On June 23, a small wildfire started in Waldo Canyon, just west of Colorado Springs. In just a few short days, the blaze spread up and over the Front Range and into The Springs, forcing 32,000 residents to flee in her oncoming wrath. As of this morning, over 18,000 acres and 347 homes are lost. It is the worst fire in the state’s history. For the past week, my wife and I have watched the story unfold, viewing countless pictures online, many of which look more like an apocalyptic movie set than real life. And, we’ve joined thousands praying for divine intervention; for God to send rain, calm the high winds and provide cooler temperatures for this draught stricken land. Finally, a couple of nights ago, the weather changed, the winds died down and the firefighters gained control over the blaze. This atmospheric alteration gave rise to a multitude of voices praising God for his divine intervention. “God has completely changed the weather in COS”. “It’s a miracle”! “Thank you God for sending rain”! Well, did he, or did a cold front simply move in off the Pacific? I can almost hear Zophar, Bildad and Eliphaz. We are foolishly quick to speak on behalf of God when the weather converges in our favor, but we are strangely silent when this omnipotent being allows us to suffer in the first place, though prevention was plausible. Is it not just that we hold God to account? Do we even dare? If we are quick to praise God for providing relief, can we not also beg the question, “where were you when this whole mess started”? After all, we are talking about the God of the universe, the one by his own admission controls creation…
“Where were you when I laid the
foundation of the earth? Tell me, if you
have understanding.
5 Who determined its measurements—surely you know!
5 Who determined its measurements—surely you know!
Or who stretched the line upon it?...
8 “Or who shut in the sea with doors when it burst out from the womb,
9 when I made clouds its garment and thick darkness its swaddling band,
10 and prescribed limits for it and set bars and doors,
11 and said, ‘Thus far shall you come, and no farther, and here shall your proud waves be stayed’?
12 “Have you commanded the morning since your days began,
and caused the dawn to know its place…
25 “Who has cleft a channel for the torrents of rain and a way for the thunderbolt,
34 “Can you lift up your voice to the clouds, that a flood of waters may cover you? 35 Can you send forth
lightning, that they may go and say to you, ‘Here we are’?[1]
8 “Or who shut in the sea with doors when it burst out from the womb,
9 when I made clouds its garment and thick darkness its swaddling band,
10 and prescribed limits for it and set bars and doors,
11 and said, ‘Thus far shall you come, and no farther, and here shall your proud waves be stayed’?
12 “Have you commanded the morning since your days began,
and caused the dawn to know its place…
25 “Who has cleft a channel for the torrents of rain and a way for the thunderbolt,
34 “Can you lift up your voice to the clouds, that a flood of waters may cover you? 35 Can you send forth
lightning, that they may go and say to you, ‘Here we are’?[1]
And herein lies the tension, which underscores my severe
lack of faith. God proclaims his
complete dominion over the created order, yet evil, death and destruction are
still very much a part of reality. I
don’t understand. Simple, pithy, clichéd
religion won’t do when you’re city is burning.
Thankfully, we join a great cloud Of witnesses who also had difficulty
comprehending and believing God in times of travail. Even Jesus’ closest friends found it arduous to
fully realize the tension between living in a fallen world and worshipping an
all-powerful God.
And leaving the crowd, they took him
with them in the boat, just as he was. And other
boats were with him. 37 And
a great windstorm arose, and the waves were breaking into the boat,
so that the boat was already filling.
38 But he was in the stern, asleep on the cushion.
And they woke him and said to him,
“Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?”
39 And he awoke and rebuked the wind and said to the sea, “Peace! Be still!”
And the wind ceased, and there was a
great calm. 40 He said to them, “Why are you so afraid?
Have you still no faith?”[2]
No, I’m
afraid I don’t. I want to believe, but
why do you make it so hard? Who is this
that even the wind, sea and flames obey him?
And why are you sleeping when we need you most? I still don’t understand. I want answers. Forgive me Jesus, for my incredulity. It’s hard enough to find the faith to ask for
daily bread, much less to trust you as our city burns. Do you even remember when you lived down here,
or did you forget about us when you flew away?[3] Nobody has seen you in two thousand
years. We are tired, we are worn and we
are scared. And though we still argue
our ways to you, we pray for the faith to join Job in proclaiming, “Though he slay me, I will hope in him.”[4]
Lord Jesus, I
believe; help my unbelief.
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