Really?!

"Then the LORD asked Satan,

'Have you noticed my servant Job?

He is the finest man in all the earth.

He is blameless--a man of integrity.

He fears God and stays away from evil.

And he has maintained his integrity,

even though you urged me to harm him without cause.'"

Job 2:3 NLT

Wasn't it enough?  Hadn't he faced ample suffering?  Did his faith need further testing?  Hadn't he proved himself loyal to God?

It sometimes seems like God is toying with me, pushing me beyond what is necessary.  The truth is, however, He has His good, unfathomable reasons (Isaiah 40:13-14).

Bad with the good.  My idea of a good life is where I am protected from suffering, hurt and difficulty.  If I really think about it, I want a little taste of heaven here on earth.  I expect the world to be the proverbial bowl full of cherries.  If this is true, then, in the words of Erma Bombeck, "what am I doing in the pits?"

Job understood God's sovereignty more than I do. He realized that letting God be God means taking the bad along with the good.  It means things won't go according to my plan because God has something bigger and better in mind.  Even His concept of bigger and better is far different from mine.  Assuming my life here on this fallen earth is going to be all good is a mistake.  

Where, then, is my hope?  If I can't expect all good all the time, what's the point?  My hope is in Jesus Christ and what He can do through the bad.  My hope comes from how He will use every bad thing to transform me into the image of Jesus (Romans 8:28-29).  My hope comes from the realization that this place is not my true home;  I have something far better to which I can look forward (Hebrews 13:14, John 14:1-3).

Walking with God by faith means taking the bad with the good.

Others tested.  She hurts so much she cannot sleep.  Her slumber is often interrupted by bouts of pain.  So great is her suffering that she cannot leave her home.  In the midst of such agony, her beloved cat dies in her arms.  How can she bear such heartache?

It is hard to see others suffer.  When those around me are hurting, it's sometimes hard to know what to do.  Part of me wants to comfort and encourage, another is ready to judge and fix.  How I respond shows where my heart is.

The heart of Jesus is to weep with those who weep.  When he encountered the deep mourning of Mary at the loss of her brother Lazarus, he was deeply moved, so much so that he wept with her (John 11:33-38).  This is our calling as His followers (John 12:15).

Does God sometimes allow suffering into the lives of others to grow the bonds within the body of Christ?  Is His concern for the strength of the church greater than His interest in my welfare?  Does He allow trouble to give opportunities for His family to come together?

Walking with God by faith means sharing in the suffering of others.

Lessons.  Until I saw it with my own eyes, I couldn't comprehend its height.  Standing at the top, however, and looking at the vista spread out before me, I gained a new understanding of how tall the Sears Tower was.  Standing at 1451 feet above the ground was similar to what it would look like to make it to the top of Mt Rainier in Washington state.  My respect for great heights grew that day.

God's ways are similarly higher than mine in ways I have a hard time comprehending.  I often think I can see what God is doing, or guess how He will operate, or assume I know in what way He will come through.  The reality is, however, that I have no idea.

I can't truly grasp God's superior sovereignty until I'm taken somewhere that goes far beyond my own ability to understand.  As I submit to His plan for my life, I gain a greater appreciation for His preeminence.  If I choose to fight His mysterious ways, I will go forward in anger and bitterness, questioning why a loving God would allow such suffering.  It all boils down to God having the right to do what He sees fit to do.  

Walking with God by faith means learning hard lessons about the sovereignty and supremacy of God.

It's hard to know why God allows suffering, especially when it seems I've endured enough already.  Living in relationship with Him, though, means I must let Him lead me through the valley of the shadow of death at times, trusting that He is with me.  I can learn to take the bad with the good, to respond in love to the suffering of others, and to realize His preeminence; I just can't expect to fathom His ways.  Then, when I feel like saying, "Really, God?"  I can instead say simply, "God."  I live in His world, so yes, really.

As I begin this day it is my prayer that I can give up my rights to direct my own life.

When do I assume God will never take me anyplace bad?

Why do I think I should be protected from suffering when the world is filled with it?