Why God Allows Bad Things to Happen

Freakin' Angel readers, many of you are familiar with the story of Ann Bates, Ann's Love Builds, and a newly opened medical center in Ghana with her name on it. It's been an amazing journey from the pain of loss to a celebration of Ann's life in the form of a place of healing. So appropriate given that Ann was called to be a doctor during her time here on earth.

I know Ann had a few friends who would describe themselves as atheists or agnostics, yet I heard from one of them that Ann's victory over cancer at three different times in her life nearly had her believing in God. But Ann's death can easily take non-believers back to square one, asking the question that even the most faithful Christians ask: "If there is a God, why do bad things happen to good people?" I'm not going to try to tackle that one on my own, and thankfully I don't need to because my friend Kim Graham, felt called to put into words:

"My Thoughts on Why God Allows Bad Things to Happen"
by Kim Graham

This week was a week spent in the shadow of hearing first-hand from my friend Theresa about the hospital being built in Ghana in memory of my friend Ann. And while there was great joy in having Theresa (and the entire team) arrive safely back at home, it also meant being aware - again - that my beautiful, smart (she was an ER doctor at duPont Children's Hospital for crying out loud), wonderful friend Ann - whose son Nick is the same age as Hope, isn't here to watch his lacrosse games, sign his report cards, spend her afternoons getting frustrated with him in some way or another and then lean over his sleeping head at night and give his forehead a kiss. (That's Nicholas in the picture, holding the soccer ball...and his new Ghanian soccer team that formed when he delivered soccer balls to each classroom at a school in Berekum in memory of his mom.)

So with that already in my mind, a bunch of other news found its way to my prayer list this week. I went with my husband to his uncle's funeral on Monday - a man who had suffered greatly and whose family is still facing heartbreaking challenges. A dear friend's father has had his (and his family's) world turned upside down within the past ten days with the discovery of a significant cancerous tumor. Another friend asked for prayer for a friend of hers - a dad in his 30s - who collapsed from a stroke and died. I spent my hair appointment giving condolences to my hairdresser (and friend) whose mom passed away just before Christmas. Finally, we found out this week that a preschooler our family knows has been diagnosed leukemia and is in treatment at the Children's Hospital of Philadelphia.

So yes, it was time for me once again to deal with the most asked theological question in all of history: why does God - who claims to love us - let bad things happen?

I'm not a theologian by any stretch. There are also people on my Facebook friends list who have dealt with trials and struggles and sadness that I can only imagine - and those hurts are very, very real. In the worst moments - the moments when the rest of the world has stopped and you have to remember to breathe and the minutes seem like hours and you're not sure what "normal" will look like ever again - in those worst moments, these answers are not going to be quick fixes. But when the time is right, and the heart is ready, they might be worth some consideration. So here goes (in no particular order and, to be honest, they kind of overlap with each other):

1) Love. Bad things happen because we love. Generally speaking, we think something is bad if it causes us hurt. If we didn't love, we wouldn't care and if we didn't care, we wouldn't hurt...and then nothing would be "bad." But nothing would be joyful either. Or hopeful. Or tender. Or sweet. Here on earth, one has to exist in order for the other to exist as well. Maybe God doesn't allow for bad things to happen. Maybe He had to choose between making us cold, unfeeling robots that merely existed but protected from all hurts; or creatures capable of great love and connection but vulnerable to any number of hurts. Which choice shows the greater love?

2) This isn't the world we were created to be in. This is my go-to answer for any number of situations. If you believe what the Bible says, our souls literally were not designed to function in the world as it is today. They are designed to flourish in Heaven - a place best described, I think, as the removing of the bad part of #1 and just having the good part. Being able to love and love greatly with the promise of no kind of hurt - ever. Think about that for a moment. Think about what it would look like if we all loved without the fear of hurt. Without the obstacles of the walls we built up to protect ourselves. Without the worry of rejection. Without having to ever say good-bye. Without ever being lonely. It is, truly, almost unimaginable.

3) When bad things happen, we get a glimpse of #2. I'm not saying this is WHY bad things happen, but if we choose to see it, we can see glimpses of the loving community in #2 when they do. Sometimes a tragedy happens and someone is forced to ask, "If God loved us, why would He let this happen?" It's an understandable response. But the other question could be "Why would God let this happen and leave me to suffer all alone?" God sends us comfort, if we look for it. I have seen it many times. Friends of mine go through situations that make me think to myself I would just crawl in my bed and never leave...but they are the first to say how loved they felt, or how cared for they felt...how they got a glimpse of the community we are promised in eternity. And while they would never wish for the tragedy to happen again, they are grateful for the blessings that come after it. Thank God there are blessings after it...because otherwise, life would truly be miserable.

In this life, we are all broken. We are all going to be broken some more. It's not an if...it's a when. The question for me has become not "why does God let bad things happen" but "how am I going to choose to be broken?" We can be broken like a dropped dinner dish. Sharp and shattered with no usable purpose. We can be broken like a car tire with a slow leak...we can still function somewhat but we're too broken to be dependable and broken enough to always be looking for some kind of fix. Or, we can be broken like a child's neon glow stick. The kind that are a sort of milky grey at first and you can't even tell what color they are going to be. The kind that have no purpose UNTIL they are broken. And not only broken - but shaken. That's when the light shines, when the color is revealed, when the purpose comes through.

Most of the parents I know would do anything in their power to protect their child from hurt. It's not uncommon to hear parents say "if it was only me who was sick" or "I would take a bullet for my child." It struck me as I was thinking through this that that's exactly what God did for us. He took a bullet - in the shape of a cross - to take away hopelessness. To promise us what is to come. To show how things are meant to be.

I have no idea if anyone will be reading this...it was more of a cathartic exercise for myself than anything else. I realize that there may be people who read it who don't believe the same thing I do as far as the Bible...eternity...what God has done for us. And that's ok. For me, though, this is the only way it makes sense. My prayer for all the families heavy on my heart this week is that their suffering isn't hopeless...and that miracles they never would have wished for and can never explain find them at every corner of their journey.

And that, somehow...someway...in the midst of their hurt, Beauty can be found.

Just like in Berekum, Ghana.

"Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us." Romans 5:3-5

A Bit of Perspective is In Order

I've been in a melancholy mood this week and really wanted to dump all of my issues on you. It makes for good reading (she says facetiously):

• My cleaning lady quit because I was a pain in the ass.
• My hair dryer died a violent death on Monday and I still haven't replaced it.
• I've had several bad hair days in a row.
• Upon noticing my increasingly gray hair, my son announced "wow, you really are old."
• I've caused trouble. Again.
• I have a zit on my forehead that could pass for a third eye.
• The neighbors have erected an ugly wire fence that I have to look at every time I pull in the driveway.
• My so-called friends figured out that I'm turning 44 tomorrow, when all this time I thought I was going to be 42 or 43, tops.

Now that I've put it all out there, the reality is that no one really cares about my issues. We all have our problems. I think what I need is a little bit -- or a big dose -- of perspective. So this weekend I'm going to drive more than nine hours to Banner Elk, NC where I'm going to spend a few hundred bucks for food and lodging and use a week's vacation to immerse myself in a reality that's quite different from my own; one in which cleaning people have no role and a fence is the least of my concerns for my neighbor.

One of the things that makes my church, Media Presbyterian, so special is its commitment to our neighbors -- both around the corner and around the world. Our members have traveled to Chester and Philadelphia and to Ghana and Liberia to make a difference in communities that need a helping hand. Western North Carolina has long been our family summer mission trip with youth and parents working side by side and the little ones taking on their own small projects and learning what it means to share the love of God by serving others. This year, 72 of us are making the long trek to work on two Habitat for Humanity builds, address the needs of of a couple other home owners, and bring a bit of joy to children living in a homeless shelter.

To be honest, I haven't gone on this NC trip in several years. The drive is too long. I didn't want to "waste" the vacation time. It just wasn't convenient. But this year, even before the church was rocked by the resignation of our senior pastor, I felt called to join my church family in Banner Elk. And in light of the painful reality of what has transpired at MPC and the rebuilding that is taking place, I think this mission trip is exactly what we need. Again, it's about perspective. If we return to our foundation of serving others, we will be reminded of why the church exists in the first place. We can take the focus off ourselves and put it where it rightly belongs.

So I'm going to serve next week. And I guarantee that on Day One I'll be asking myself what the hell I was thinking driving down here to work for someone else when I don't even like to do that kind of work for myself. I'll be whining about the heat or a chipped nail (hey, I just stopped biting my nails, so breaking one is going to be a big deal). The lodge beds won't be comfortable and I won't like the food. Ian will get sick and want to go home (the precedent is there). But I guarantee that by Day Three (I'm leaving some wiggle room in there by not promising Day Two) I'll be weepy when I count my blessings. I'll be hugging members of my church family (and even my children, if they let me) and tearfully telling them how much they mean to me. I'll even have gotten over my irritation with how slowly Cathie drove on the trip down.

If you too are struggling with those day-to-day issues that drag us down, consider doing something for someone else. It doesn't have to require a nine hour drive, but it does require your head, heart and hands, which ultimately sets you free, at least temporarily, from your own problems.

Awakening to Goodness at a Time of Loss

It's been a rough couple of weeks. On the morning of Friday, April 19, my Aunt Faify (Faith) was admitted to the hospital in critical condition after suffering what doctors assumed was a heart attack. That same day, my Aunt Glenna, who is battling leukemia, was told that chemotherapy wasn't working and doctors recommended hospice care. And then, that evening, when coming to the hospital with us to visit his wife, my Uncle Richie took one step into the lobby and collapsed, code blue. A dozen medical workers pounded on his chest, shocked his heart, and miraculously brought him back. If he hadn't been in a hospital when this happened, he would have died.

Two weeks later, Uncle Richie has had a pacemaker put in and was moved to a rehabilitation facility. My Aunt Glenna is holding on as best she can. And my Aunt Faify has found a new home in heaven.

I haven't known what to blog about during this difficult time. A comedic post seemed inappropriate (though laughter is exactly what we need now). A detailed post about the range of emotions we experienced felt too heavy. On Sunday during church, however, I got an idea from Pastor Nikki's sermon when she remarked that "the pools of kindness are drying up." You'll be glad to know I didn't shout it out loud, but my immediate reaction was "Nah ah!"

There's been a whole lot of tragedy in the world and a great deal of loss that I've experienced personally in recent years. And though my "Why, God?" has gone unanswered, I have found Jesus' words in Matthew 5:4 to be true: “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted…" I can also relate to Psalms 94:19: "When the cares of my heart are many, your consolations cheer my soul." My comfort and consolation are coming from those pools of kindness, and I see them everywhere I look. I wish it didn't require grief and loss to awaken us to the goodness in the world.

In the past couple weeks I have seen love and kindness in action, some of it in direct response to my personal situation, some of it just there waiting to be noticed:

• The "newlywed" couple at church still holding hands after 50+ years of marriage.
• The simple gesture of a husband putting an arm around his wife's waist, symbolically saying "I'm always by your side."
• An adult son bringing his cancer stricken mother to church in a wheelchair and throughout the service rubbing her back, adjusting the scarf on her head and smiling because being there with her and for her was bringing him joy.
• The unexpected kindness of a Villanova student worker wrapping his arms around my shoulders and hugging me when I received the call that Aunt Faify had passed.
• The love of friends who bring food, offer prayers and provide support in times of need.
• A four-year-old walking into a room to give his PopPop a hug and a kiss -- just because -- and then walking out again to return to his toys. 
• The kindness and care of a neighbor whose love sustains my parents through good times and bad.
• The commitment and love that brings a daughter home from Denver, twice in two weeks, to be there to support her mom and to say goodbye to a beloved aunt.
• The constant presence of a husband who let go of old resentments and is providing the unwavering support his wife needs during one of the most difficult times of her life.

Freakin' Angels, indeed.

And then there's my Mom. For the past several months she's been a source of strength for my Aunt Glenna. Taking her for chemo and blood and platelets. Letting her cry. Talking and laughing. Reminiscing. Just sitting together. My Aunt Faith and Aunt Glenna have been my mom's best friends throughout her entire life. Out of five sisters, they were the inseparable three.To say this is a difficult time for my mom, would be a major understatement. She had to plan her sister's memorial service because Uncle Richie was in no condition to do so. She has had to care for him as well. And despite being emotionally and physically drained, she never lost sight of the needs of her sister Glenna. Through it all, my mom has displayed incredible strength, resilience and unwavering faith. She has mourned and will continue to mourn her loss, but the love she feels for her sisters keeps her going.

Having never known three women with bigger hearts who give (and gave) of themselves so selflessly, I'm certain that this awakening to the love and kindness all around us is exactly what my aunts, and my mom, would want. The perfect tribute to each of these wonderful women.

I Finally Know Where I'm Going (for now, anyway)

For the past several couple months I have whined, complained, and pouted thoughtfully reflected on my life. More specifically, I've asked "What's next?" and "Am I living up to my potential?" I was becoming increasingly discontent with the path I was on, even though on paper there was absolutely nothing wrong with that path.

So I found a new job.

And the backstory is pretty good.

Over the summer I went on a resume-sending spree, primarily focusing on marketing and communication jobs in higher education. I've always wanted to work in a college or university setting. I think it would keep me in complete denial about how old I'm getting young. So, despite knowing full well that almost no one finds a job by haphazardly applying online for desirable career opportunities, that's what I did. It made me feel better. I could tell myself I was doing something.

At the same time I was making this half-hearted effort, I was struggling with my freakin' depression. It got to the point that I decided it was time for a little talk therapy. I looked up a doctor I had seen a decade ago.  Would you believe she went and died on me? Talk about inconsiderate. The next doctor I called kept me on the phone for 20 minutes trying to find a way to fit me into his schedule. Just when we had agreed on a date and time, he casually mentioned that he doesn't take insurance and he charges $140 an hour. My family doctor was of little assistance in recommending anyone and so I stopped looking. Figured I'd be fine without professional help. (Insert laugh here)

Then one day, when I had used up all my self-preservation and mental well-being reserves, I had an epiphany. An "A ha" moment. I decided to stop the frantic and useless job search (not a single nibble on the dozens of jobs I applied for), and concentrate on addressing the the crap clouding my brain. Figured if I could get my head on straight I would have a clearer sense of what I needed to do, where I might want to go, and how to get there. I also did the "at wit's end" shout-out to God, remembering that in Jeremiah 29:11 it says:

"For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."

I was looking for plans. Prospering is good. Hope and a future are excellent. And all that without harm? Bonus! With that, I handed my heavy heart over to the Big Guy.

Less than 24-hours later I was on the phone scheduling an appointment with a therapist when another call came in. I didn't recognize the number so I let it go to voice mail while I finalized my visit to the brain whisperer. When I checked my voice mail, this is what I heard:

Kim, this is Barbara from Human Resources at Villanova University. I am calling to arrange an interview with you for the Director of Communications job with the College of Engineering. 

God really likes to show off sometimes.

Three weeks after my call from Barbara, at 9:00 a.m. on a Friday I sat down for a three hour series of interviews with seven different people from Villanova.  At 4:45 p.m. they called to offer me the job. It's all terribly exciting and slightly terrifying.

In my next post I'll describe the stages of grief one experiences when leaving a place of employment that has been like home and family for elven years. It just wouldn't be a Freakin' Angel post if I didn't have something to be upset about, right?

I'm Mad as Hell

I do not count anger management issues among my many character flaws. But maybe I should make that past tense, because lately I've been angry a lot. In fact my chi is so outta whack I haven't even felt like writing for my stupid blog. See what I mean?

My anger may have been awakened by the spectacular collapse of the Phillies in the post-season. If they hadn't choked, I would've been in Texas last week, enjoying a nice juicy steak before rooting on the team at the World Series. Instead, I'm in Wallingford with a pain in my neck. Literally. The left side of my neck has been bugging me. I'm sure it would have felt fine if I was in Texas.

While we're on the subject of the Phillies, it ticked me off today to see Jimmy Rollins post on Facebook that he's psyched that the Series is going to game 7. Excuse me? I don't think the Phillies players should be allowed to even watch the Series, much less get excited about it.

And it's not just the Phillies I'm angry with. Parenting my kids is also making me crazy. Sometimes it feels so damn difficult that I just want to throw up my hands and say "You're on your own, kid. I have no idea what I'm doing here." And because I feel so overwhelmed and under-qualified, their mere presence can make me want to scratch somebody's eyes out. The other night, a dead laptop battery (the fault of a certain child) resulted in my throwing things and slamming doors. The only positive in that scenario was that I only threw clothing, nothing that could break. My anger apparently has financial limits.

Next on my list of anger targets? Book buyers. Specifically Christian book buyers. Where are they? Why aren't they buying really solid Judson Press titles? I'm doing everything in my marketing power to promote them and still the needle's not budging. What do I have to resort to, a naked clergy calendar? That might work, actually. If any of my pastoral readers are interested, let me know (but don't send naked pictures unless requested).

And what's with the freakin' government? Why, based on false assumptions, did we fight an unwinnable war that killed nearly 5,000 of our soldiers? Why do we take care of the world before we take care of our own citizens? Why am I paying into Social Security and Medicare when all signs point to it not being there for me when I retire? Why does it seem the whole system is going to hell in a hand basket and I don't think anyone has a clue what to do about it?

But Phillies, kids, book buyers, and the government aside, I think I'm mostly angry at God these days. It's new territory for me and it's not a good place to be. I'm angry at God because He continues to make life most difficult for those who least deserve it. Yesterday a colleague died after battling brain cancer for several years. He was in his early 50s and leaves behind three children. And my dear friend Ann, also a victim of brain cancer, continues to fight for her life while her husband and nine-year-old son can only pray. Truth be told, I'd like God to wipe out some of the bad guys with this cancer shit, and leave the good ones alone. He can tell the difference, can't He?

I guess I owe you an apology. I shouldn't have dumped all that on you, but I suppose it may help to get it off my chest. Just to be safe, it's probably best to keep dishes and glassware out of my reach for a while.

I'll try to be cheerier next time. Promise.