Loosening Orion's Belt: Silence, Sin, and Suffering

I don’t understand a lot of what happens in this life, though I incessantly try and calculate every event in my broken mind. However, in my restless attempts, I have come to learn that the ‘not understanding’ is a place where contentment grows when we stop trying to rationalize or excuse the ‘why God!?’ away.

There was a meteor shower this week and while I saw only one soaring, streak of light, my breath was taken away for maybe the nineteen thousandth time as I looked again at my favorite winter constellation—Orion—in the wee hours of the night. Immediately my thoughts jumped to Job and the Lord’s gracious response to Job in the midst of his great tragedy and pain. 

“Can you bind the chains of the Pleiades or loose the cords of Orion? Can you lead forth the Mazzaroth in their season, or can you guide the Bear with its children? Do you know the ordinances of the heavens? Can you establish their rule on the earth?” (38:31-34)

No, my Lord. No, we cannot. We are but dust before an infinite God, yet the Lord is remarkably mindful of us knowing our sorrow acutely (Psalm 8). But we don’t get the last word, or really any words at all, in our suffering; however, we are given the Word himself as a hope that springs eternal.

My excuses are flimsy.

My pouting is prideful.

My whining is a noisy gong.

Yet Job remains silent before God. I think this is where the contentment begins to grow—silence before the Lord. Lifting our eyes in wonder, marveling at his goodness and wisdom; because really, what do we have the right to say? (Isaiah 45)

But immense comfort comes when—instead of meticulously dissecting and analyzing why this or that—we acknowledge that every thing the Lord does, causes, plans, purposes is from a place of utmost compassion and unbridled mercy toward those he loves. He draws near to those who are his, even in the midst of evil sin, debilitating suffering, and deafening silence. Contentment’s roots deepen when we recognize that every ounce of suffering is a means of grace for the believer to look more like Christ as we follow him in obedience. It is meant for good. Meant. Planned. Ordained by a good and kind Father. (Genesis 50)

When Job—who suffered not as a result of his sin, but because the greater purposes of God—responds to the Lord, he is led to repent of his sinful reactions to his suffering and confesses of his finitude.

“I know that you can do all things, and that no purpose of yours can be thwarted.
‘Who is this that hides counsel without knowledge?’
Therefore I have uttered what I did not understand, things too wonderful for me, which I did not know.
‘Hear, and I will speak; I will question you, and you make it known to me.’
I had heard of you by the hearing of the ear, but now my eye sees you...” (42:1-5)

So with Job—instead of making demands of God—may we seek to repent of our sinful reactions in the midst of pain and know as if we have seen with our own eyes, that the Lord’s ways—all of them—are always good and complete to make you more like the Son.  We can’t loose Orion’s belt, but we know the One who can do all things.

SDG.

The Splinter of Sin

I’m always stunned by how much pain is inflicted from something so microscopic. This splinter must have embedded in the arch of my foot days ago, but I only became aware of it yesterday morning when I had unknowingly bumped against it sending a throbbing pain throughout. I got our designated “splinter” tweezers down from the shelf and removed it, knowing from experience that the pain would subside as soon as it was removed. So right there on the floor without a second’s delay, I removed it. And for the rest of the night, the sting of healing from the wound reminded me of the foreign object that once was there.

Isn’t that just like the sin that so easily slides in and embeds in our hearts? We think it’s small enough that no real damage will be done; that it couldn’t possibly cause infection or pain or permanent damage; that there would be no real lasting effects of keeping sin hidden under the layers of skin. (1 Corinthians 10:12, Hebrews 12:1)

But oh, when something rubs against it—exposing the infection that has gone unattended—oh the pain. Sin always destroys, causes pain, and if left untreated, death. And while it’s annoying when something comes along and fans the flame of discomfort by grazing the splinter, the “something” that reveals our sin is truly the grace of God. A person. An embarrassing moment. A verse. A song. A confrontation. A guilty conscience. A child’s rebuke. A caught red handed. A sermon. All of it is God’s grace. All of it. (2 Corinthians 7:20)

And there are lasting scars with sin. I forever wear the scars of some of those bothersome splinters—like the one on my hand I got from a wooden bunk bed at Heather’s 10th birthday party. Oh, I remember the pain, the blood, and now the scar. But though my spiritual splinters won’t now cause me death because Jesus died in my place, the scars of my past decisions are a constant reminder of the propensity and ease with which these sins will try to pierce my flesh again. So while I don’t need to fear walking barefoot—the callouses from walking daily in God’s word provide a source of security—there are areas of my life I must constantly inspect for any splinters, any sin that might have unknowingly lodged in my soul. (Psalm 32:3-5, 1 John 1:9)

Though seemingly tiny, the damage is great. And though exposure is uncomfortable for a moment, the grace of God’s tweezer in Christ Jesus is even greater than what sin left lodged could accomplish. The sting of an ignored splinter brings death, but the pain of removal brings life.  (Romans 5:20, James 4:6, 1 John 3:20, John 3:16).

So if there is a sin you’re ashamed of, a sin that has been exposed, a sin that is growing and the infection is starting to impact other ares of your life—run to Jesus, even if it’s a hobble or a limp. There you will find the balm your soul needs from the Savior who forever bears the scars of your sin on his hands. (John 20:27)

Physical Imbalances and the Trap of "Right Thinking"

I often fall into a trap of "right thinking." I am guessing it's a dangling carrot for you, too.  It's not that I mean to get stuck in a pit, it's just that I want to do what I am capable of doing. And I want to do it the right way. What I mean is that I delude myself into thinking if I just get the right energy levels, if I just get the right micronutrients, if I just have the right support for my immune system, and if I just get the right amount of sleep THEN I will be better, a better person...and only THEN I won't struggle in the ways I hate, THEN I won't cause a domino of carnage with my anger, THEN I will be more presentable to the world, THEN I will be a little easier to love. This is the path I find it easy to wander down.

Now, before you accuse me of throwing caution to the wind. Hear me out! Good sleep and proper eating are in no way unimportant. There are real mental, deeply emotional, and lasting physical consequences for neglecting proper care of and refusing attention to the human body.  Proactive measures that help regulate the physical system are absolutely!!!! essential. We must steward these temporary tents with care, consideration, and wisdom.

But...

often the pull can be to swing the pendulum too far in either direction and trust in those efforts for ease--from "Who cares! We get an imperishable body when we die!" to "These supplements, these foods, these treatments are my only hope." We either neglect good gifts or we make them gods. Getting the perceived "right" amount of external care is important, but it's not the most important thing for my burdened soul. We are body and soul, and right nutrition and supplementation can do nothing to remedy the sickness of sin.

The reason I explode in anger is not primarily due to a drop in blood sugar.
        I am a sinner who is tempted to be the queen of my own kingdom.

The greatest reason for my impatience toward others isn't simply because I got 4 restless hours of open-eyed sleep.
        I am a sinner who thinks I can limitlessly do things better than everyone else.

The reason I wrestle with anxious thoughts and paranoid visions is not primarily because my hormones are imbalanced.
        I am a sinner who cannot stand to have my close-fisted control threatened in any way.

My tendency to procrastinate and give excuses isn't primarily because of deficit disorders.
        I am a sinner who would rather use my time selfishly for my own ends.

My quickness to complain isn't ultimately because I was prevented from completing a workout.
        I am a sinner who hates being told what to do and when to do it.

My behaviors are a mere symptom. A sign post. Pointing out that something here is wrong. And it's my sin nature, and I am 100% responsible for it. This is the curse of being born into a broken body with a broken mind that has a disposition toward self and a bent away from the Lord. The effects of living in a fallen world are devastating and far reaching.  I bemoan that I do the things I don't want to do and I forego the very things I do want (Romans 7). I am a sinner and my weak flesh is an obvious witness. And while the symptoms of physical imbalances and neglect can manifest themselves in outright sinful behaviors, it is not the imbalance itself that is responsible for my reaction. And what's more, if it were possible to be without physical turmoil, we would still experience this deep dissatisfaction from the vast spiritual chasm in our soul. We would wrestle over our inability to still be better, to be enough, to have the "rightest" thinking, to fix our hearts. 

We cannot, like Eve, say that the serpent made us do it.  It was not the caffeine's fault we behaved in such manner.
    It is ours.
        We stand guilty.
And we cannot, like Adam, say that the woman that God gave us made us do it. It is not the overstimulating, unending noises' fault we responded in the way that we did.
    It is ours.
        We are guilty.

And for every sin, we stand guilty and deserving of the just punishment of God's wrath (Romans 6:23).

But there is good news.

Christ took the record of our debts and nailed it to the cross in his body. It was never a possibility that if we could just be right enough THEN we would have been better. We are dead in our sin, unable, incapable. But Christ himself bore the punishment in our place (Colossians 2:14). Those who believe on him are no longer declared guilty, but we are justified by the blood of Christ, receiving forgiveness for our sins, adopted as a son to our Father, and given eternal life in Christ (Romans 1:16-17, 3:21-26). We no longer serve the cruel master of sin, but are free to walk in the Spirit of Christ (Romans 6, 8:1-11). And this is all grace. 

And so we can freely eat nutritious foods. We are free to exercise and free to use supplements and vitamins as we see fit. We are free to abstain from activities or foods would otherwise prod us in the direction of the sin.  We are free to walk away from our sin and throw away excuses for them. Free to make positive judgement calls for our health in wisdom. Our soul has peace with God only through Christ; and though our outer body that is wasting away and groans to be made new, let us be cautious to not confuse the gift of just the right amount of physical care for the Giver of those gifts, let us be quick to distinguish the created elements from the Creator of all things, and refuse to muddy "right thinking" with Christ's imputed righteousness.

Our physical disparities, pains, and differences may not be made right on this side of eternity as we walk in sin-stained creation and feel the affects of living in a broken world. But they are a means of grace to bring us to the feet of Jesus as wait patiently for the day, rest assured, when all will be made new. All that is wrong will be made holy and wholly right (Revelation 21:5).

Even if...

I feel at such a loss

And like no one understands

A hidden, silent suffering

At the will of two small hands.

I sit in the hallway crying

Tears pouring without word

—if only the sights you could have seen

Or the roars you could have heard.

Helpless to even help him

As he flails without control—

All I can do is sob

And provide a mother’s hold

“What have I done that he would be

So different from the rest?”

Holding fast to promises

That this is for my best.

Give me strength O Lord above

To manage one so strong

I know you’re here with me

Even when the days are long.

Explosions come from nowhere

Sprawled out upon the ground

Fist against the floor in rage

For minutes without bound

“He’s darling,” “Not a problem”

“He’s happy as can be”

But why is that not my time

When he’s at home with me?

I know that Christ is working

In the moments I’m so weak

It’s just that in the here and now

The outcome seems so bleak

—But

Christ is strong when I am not

Each trial from his hand

And if no one comprehends I know

That Christ fully understands.

He’s made each one with intent design

For purpose I don’t know,

But He is faithful in each step,

No matter where I go.

O Lord my strength, please heal this boy

And give me eyes to see

That even if this pain lasts long

Like this forever it won’t be.

I love my son, You love him more

A tender Father in all you bring,

If this pain can help me trust

Then bring on all the things.

There’s joy in suffering You say,

Who hung upon the cross

So make me more like you my King

Even if this is what it costs.

(i originally wrote and posted on IG and Facebook january 19, updating and posting on blog february 3)