I read about pain and suffering and tragedy, all in the comforts of a typical suburban American home, while scrolling through the Wall Street Journal on my Macbook, feet resting on plushy cushions, chips near at hand. I can walk across the room to a fridge packed with food or open my closet to a myriad of different outfits.
Suddenly I look at everything, and I cannot believe that I live among the lucky few, while millions are living in pain and suffering and hardship. It seems hypocritical to read about India's caste system, where untouchables earn less than $4 a month cleaning out latrines and shoveling out human excrement, and then later spend $4 on a Starbucks drink. It saddens me to contemplate the raping and killing and brutality carried on by Boko Haram or the Islamic State. Such brutal murder and anger and fear throughout the world, such trauma as people are beheaded and killed for their faith, as families flee from all they know, all they hold dear.
And here I am. Typing on my Macbook, indecisive over today's outfit or lunch, worrying about PSATs and subject tests and getting all my schoolwork done.
In times like this, when I feel so useless and hypocritical and monstrous in this safety and comfort and wealth, when I ask the whys and I cannot understand the seeming contradiction, I pray. The only comfort I can rely on on this earth comes from above. And in dark times like this, I am led to the Rock that is higher than this storm of havoc and destruction, and I am comforted by God's attributes. In this pain, in these horrific circumstances of death and suffering, He is sovereign and He is good.
He is sovereign.
And I stare at those three words until they can penetrate into this thick skull of mine, until they form a picture of God wielding the conductor's wand, holding the painter's paintbrush, molding the clay. The earth is His footstool. He is in perfect control. All this pain, all this destruction is part of His plan. Nothing happens outside of His control, not even all this.
In fact, I know how this story ends. It ends in a fantastic display of God's goodness and holiness and justice, where all tongues from all nations will bow down in worship and recognition of who God is. Just like the cliche action novel, before the author concludes his tale, things seem dark and unreasonable. It seems impossible that the hero or heroine will ultimately escape from all this madness and things will be made right. Yet, at the end of the novel, all is well and everyone lives happily ever after. In the same way, we already know this story has a good ending. This evil in the world will pass and fall away, but my God will reign forever on high where there is no pain, death, or sorrow.
And so I trust Him. I delight in His sovereignty and supremacy and control.
Even though news headlines are hard to reconcile, even though I cannot understand why these awful things are occurring, I know and believe and recognize God's hand above it all. There is a reason for this madness. And because this is all part of His plan, because I can see the magnificent conclusion of this story, I trust Him.
God is just.
My heart cries out for justice when I look at pictures of murdered civilians, when I see the faces of families fleeing their hometowns, or when I see the corruption in the world and how the rich thrive on top of the bones and blood of the oppressed. In these moments, when my passion spurts out in red flames and I cannot hold within me the anger directed at these men with guns and knives, I recognize that God is just, and justice will be delivered to each individual.
Justice.
That word brings me to terms with my past. For I deserved death. I deserved a living, eternal, forever kind of death. I was no different than these murderers. My heart was just as black as these killers and the people they murdered. I was once one of them, and only by God's grace did Jesus regenerate my broken heart. I have received grace. Yet who am I to hate other sinners when I was once like them?
I demand justice. Yet, do I truly know what I'm asking for? Because justice would require an extermination of all unbelieving human life, including my agnostic or atheist friends alongside Islamic terrorists. Which leads me to a recognition of the importance of God's patience and timing, as well as His justice. Not only do we serve a just God, but we serve a patient God, who desires that people come to know Him.
Justice will come. In the meantime, I wait with Him, for the predestined to repent, for His children to believe, and for all to bow one day before His throne.
God is good.
This sin and death and misery is because of us. We fell into depravity. Our hearts became desperately sick. We rebelled against our Creator, and because of our rebellion, pain and death and suffering came into the world. The evil in this world is a result of sin, not a creation of our Heavenly Father.
In fact, He sent His one and only Son, so that those who believe in His Name and surrender their lives to Him may have life. Instead of passively allowing us to remain trapped in this dark world, Christ unlocked the cage. All we have to do is to simply accept the cage is open and jump out. When we acknowledge and worship Jesus as Lord, when we repent and turn from our sins, we can be truly free. Because of God's free gift, because Christ died so we have a way out of this dark world, we can live life here on earth with rich spiritual blessings and the hope of an eternal life with the King.
And so, though headlines and newspapers may shake my emotions, I know and believe and delight in the fact that my God is sovereign and just and good. Even though I don't understand, though I may never understand the height and depth and width of God's ways, I trust Him. He is faithful. The best is yet to come.
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