Is God Really Good All The Time?

Sunday has always been a special day to me.

For a lot of us, it brings up memories of growing up going to church, or having a regularly scheduled lunch with family or friends. Maybe it takes you back to that feeling of easing into a pillow, stretching out on a couch, and dozing off in the first quarter of the afternoon football game you really didn’t care about anyway.

Photo Credit: amanda tipton, Creative Commons

For me, it brings up years of memories of being with family, sitting around a table with a full belly and empty plates; laughing so hard until my stomach hurt. 

June 12, 2011 was a Sunday.

The day Jacob, our three year old son, passed away. 

Our family had gone to church together that morning and then Jacob and I went to eat lunch. He and I headed home while the girls stayed at church to help with VBS. We went through our nap time ritual. Like many toddlers, he wasn’t ready to go to sleep, but it was time.

We talked a little while in bed and then I got up and went and laid down myself.

While I was asleep, he got up from his nap and went outside without me knowing. At 5 P.M., Brea and I found him in our car, unresponsive. 

From that day on, Sundays became a brutally tough day. From the time we got up we would be stuck in a loop, replaying the events of the day. Hour by hour, I would visualize and remember where I was and what I was doing. The closer it got to 5 P.M., the higher the anxiety level would get.

When it turned 5 P.M., I was transported back to the scene.

We find him and open the back door of the expedition. I pick him up. I remember what he looks like and then what it feels like to do CPR. It’s so hot outside. I can remember all the sounds that contributed to what felt like pure chaos all around our house.

It’s 5 P.M. on Sunday and I’m back in it all over again.

Would I never have a normal Sunday again?

After June 12, 2011, my faith, theology, and understanding of God started breaking down with each day. Throughout my life, my faith was built around a theology that worked in the context of my life experience.

For example, I believed God was totally sovereign, good, and loving even though the world is full of evil, pain, and innocent suffering. For ages, humanity has wrestled with this issue. How “in control” or “interventionist” is God when there is so much pain and suffering? In the context of my fairly comfortable life with little heartache or struggle, I hadn’t been forced to face this paradox.

Now I wondered, “If God is totally in control of everything that happens, then isn’t God ultimately responsible for the death of Jacob and the way he died? Even if I say God allowed this to happen but didn’t cause it to happen, isn’t He still to blame, because He could have done something to prevent it?

Is God really good all the time?

Over time I did start pointing the finger at God and blaming Him. My anger towards God grew as the months went by. I prayed for God to give me peace and to help me with my faith.

But all I experienced was silence. That made me even more angry.

So, I stopped praying altogether.

Going to church didn’t help either.

I found myself getting angry listening to sermons about how God loved us or had a plan for all of our lives. I didn’t feel very loved. And, I certainly didn’t think it was God’s plan for Jacob to die at age 3. One Sunday after another, I walked out of church not wanting to ever go back again. As the months went on, my faith continued to break down and a new set of questions came up.

“Do I even believe in God anymore? If I do believe in God, how do I find a faith that makes sense of a loving God, who may or may not intervene in this world, after what happened to Jacob?”

Over time, we did begin to heal.

We decided to make Sunday a day of the week to have friends and family over for dinner. This was how we were going to reclaim, or redeem, that day of the week. Instead of being alone to experience those devastating memories of Jacob,we were with friends and family.

Instead of letting the house be filled with grief and sadness; we welcomed laughter and community.

Instead of being stuck inside our own heads; we forced ourselves to move, to cook, to talk, to laugh, and to cry.

Consequently, the sting of the day faded over time and we weren’t paralyzed at 5 P.M. on Sundays anymore. 

I also needed to redeem my personal faith.

My faith needed to be something I could work with in light of my experience.

The faith I had constructed before fell short when I needed it most and left me feeling incredibly disappointed. Over the last five years, I’ve slowly tried to rebuild what faith looks like to me. It is different and I don’t have all the answers I wanted. But I can say that I have at least found a foundation from which to start.

I do believe in God. And, I believe God is first and foremost operating from a place of love. I know this faith stuff is a life long journey, so I don’t pretend to have it all figured out.

But with baby steps, I feel like I’m moving in a good direction. 

If you’ve had something devastating happen to you, and you’re wondering if you even believe in God anymore, here is what I want to say to you:

It was important to us to not let this turn us into a victim of our pain.

As we look back over the last few years, redemption has been a big piece our story. Redemption of what happened and redemption of the pain and suffering our entire family has experienced.

The reason we started working with and supporting orphans, why we want to share our story with others, why we make a daily conscious effort to choose to find the good in life rather than dwell on the bad, the reason I’m writing about “Redeeming Sunday.

Don’t let your pain turn you into a victim.

By looking for ways to redeem your suffering, you can lessen the power it has on your life. Use your circumstance as fuel to do good for others. It will help you heal while you are helping others. (Not sure if the last sentence is necessary or if it can be worded better?)

I believe it’s okay to question or doubt God.

I wasn’t able to find a path towards peace with God until I gave myself the freedom to let go of the God and beliefs I had built up in my mind before Jacob’s accident and start over.

For church leaders and friends of those who are struggling: don’t feel like you have to rescue us from our questions. We need to have communities of faith where our questions and doubts are welcomed without judgment. Otherwise, you risk alienating those who need the grace and mercy Jesus speaks about when they need it most.