t even discuss my imperfections in a balanced manner…AAARRRGGGGHHH!

I’d like to think I’ve graduated out of black or white-ness–and trust me when I say I’ve come a long way–but somehow I’m still growing into the balance of gray. I guess, like everything else in life, this is a process.

Are you a black or white type person? (in other words, can you feel my pain?)