"...a lot of things are difficult right now; I wouldn't have chosen life to be this way."
Earnestly swung my legs off the chair his arms hung over the back of, leaning in.
Does proximity makes words truer?
"But God is intentional in our lives, and this, all of this," I opened my arms wide, "has a purpose."
I spoke of broken dreams, tattered expectations-mine-bravely making the last vestiges of an exit. Studies analyzed us millennials; handed us our diagnosis, matter-of-fact. As if you can fix broken by assigning a cause.
The prognosis?
Grim.
We own sky-high stress and depression levels due to our sheltered upbringing and unreasonable expectations of life.
And who's to say they're wrong?
We were assured we deserve a nice job--son, you can even be the president if you want to!--a solid marriage, a nice family, a nice life, just by virtue of existing. Our parent's generation toiled, so we wouldn't have to. This is our right.
Expectations are high for us.
After being promised free lunch was going to be provided, we're spit into a world where truth that has always been truth is still true.
There is no free lunch.
And if you don't know how to handle disappointment and heartbreak, if you don't know how to work hard and build high and see it all wiped out in a millisecond of disaster, if you don't know how to stoop at the shattered pieces to start rebuilding, you're in for one crash course after another. No wonder we're depressed.
His gaze was intense, expressionless concentration. It unnerved me slightly. He had pretty brown eyes.
Cautiously, deliberately. Arms crossed on his chest, keeping something out. Or in.
"I...agree. God is intentional with us."
Leaning backwards against the silent piano, staring at the floor a few inches to my right, as if it would vomit answers. When he spoke, his voice didn't shake, but beneath steadiness I saw a well-worn struggle.
Eyes finally met again, not-so-successfully shuttered. His tone an attempt at an unaffected mood, but those eyes doubted.
Instantly, I was delivered to my earlier statement, a fresh dilemma I knew was gaping unanswerable.
If God is intentional in our lives, it means He's intentional about our pain
Which presents the good ol'-Jeremiah 29:11-Jonah in a cozy fish belly-Anglo Jesus on a felt board Christianity-with a p-r-o-b-l-e-m.
Surely, God could have prevented Sandy Hook, whose haunting anniversary today drags up memories we'd rather forget.
And typhoons.
And God can prevent thousands of other examples that you can drag, trembling, to the front, and beg someone to make sense of.
"The earth is the Lord's, and the fullness thereof..."
Psalm 24:1 is our accusation, we slam the gavel down in despair. If He can do something, and doesn't, well then....
There's a term, "the hand you've been dealt".
Let's clarify. We weren't dealt anything but Eden. Infinite abundance. Shalom. The hand we were dealt was perfect.
We did this. We didn't play by the rules. We still don't.
I hit you, you steal from me, he shoots them, they hate, she's vindictive. Free will causes all sorts of problems because it's....free.
Life is broken, surely, but not because God broke it.
Perhaps our expectations of God are wrong. Perhaps we have forgotten Jesus was a suffering Savior, not a victorious manager.
"During the days of Jesus' life on earth, He offered up prayers and petitions with fervent cries and tears to the One who could save Him from death, and He was heard because of His reverent submission. Son though He was, He learned obedience from what He suffered." Hebrews 5:7-8
Did you catch that? Jesus struggled. He petitioned God, He cried. He was submissive and faithful.
He was heard by God Who could have saved Him.
And then?
He suffered.
And through suffering, He learned obedience. He learned obedience to death. Remember what He got for obedience?
A cross. A humiliation He didn't deserve, and an agony His life never earned.
And now we stand, claiming to follow Him closely and yet so affronted by His lifestyle. In one breath, praising His defeat of death that declares we are pilgrims on our way to the homeland, in the next breath mutinous at God's allowance of these momentary, light afflictions that achieve eternal glory for us.
We've crowded behind verses we've misconstrued, and formed opinions of God that are not Biblical, and we honestly believe them. We are consumed with our own comfort, so much so, that when real life happens, we are unable to cope, to deal, to suffer well in Christ's footsteps, too busy letting God know that He's really dropping the ball
Who are we, to expect anything less than Jesus Himself was given by the Father?
Perhaps the path to eternal life is more narrow than we thought.
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