So I have been reading the Psalms with a cynic sitting on my shoulder that digs its sharp little claws into my skin when the psalmists exclaim over God's comfort, nearness, mercy:
"I waited patiently for the Lord; he turned to me and heard my cry"
(maybe You haven't heard me yet?)
"For I will yet praise Him, my Savior and my God"
(but how do we praise what we can't find?)
"He rescued me from my powerful enemy, from my foes who were too strong for me"
(Maybe You just haven't gotten to my friend yet, is she next on the list?)
Why, when we need the solace of the Almighty most, do we seem to walk alone through the valley of the shadow of death?
Rabbi Harold Kushner came up with the conclusion that God in fact is impotent, in Why Bad Things Happen to Good People. That solution doesn't sit well with me. Scratch that off the list.
Another option is that God perhaps removes himself purposely, that we might learn to have faith. To a degree, it is certainly evident that we are purified and refined by suffering. However, I detest the idea that God might withhold Himself in our time of need just so we might toughen up. (Is that crass? There is probably some value to this line of thinking, but I still don't like it.)
Or perhaps it is our fault. Perhaps like the hardened Israelites, we fail to have eyes that see and ears that ear; we do not recognize the manna, the pillar of fire, the water from the rock. This has some merit. Humans have a history of blindness.
But still. When this friend tells me that faith seems inadequate to answer the deep questions of life and that God seems far away when she needs Him most, do I tell her it is her fault? Do I tell her God is teaching her a lesson? Do I tell her He actually cannot do anything to help?
I doubt Brother Lawrence intended his book title to help me answer my questions, but nonetheless, Practicing the Presence of God seems an apt description of how we might approach our suffering. If I take God's Word, written and Incarnate, seriously, then I must believe God is with us in the valley. If I believe that He was born as a man, crucified and resurrected, defeating sin, death and the devil... well, then. He is certainly there amidst the shadows. I am borrowing from Karl Barth when I say I think there is an objective Truth that God is near, even while we somehow subjectively experience His absence. So we practice. We practice His presence. We practice trusting. We resolutely cling to God-With-Us even though our circumstances indicate otherwise.
Rainer Maria Rilke writes in summary better than I can.
"So you must not be frightened, dear Mr. Kappus, if a sadness rises up before you larger than any you have ever seen; if a restiveness like light and cloud-shadows, passes over your hands and over all you do [...] You must be patient as a sick man and confident as one who is becoming well, for perhaps you are both."
-Letters to a Young Poet
