The Theology of Suffering & The Resurrection

             As Gary R. Habermas relayed the story of his wife’s death due to stomach cancer in his book, The Risen Jesus & Future Hope, tears stung my eyes and a knot formed in my stomach. His wife was 43 when she succumbed to cancer, the same age my husband was when he died from blunt force trauma. Habermas was very transparent as he shared his fears and doubts.[1] Through studying Job he discovered that Job’s real problem was his inability to understand the circumstances he was questioning.[2] This seems to be a common theme when considering the theology of suffering.

            The problem of evil has been a philosophical argument against the existence of God since Epicurus first formulated and classically stated the problem. Why would an omnibenevolent God allow suffering and pain in the world? What do believers do with the theology of suffering? The crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus Christ answers these questions and more.

            On Mother’s Day 2015, my children and I watched as their devoted father and my loving husband lost his footing and slid belly first down a granite slope until he disappeared over the ledge. He continued to tumble like a rag doll for over 100 feet until his head crashed into a tree stump and stopped his descent. When we reached him he was still alive, but it was only his brain stem that was still functioning as he moaned and thrashed around like a wounded animal. His skull was cracked and his scalp hung from the back of his head. We held him on a steep slope for over an hour waiting for the EMT’s to arrive, constantly in fear of our own lives, knowing there was 60 more feet to fall. When the EMT’s arrived they hurried everyone out of the area knowing it was too dangerous. They worked on him for hours, but as he was strapped to a board being lifted by a helicopter to the life flight crew, he died. Life would never be normal again.

            As we all struggled through post-traumatic stress disorder and the loss of our leader, the one question I asked God continually was, “Why? Why did he have to die in such a traumatic way? He could have died from a heart attack or a car accident—anything that did not involve my children being traumatized in the process.” God kept taking me to the Garden of Gethsemane, where Jesus anguished over what lay ahead. Then God took me to the flogging and the humiliation Jesus suffered in the hands of His tormenters. God reminded me, just as He reminded Habermas, that He had watched His son die a humiliating, brutal death and Jesus was only 33.[3] “I understand your pain,” God whispered to me in my despair and brokenness. I realized that God was the only one who could understand my pain perfectly.

            Why does God allow suffering? Vince Vitale suggests that it is because He desires to create a specific community of individuals, and suffering allows Him to obtain precisely that community.[4] In Ephesian 1.4-5, Paul tells us that God chose us before the foundation of the world to be holy and blameless and adopted us as His children. If we consider that God’s own Son learned obedience through suffering, how can we truly believe it should be different for us?[5] Philippians 2.8 states that Jesus humbled Himself and was obedient unto death. How can we hope to escape the circumstances of living in a fallen world? Through suffering we are transformed into new beings, and as we seek consolation in God’s mercy and grace, we are comforted.

My hope through all of this has been in the resurrection. Because Jesus bodily rose from the dead, I will see my husband again. I know where he is. Through Jesus’ suffering, death, and resurrection there is hope for all mankind. Although there are several reasons mankind suffers in the world, Jesus’ death and resurrection is the answer to them all. Something I wrote to be read at my husband’s celebration of life sums up how the crucifixion and resurrection are tied to the theology of suffering:

“Tragedy did strike our happy home. The bliss I have known, the love and the beauty of a fulfilled marriage, have been ripped from my hands by an incident too terrible for words. However even though I am completely broken, I am still blessed. God gave me the most exquisite gift, one forged through the flames and polished to a golden glow. I will never stop praising the name of the One who allowed me to know what it was to be Woody’s wife. Broken and blessed by the One who blessed me ultimately through His brokenness.”

            We will suffer in this lifetime. However, because of the resurrection our mourning will be turned to joy. I no longer view the trials we continue to face because of that fateful day in the same way I did before trauma marked our lives. I know I will never suffer to the point Jesus did, and I know I am never alone in my pain. Slowly, I am being transformed, as the dross is removed. God will continue to polish me until He is able to see His reflection in my life, and like it or not that requires suffering.

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[1] See chapter eight in Gary R. Habermas, The Risen Jesus & Future Hope (Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield, 2003).

[2] Ibid. 190.

[3] Ibid. 194.

[4] Ravi Zacharias and Vince Vitale, Why Suffering? Finding Meaning and Comfort When Life Doesn’t Make Sense (New York: Faith Words, 2014), 71.

[5] See Hebrews 5.8.

Racism

March 7, 1965, peaceful protests organized by nonviolent activists in defiance of segregation and to support the African-American’s constitutional right to vote began in Selma, Alabama. About 600 civilians made it about six blocks when law enforcement officials attacked the unarmed crowd with clubs and tear gas. Amelia Boynton, who organized the march, was beaten until she was unconscious. This event came to be known as “Bloody Sunday.”

Fifty-five years later we have made little progress. Peaceful protesters in D.C. were attacked with tear gas on June 1, 2020, as they marched in hopes of bringing about justice for people of color. How have we progressed so little? First, 55 years is not that long. If you look at the history of America and its treatment of individuals originating in Africa and the West Indies, 55 years equates to 0.03% of the time since slaves first arrived in Jamestown in 1619. The majority of their history has been lived in oppression—99.97% to be exact. Studies have shown that the emotional costs of racism can and are transmitted through generations (Hays & Erford, 2018). Considering this, how can you as an American of European descent be surprised by our brothers’ and sisters’ of color reactions to recent events?

It has been 55 years since Bloody Sunday, and African Americans are still being harassed and silenced by the majority of Euro-Americans. We don’t want to talk about racism because in our ignorance we want to believe it does not exist. White privilege allows a white person to believe such a lie. We want to sip our lattes in our hipster coffee shops in the suburbs and believe what is happening in our country right now only occurs in poverty stricken, urban areas of  the metropolis. We have black neighbors in our gated communities so we assume all is right with the world. “See,” we arrogantly think, “if you work as hard as I did you will have the same opportunities.” Wrong! Your black neighbor had to work twice as hard to succeed. You believe in the “Myth of Meritocracy,” which states all people regardless of ethnicity can succeed if they try (Hays & Erford, 2018). It is so easy for a white person to believe in such a myth. For you, the playing field is even. Wake up! Talk to your black neighbor and ask him to tell you his story in all its ugly glory. You will discover just how often he was silenced into submission and harassed all because of the extra melanin in his skin.

People, it is time to stop, listen, and do some deep soul-searching. Ask yourself where you have committed microaggressions against people of color. What implicit biases do you hold that you have been inadvertently acting on? Get involved with groups like OneRace that work to improve racial relationships and stop the oppression of people of color in this country.

I do want to say one thing. Not every person of color has the same experience. To say that they do is also a form of racism. However, many have suffered some form of racism, and injustice is injustice. I pray that some day our society can quit making judgments about people based on their skin color, their religion, their social economic status, or... the list goes on and on. Why can't we love all people as image bearers of a God who loves unconditionally?  I do believe change is necessary and if enough of us peacefully but emphatically push for social justice, I believe it can happen. Maybe not in my lifetime, but perhaps in my grandchildren’s.

Reference

Hays, D. G. & Erford, B. T. (2018). Developing multicultural counseling competence: A systems approach (3^rd ed.). Pearson.

The Five Year Mark

In three weeks we will cross the five year mark of Woody’s death. We have survived half a decade since that fateful day. At times, I feel like I’m still on Mount Yonah, trying to hold onto the man who completed my very being, begging God for his life. And at other times, I feel as if that day never happened. I still grieve—for my children more than myself, and for Woody’s parents and brother. Strangely enough, I rarely grieve for my own loss. Am I still in denial, waiting for Woody to return from a prolonged business trip? Or have I busied myself so efficiently I have no time to contemplate what Woody’s death has meant to me? I believe it may be the latter more so than the former. Since Woody’s death I have gone back to school and completed a second undergraduate degree and am nearly finished with my masters. I have single-handedly renovated/remodeled four houses and flipped three, written a book, finished homeschooling my two youngest children, started a grief ministry at my church, and have reentered the work force full-time. Am I avoiding my grief or using it constructively? Who knows.

What I do know is that every step of my journey I have walked in the arms of my Savior. There have been moments where I questioned His presence and felt desperately alone, but at the very core of my existence, I knew He had not abandoned me, nor would he. Yes, it is still a struggle. We are still battling the long-term effects of post-traumatic stress disorder and it is not pretty. I wonder if we will ever know life without suffering. However, I know even in the midst of my sorrow when my heart is heavy and the darkness looms, God is still good! And He will not leave me to travel this path alone.

So as we approach five years I will recall when it was five days and I could barely breathe. I will remember how I doubted my ability to survive. Yet, here I am by the grace of God, standing in awe of His ability to see us through such a harrowing experience and teach us how to live. Because of Him I am a better human being, someone who has learned how to walk through every day with praise on her lips realizing tomorrow is not a guarantee. Yes, three weeks will still be difficult, especially this year since May 10, falls on Mother’s Day once again. But I know the same strength and resilience that has brought me this far will continue to carry me through; and somehow I will continue to breathe.