I read something recently about grief
which talked about the writer's experience of finding joy and peace hidden
within the process of grieving. This would be a lovely testimony, except that
the writer generalised their experience to all Christians. And I thought of
some friends of mine and how discouraging they would find that. Because as the
writer blithely described the experience of God drawing near through grief and
feeling the blessing of his closeness I heard in my head the baffled cry of a
Christian friend going through a terrible grief, "If I felt closer to God
it would feel less pointless, but in the worst time in my life he has never
seemed so far away."
I know she is not unique. I have felt
that same thing. In the darkest night of my life, when I feel I have needed
God's presence more than I ever have before, suddenly he has disappeared. And
not for a day or two. For a month, for a year. Left in that swirling void is
confusion, anger, doubt: Where has he gone? Is it my fault? Is God angry with
me? Is he punishing me? Is he even there?
It's quick and easy to diagnose the
fault with the believer from the outside, not enough faith, some sin blocking
the way, but in my opinion also quite wrong. I know a little something about
strong emotion, and a little something about grief from a personal point of
view and they have this in common, your emotions cannot be trusted. They will
lie to you, and they will overwhelm you to the exclusion of any other feeling.
That includes physical feelings, like hunger and tiredness, and so how much
more more abstract feelings like being loved. God may feel far away simply
because the overwhelming weight of your grief, pain, anger, loss holds at a
distance all of the feelings you associate with his presence, joy in your
salvation, supernatural peace, the sense of being loved and protected.
But even above and beyond all this is
the fact that the human brain can only tolerate so much distress without
shutting down its emotions altogether. This is a blessed mercy in many ways as
it allows you to get through the early stages of grief and all the things that
have to be done. From the outside people will comment about how well you are
dealing with it, but in reality you are sleep walking, numb, in emotional
shutdown. This stage of grief can last weeks, months, years, especially if
there is a need to 'carry on' or 'be strong' for others. You can't afford the
luxury of feeling your pain so you shut it down, but it’s not selective. Along
with pain you have to shut down all feeling.
Another common reason that God can feel
distant is particularly potent for faithful Christians. It is the fact that you
are angry with God. You don't want to be, you feel it is wrong to be, you ought
to trust him, to submit to his will to believe in his goodness even in this,
but everything in you cries out, it's wrong, it's bad, it's unfair, how
could you. We are much less holy in practice than in theory. It's easy in
good times to say God has a purpose for good in all things, but when confronted
with the ultimate unnatural evil of death our theology can easily be swamped by
feeling.
Now this may be because we secretly
have some problems in our practical theology. We may know that we are the
recipients of grace but be quietly holding on to the belief that God owes us
something because we are good. We may believe that God is Sovereign and Good
but have not practiced trusting and dwelling in that sovereignty and good in
our everyday life so we are ill equipped to face the ultimate test. There is
nothing like death and despair to show up our spiritual flaws in neon lights.
But even if these things and others like are present there will be an
underlying anger which is entirely fitting. Because death is wrong. It is
unnatural. It was never meant to be and so feelings of confusion and anger are
entirely appropriate. If you don't believe me read the Psalms. Read Job. That
isn't to encourage anyone to wallow in anger and feel justified, in fact for
your own good you should try to move out of it as soon as possible, but it
isn't wrong.
However, we often believe that this
anger is wrong, so we deny it, conceal it and don't deal with it. It sits,
festering, unacknowledged. And unacknowledged anger doesn't go away. So, we
have to face up to the fact that maybe God feels distant because we are angry
and we want him to be distant, in fact we are keeping him at arm’s length.
Now some will argue that surely God
provides peace that passes all understanding which will penetrate through all
of these layers that would keep a sense of his closeness away. And I would wag
my finger at those people and remind them that context matters. That passage in
Philippians 4 is about anxiety. It's about peace in
uncertainty because we know that God takes care of our every need.
Incidentally, not a small challenge in itself! Now I wouldn't for a second deny
that God can and does often break through graciously and give supernatural
experiences of peace and joy in grief and loss. But if he doesn't Philippians 4
should not be used as a stick to beat either the suffering Christian or God
himself for not providing this peace.
Now I have no wish to affirm that God
may feel distant and leave Christians hopeless in their predicament. I have
some encouragement to offer which I hope is sweeter than the condemnation of
God or self for failing to feel joy, peace and presence in the darkness of
grief.
Firstly, have a good look to see if you
are angry. Don't hide it, don't pretend, if I know anything it's the damage
that emotions that you refuse to look at can do to you. You don't have to nurse
it but be real about it, tell God about it, ask for his help with it, tell him
you don't understand why it had to happen, that death feels wrong, like a
betrayal, and remember that he knows all about it. That you are talking to the
God who cried out in the face of death, "My God, my God, why have you
forsaken me?" Which as well as being a Messianic sign and a symbol of
facing a much deeper rejection than we as Christians now experience in death,
was nevertheless a real expression of feeling.
Now my second is a re-interpretation of
a phrase that has been thrown at me many times by the well-intentioned.
Feelings aren't facts. Now my response to this is always to say that without
feelings facts become meaningless to me. But for me I have learned that the
thing to set in opposition to feelings is not facts but faith. I may not feel
God is close, but I can have faith that he is. I may not feel his love, but I
can have faith that it is there. I may not feel joy in my salvation but I can
have faith that my salvation is real and is something that is truly, deeply,
immensely good. I may not feel God is good, kind, merciful, loving, but I can
choose to have faith that he is all of these. I can choose to listen to his
word and affirm its truth in the face of what I feel. I may not feel that God
is bringing good out of this miserable darkness but I can choose to have faith
that he is. I can look at the stories of him bringing bigger and stranger
blessing out of tragedy and mess and darkness and sin over and over throughout
the Bible, culminating at the cross and I can believe that however I feel I can
trust that he is doing this in my situation here and now. I may not feel a
loved, precious child, but I can choose to believe I am one and act
accordingly.
Each
strand of sorrow has a place
Within
this tapestry of grace;
So
through the trials I choose to say:
“Your
perfect will in Your perfect way.”
Stuart Townend
and Keith Getty.
Now none of these things may lift the
darkness or make God feel any closer but they will help the pain feel
less meaningless and hopefully lighten the load of frustration at God's
apparent distance. And it doesn't last. The numbness fades in time and leaves
deep anguish but also the potential for moments of peace, the bitterness of the
loss fades a little and there is space for us to recognise God's presence which
has never actually left. And ultimately as we cling in the face of our feelings
to our faith in the truth we can know his promise that it will be bearing
fruit, in our relationship with God, in our lives as we become equipped to help
and love others better, in the church as they see us persevere through the
darkness.
And finally, we can use this experience
to grow our thirst for heaven where God's presence will be the light, with us
always, that never goes out, where there will be no grief, pain or sorrow to
cloud or obscure our enjoyment of his love, where there will be no death,
no parting or loss.
"For this
light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory
beyond all comparison, as
we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For
the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal."
2 Corinth 4:17-18.
