A God Who Draws Near in Grief and Despair
Magdalene, 2nd Congregation
I was exposed to the gospel at a young age. I knew that we were deserving of God’s wrath, and Jesus the Son of God died and rose so that whoever believes in him will have eternal life. Yet, I could not grasp how this was good news.
My idea of God was influenced by my lived childhood experiences with authority figures who demanded my obedience to them without question and meted out punishment when I did not obey. That fear for them translated to how I viewed and feared God for his wrath and judgment. To ensure his wrath was not incurred, I often uttered prayers to repent of my sins. Yet it was futile. I constantly felt I was under his hand of wrath in the circumstances I was in – the constant explosions of physical and verbal exchanges at home, and friends and loved ones battling with mental health issues (some attempted and completed suicide). These eventually drove me to despair, as I struggled to understand who God is and his sovereignty. If he was in absolute sovereignty over lives and could do whatever he wanted and goodness was whatever he wanted it to be, this indeed proved he was too dangerous to believe in or even be near to. And so, I ran away from him as far as I could and sought refuge in my own knowledge, social connections and ability to plan out my life. While they proved to be unreliable, I continued to hold on to them.
During my university years, I lost another good friend to illness. In my immense grief, I blamed God and threw accusations at him. All I heard was silence, and I thought I won the argument. It just proved who God was. But what happened next? There came into my life a group of Christians who pursued me even when I was hard to love and only offered them bitterness and anger. They did not once condemn me, but pointed me to the commonality that we had as sinful and broken people – no matter what we did, we could never save ourselves. It did not stop there. They showed me that God did not stand aloof but entered this sin-stained world in the person of Jesus, walked through ridicule, rejection and suffering all the way to the cross where he the perfect one was sacrificed for our sins, so that we can now come, no longer condemned but accepted as his children. This was not the God I thought I knew.
There was a hymn that moved me. It was When I Survey the Wondrous Cross. One of the stanzas goes: “See from his head, his hands, his feet. Sorrow and love flow mingled down. Did e'er such love and sorrow meet? Or thorns compose so rich a crown?” My heart was overwhelmed by God’s relentless pursuit of love for the world and even for me. I stopped running away and surrendered my life to him in repentance of my sins and in awe that I am called his child. That fear I once had is now replaced with the fear of God that frees me to run to him and trust him to be everything I need.
Well, my circumstances may not have changed - family is still messy and broken and there is still pain - but God has shown that if I keep my eyes on the pain of my wounds, I will only see myself wounded. But when I look at the cross, I see the wounds of Jesus and remember that his love and grace runs deeper, his death and resurrection promises that there will be this glorious day that all of us, broken as we are, will be restored and healed. Now, in part, but in full when he comes again. Until then, I know his sovereign grace that brought me to him is the same grace that will lead me faithfully to the end. He is indeed my living hope.