My mother-in-law, who turned ninety on the 28th of last month, had a fall at her home which resulted in her breaking six ribs. She is currently being cared for at a wonderful hospital in Boston, but addressing her pain, which is substantial, has proven difficult. If you were to visit her those first few days, you would hear her literally crying out to God in a loud voice; however, by all appearances, God did not reply. The extreme discomfort of those broken ribs (which cannot be immobilized) remained and the extreme fervency of her prayers (which could not be suppressed) remained unanswered.
My mother-in-law’s condition makes me think about all those who are crying out for relief – relief from the grief or anger of loss, relief from the pain or anguish of trauma and relief from the worries and doubts of the unknown – but relief does not seem to arrive. Is God silent when we seem to need to hear from Him the most? Is God distant when we have the greatest hunger for His presence? Is God uncaring when we long for the comfort that can only come from Him? By faith, I contend just the opposite.
Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God. 2 Corinthians 1:3-4
Let me be the first to admit that I would appreciate my mother-in-law’s relief from her pain. Let me also admit that I tend to be blinded by the blessings of God when burdens are right before me. The loudest murmurs I hear are those of distress, but also present are the beeps of monitors, the hums of IV pumps and the voices of caring health professionals. My mind plays out a number of other sounds as well: the ringing of an unanswered phone which triggered concern in a daughter’s heart, the sirens of an ambulance that brought needed assistance to a woman in need and a lecture in a medical/nursing school that equipped the doctors and nurses at the hospital to provide expert care. These, too, are answers to prayer.
God is not silent, or distant or uncaring. He is speaking in our circumstances, even in the pains that are not fully relieved (which might be teaching us what we ought to avoid). He is close to us as we undergo the troubling conditions relating to our shared human nature. He cares for us, so much so that He endured every indignity that comes with life on earth and conquered everything that causes permanent damage – sin, death and damnation. While I would like the symptoms of this fallen existence to fade into solely painful memories, I accept that God usually comforts us in less obvious ways.
The good news is that Jeanine’s mother is slowly improving and pain killers are alleviating some of her discomfort. I pray that God, in time, alleviates the remaining difficulties. It is unfortunate that it takes pain to cause most of us to cry out to God. It is truly fortunate that He hears and cares, even if we cannot sense it.
This morning we will be attending the funeral of my brother-in-law, Stephen V. Silva. Last Friday, in the early morning hours, Steve lost his battle with cancer at the age of fifty-four. He was a wonderful son, brother, husband, father, uncle and grandfather. He was a good man and he will be missed – he was warm and loving, considerate and caring toward those around him. Today is a day of great sorrow for all those who knew Stephen. There is a small bit of solace in knowing that his physical suffering, ever increasing for the last thirty-seven months, has ceased.
A few months ago, I wrote that the three toughest words I am forced to utter are “I don’t know.” Occasionally, I feel the need to defend God – when tragedy strikes or suffering comes to call – from the charge that He is unloving or uncaring or unfair. Honestly, especially on a day like today, I am immensely inadequate to the task. I cannot explain to my mother-in-law why she is called upon to bury a second child. I cannot give reason which makes sense of this loss to my sister-in-law or my wife. I am at a loss to rationalize why some cancers enter remission and others do not. I simply do not have all (or even most of) the answers.
I do know that God comforts those who mourn. There is not a single tear that falls from a single cheek that He is not mindful of. While I cannot explain the problem of pain, I am certain of God’s promise to be near those who are sorrowful.
I do know that God promises an end to suffering. There will come a day when all things will be made right and sin, death and disease will vanish. While I cannot tell you when the pain will cease, I do know that God promises it will.
I do know that God has conquered death through His son. All those who trust in Jesus as Lord and Savior will never truly die and we will see them again in glory. I cannot state with certainty when death will be ultimately vanquished, I know it will happen.
And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Look! God’s dwelling place is now among the people, and he will dwell with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. ‘He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death’ or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.” Revelation 21:3-4
Today, Stephen’s family, co-workers, neighbors and friends will share in their collective grief. Tomorrow, many tears will be shed. For many days ahead, the pain of loss will be palpable. I trust that God will be with those mourn and, eventually, there will be a sense of ‘new’ normalcy. Until that day comes, I ask for your prayers for my wife’s family. I ask that you’d remember Bohuska, Stephen’s wife of over 30 years; Michael, Anthony, Stephanie, and Jonathan, his children; Lilly, Gionni, and Sage, his grandchildren; Pauline, his mother; and Natalie and Jeanine, his sisters.