God's New Soldiers

Sabine Baring-Gould has been described as an “eclectic scholar.”  He was a minister, historian, amateur archeologist, and even song-writer.

He was one of the first to excavate and write about some of the ancient burial mounds in England.

His grandson William Baring-Gould wrote a “biography” of the fictional character Sherlock Holmes.  I read it years ago and had to keep reminding myself, “this isn’t real.” Though his book was fiction, William claimed his grandfather was Sherlock’s godfather.

I’m mentioning this rather colorful character because in 1864 Sabine Baring-Gould wrote a song as a processional hymn for the children in his parish in Yorkshire.  You know it as “Onward Christian Soldiers.”  In the 1871, Arthur Sullivan (of Gilbert and Sullivan fame) wrote a new tune for it and that’s how we know it.

For over a century, many Sunday school children have learned the words:

Onward Christian soldiers,
Marching as to war,
With the cross of Jesus
Going on before!
Christ, the royal Master,
Leads against the foe;
Forward into battle,
See His banner go!^[1]

That old hymn has fallen on hard times.  There’s a different attitude in the church today.   Just a few years ago, in the UK there was an effort to have the hymn banned.  If they had their way, the hymn couldn’t be played or sung in public.  It was, the critics claimed, too militant.  Some American denominations have taken it from their hymnals.

The hymn’s defenders point out that the military images are metaphors but concede that the forces of political correctness might not get that.  Apparently the hymn hasn’t been officially banned in the UK although a few vicars have forbidden its use in their parishes.  And the Constitution would probably get in the way of its being banned here.  Of course, Americans being Americans, banning it might mean some congregations would make a point of singing it every Sunday.

All the fuss over a hymn written in the mid-nineteenth century shouldn’t keep us from realizing that the picture of Christians as soldiers goes all the way back to the New Testament.

Christians are pictured as soldiers in several places in the New Testament.

Paul encouraged Timothy to live a life of discipline, sacrifice, and purpose, like that of a faithful soldier.^“Share in suffering like a good soldier of Christ Jesus.   No one serving in the army gets entangled in everyday affairs; the soldier’s aim is to please the enlisting officer.” ^[2]  The level of commitment expected of the Roman soldier was exacting.  The soldier’s term of service was usually twenty years, during which time he was not allowed to marry.  Of course, Christian service does not demand celibacy but Paul—who may have been facing death—wanted Timothy to continue the commitment he had already displayed.

He saw his co-worker Epaphroditus as a “… fellow soldier.”^[3]  We can imagine Paul the prisoner looking at the Roman soldiers standing guard over him and thinking, “Epaphroditus and I are very much like these soldiers.  We risk our lives to carry out our mission.”  They had fought together in the trenches; Paul understood they were engaged in a common battle. 

The lengthiest picture of Christians as soldiers is this passage in Ephesians 6:10-17.  Let’s review what Paul has to say.  [Please note, this sermon was previously posted  with a different title in 2012; I have reposted it here for the sake of continuity.]

As Christian soldiers we need to know our enemy.

Paul takes a moment to make sure we understand who the enemy isn’t.  Our warfare isn’t against those men and women who may oppose us.  We forget this from time to time.  This is why, when we speak of Christian soldiers, some think of the Crusaders or that strange band of soldier-monks the Knights Templar. 

Even though Paul expressly states our warfare is not against “flesh and blood” it is still easy to imagine that those who oppose us or disagree with us are God’s enemies.  That thinking is not only arrogant it is counter-productive.  Treating those who may disagree with us as enemies forecloses any opportunity to win them over, to persuade them to our viewpoint.

More important, casting our opponents as God’s enemies may prompt us to act in ways that will belie our claim to be like the Master.

What does this mean practically?

I don’t think the Christian soldier would bomb an abortion clinic or shoot an abortion provider.  These are actions of those who have forgotten the power of God’s love.

Of course, you don’t have to plant bombs at Planned Parenthood to be suffering from such amnesia.  It seems we are so intent of making abortion illegal we forget that through the gospel we have the opportunity to make it unthinkable.[4]

Don’t misunderstand.  Just because the illustrations I’ve just used seem to focus on what might be perceived as ultra-right wing behaviors, it doesn’t mean the Christian soldier who is on the left of the political spectrum is free to forget Jesus’ example.  That Christian soldier should stand ready to chide that candidate who mocks things held precious to fellow believers.  That Christian soldier should be guided by a code higher than the canons of political correctness.

Ultimately, the problem is not just on one side.

Here in the US elections have become volatile.  Our elections have always been lively but recently your morality, decency, and compassion have been judged by how you vote.  The left demonizes the right; the right demonizes the left.  It’s true the left and the right are sharply divided over crucial issues, divided in ways Democrats and Republicans have never before been divided in history, but a new element has been introduced. I no longer see my candidate as right and your candidate as mistaken; I see your candidate as evil and my candidate as messianic.

All of this makes us confused about who the enemy is.

Paul helps clear up that confusion when he says, “We wrestle…against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places.” He helps but maybe doesn’t completely clear it up.

Good Christians disagree about what he is saying.  Certainly, Paul seems to be suggesting that there are sinister forces at work in the world.  Some commentators believe Paul is talking about demons and have sometimes written books on the hierarchies of these hoards from hell, others believe he is talking about political and economic forces in the world and have sometimes used this to justify revolutions.  There is an element of truth at the core of both perspectives.  Paul seems to be saying Christian soldiers face powerful evil forces that have influence over every aspect of human experience.  As a consequence, the Christian soldier knows that much evil in the world can only be explained by pointing to a malevolent being that is more than human, has his own spiritual forces at his command but doesn’t hesitate to use humans in his work.

Don’t let me lose you here.  When Paul mentions “the devil’s schemes” it’s clear he is talking about Satan.  Before you relegate such ideas to the pre-modern world, remember Verbal’s words in The Usual Suspects, “The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist.”  

When the Bible speaks of Satan, it doesn’t speak of a being with horns and a pitchfork.  It pictures a “master strategist”[5] who uses fear, hate, pride, disunity, and ambition to trip-up men and women.  Often his schemes involve twisting the good into something evil.  His schemes are subtle and crafty. 

A pastor once slipped into the sanctuary to pray.  Not long afterwards, the music director stepped into the sanctuary and heard the pastor pray, “O Lord, I know I am nothing.” He prayed like this for a while and inspired the music director to join him and he began to pray, “Lord, I know I am nothing.”  This went on until the janitor came into the sanctuary to clean and he heard both men continuing to tell the Lord they were nothing. Moved by their humility he joined them and prayed, “Lord, I know I am nothing.”  At this point, the music director whispered to the pastor, “Now, look who thinks he’s nothing.”

This enemy can be very effective. 

                As Christian soldiers we need the resources God has made available to us.

Several times in recent years, we’ve heard reports that our troops in war zones have not had proper body armor.  Because of this lives were lost.  Let’s hope that is never again true.

Paul calls on us to “put on the full armor of God.”  The phrase is repeated to underscore its importance. The word “panoplia” is the source of the English word “panoply” which refers to “a complete set of arms or suit of armor.”

Paul wanted his readers to know the armor of God protects in whatever way we need protection. 

*                      We can testify to the effectiveness of the breastplate.  It protects the heart.  We need such protection because the battlefield is a place of temptation.  The righteousness that protects in this battle is not seen simply in what we do, it is part of who we are.  Not only are we to do right, we are to be right.  This righteousness is ours through Christ.

*                     We can testify to the effectiveness of the boots which give sure footing.  The Roman boot had heavy, studded soles.  It gave mobility yet prevented the foot from sliding on the battlefield’s rough terrain.  This is a multifaceted image.  In linking the boots to the “gospel of peace,” Paul is telling us that we can have a peace that allows us to face the most terrifying battles.   At the same time, remember the Greek words translated “the devil” means “the Accuser” and the Revelation calls him “the accuser of the Christians,” a reminder that he constantly wants to undermine our confidence.  The gospel allows us to negate his charges.  Finally, at peace in their own hearts, those “boots” allow the Christian soldier to carry that message of peace to the wider world.

*                     We can testify to the effectiveness of the shield that protects from the enemy’s assault.  The Roman shield could protect an individual and used to create a solid wall when standing with others.   The Christian warrior has a shield to extinguish the flaming arrows of the enemy, keeping those arrows from spreading wildfires of doubt, depression, dread, and despair.  That shield is our faith. 

*                    We can testify to the effectiveness of “the belt of truth.” The heavy belt worn by the Roman soldier held all his body armor together.  Paul’s idea seems to be that it guards our integrity.  If we claim to serve the Lord but live without integrity we won’t be very effective Christian soldiers.

*                     We can testify to the effectiveness of the helmet.  Paul may be thinking of the need for a sense of security in the midst of battle.  We have that in the full salvation Christ provides.

Until this point, we’ve been talking about protective armor.  But Paul also mentions a weapon for the Christian soldier.

As Christian soldiers we need an effective weapon.

The Roman soldier carried other weapons but Paul mentions only one weapon for the Christian soldier.  It is “the Sword of the Spirit which is the word of God.”  The term he uses refers to the short, two-edged, cut and thrust sword used in close combat.  Some of the imagery can be found in Hebrews.

For the word of God is alive and powerful. It is sharper than the sharpest two-edged sword, cutting between soul and spirit, between joint and marrow….

Generally we equate “the Sword of the Spirit” with the Bible.  I think that’s appropriate.  Wherever the church has been truest to the Bible it has been most effective in transforming society. The Bible allows us to show light to the misled, offer hope to the despairing, present salvation to the unbeliever, and reveal Christ to the curious.

Still, I think we might be able to offer a broader meaning to the phrase “word of God.”  Without granting any of these things the authority of the Bible, I think the “word of God” can be conveyed through the preaching of the church, the singing of the congregation, an evangelistic letter from a shut-in believer, and the verbal witness of the individual Christian.

The passage from Revelation I mentioned earlier seems to underscore the power of the church’s witness.  John depicts Satan being cast from heaven.  The account explains.

For [Satan] the accuser of our brothers and sisters has been thrown down to earth—the one who accuses them before our God day and night. 
They won the victory over him by the blood of the Lamb and by the truth which they proclaimed.[6]

 

This victory is linked to the death of Christ—the Lamb—who died for our sins.  When the Christian soldier testifies to this truth, the accuser is silenced.

As Christian soldiers we need to know we do not enter the battle alone.

In Baring-Gould’s song there is a great line that says, “We are not divided, all one body we, one in hope and doctrine, one in charity.”  Who was he kidding?  What church was he talking about?

At the time he wrote, the English church was divided between the established church and the free churches, the evangelicals and the Anglo-Catholics, and the evangelicals were divided between the Calvinists and the Arminians.  “Not divided,” indeed.

One of the saddest realities of church history is that Christian soldiers have long had a tendency to fight in the barracks.  We readily wound each other before we ever set foot onto the real battlefield.  It’s time we discovered where agree and stress our common ground, while learning how to disagree christianly.

If we do not, we cheat ourselves of fellowship and support from our larger Christian family.  The Lord’s Supper testifies to this larger fellowship, one that transcends our differences.

Note that Paul uses the word “We” when he speaks of our involvement in the spiritual battle.  All around us are fellow Christian soldiers—in the work place, at school, in the neighborhood.  All across the world there are Christians engaged in the battle:  In North Korea where Christians are fearful of the future, in the inner cities where storefront churches try to counter the impact of poverty, crime, and anger, on the campus where naturalism rules and short-circuits the call to consider God’s claims, in the suburbs where materialism makes us think having it all is all there is.

Wherever Christian soldiers strive, the war is one war.  World War II was fought in several theaters, but it was one war.  Paul is calling Christian soldiers to engage in this one war and to know we do not fight alone.

Nor is our Commander remote.  This passage begins “be strong in the Lord.”  The Revised English Bible renders it this way “find your strength in the Lord.”   That’s only possible as we stay near him.  When we Christian soldiers struggle against temptation, injustice, indifference, doubt, impiety, materialism, racism or anything else that would impede God’s Kingdom our Commander is with us.

Conclusion

In the mid-seventeenth century William Gurnall wrote a two volume study of this passage.  I haven’t touched on all he talked about.

But I’ve been successful if you go away appreciating your identity as a Christian soldier.  My purpose has not been to instill you with Christian jingoism that causes you to run roughshod over those who do not share your faith. 

I want you to know that you stand in a long tradition of men and women who have found an eternal purpose.

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^[1] Logos Hymnal. 1995 (1st edition.). Oak Harbor, WA: Logos Research Systems, Inc.

^[2] The Holy Bible: New Revised Standard Version. 1989 (2 Ti 2:3–4). Nashville: Thomas Nelson Publishers.

^[3] The Holy Bible: New Revised Standard Version. 1989 (Php 2:25). Nashville: Thomas Nelson Publishers.

[4]  The contrast between making abortion illegal and making it unthinkable is not original.  Although it is attributed to several writers, I first encountered it in an essay by Randall Balmer.

[5]  Scottish New Testament scholar, A. M. Hunter (no fundamentalist) wrote, “There is no metaphysical reason why the cosmos should not contain spirits higher than man, who have made evil their good, who are ill-disposed to the human race, and whose activities are coordinated by a master strategist.”

[6]  Revelation 12:10-11.

Thoughts About Statues

             Many say you would have welcomed him as a neighbor. “Christian” and “gentleman” were words often used to describe him. I would have liked him because his idea of a good life included endless fried chicken. He appears to have been a man of prayer, praying even for his enemies. If you were sick, it’s likely he would have gladly prayed for you; he was known to pray for sick and injured friends. Though he had reason to be haughty, he admitted he was “nothing but a poor sinner, trusting Christ alone for salvation.”

No less than Franklin Roosevelt said of him, “We recognize Robert E. Lee as one of our greatest American Christians and one of our greatest American gentlemen.” But, maybe FDR was just a tool of the conservatives.

In fact, some of his modern biographers challenge the old image of Lee, some even questioning whether he can reasonably be described as a Christian. Though he’s still portrayed as an American hero by some, others believe he was as racist and pro-slavery as any other Southerner. Some even insist his military prowess was a myth.

Lee was one of the Lee’s of Virginia. (Remember the lively song in 1776, “Here a Lee, there a Lee, everywhere a Lee, a Lee”?) Seems like his claim to be fighting for Virginia, not slavery, might have some merit. The claim he would have fought for the Union had Virginia not seceded I’ll leave to the specialists to debate.

But, I’m not going to defend him. Maybe his statue needs to come down. (I’ve never been a victim of racism, so I won’t deny those who have been the right to insist anything honoring one who defended slavery—the ultimate racism—has no place in America.)

Nor am I going to portray him as a devil. Just as he said of himself, he was “a poor sinner.” He was a creature of his age. So was my beloved pastor. I was fortunate enough to experience his ministry from childhood until I moved away to college. He taught me you don’t have to leave your mind at the door when you come to church; he was scholarly, caring, patient, funny, and racist. I will regret his racism but won’t deny the blessing he was to my life.

But let’s not dwell on Lee.  Let’s move on.  Let’s think about another Civil War general, Philip Sheridan.  He was one of the Union’s most effective commanders whose leadership helped win several important campaigns in both the western and eastern theaters of the war.  In fact, his performance at Appomattox effectively trapped the Army of Northern Virginia and forced Lee’s surrender.  During the war, Grant would say Sheridan was “one of the ablest of generals” and after Lee’s surrender would say, “I believe General Sheridan has no superior as a general, either living or dead, and perhaps not an equal.” 

During Reconstruction, Sheridan was given oversight of Texas and Louisiana.  He limited the voting rights of former Confederates and insisted black men should have voting rights and be able to serve on juries.  During the same period, he quietly (and possibly illegally) supported Benito Juarez in ousting the French from Mexico, helping make possible the nation’s liberation from European control.

After Reconstruction, he was once again posted in the west where he helped to protect Yellowstone from hunters who would poach its wildlife and those who would damage its natural formations.  In an era when few would stand up to the railroad interests, Sheridan joined others in opposing efforts to bring railroads into Yellowstone and selling off its land to speculators.  He helped save Yellowstone for later generations to enjoy.  The park’s Mount Sheridan is named after the general.

Five states have counties named for him; seven states have cities named for him.  A square and statue honor him in New York City.  Statues of Sheridan may also be found in Pennsylvania, Illinois, Ohio, and Washington, D.C and elsewhere, including Albany, N.Y, where his statue is in front of the state capital building. 

Sheridan Road leads into Fort Sill, near Lawton, Oklahoma, where the general supposedly uttered his best-known statement, “The only good Indian is a dead Indian.”  Oh, yeah, Sheridan was an especially effective Indian fighter.

That’s a lot of statues to take down.

You might say Philip Sheridan helped to end slavery.  You might say he brought shame on America.

You might say Sheridan’s legacy makes my point

Once Lee’s statues and maybe Sheridan’s come down , our attention may be drawn to other statues around the nation. I recently walked through the Texas capital building. There are statues of Travis, Bowie, and Crockett, among others. These heroes of “the thirteen days of glory” at the Alamo deserve to be honored; but each was flawed. Should those statues be removed? No. And that’s not just because I want to return to Texas one day. They shouldn’t be given the Disney treatment but neither should they be demonized.

Long before the Treasury Department announced Andrew Jackson’s image would be taken off the twenty-dollar bill I thought it was a good idea. I might have replaced it with a picture of Sequoyah, the visionary who taught the Cherokee how to write. Jackson may have been the first president born in the fabled log cabin and a champion of the “common man” but he also betrayed the Cherokees and sent them on “the trail of tears.”

Since I wrote the shorter draft of this post for my Facebook page protesters have begun to call for the removal of Christopher Columbus’s statue from its prominent location in Columbus, Ohio.  Speaking of Ohio, how about Les Wexner, the state’s wealthiest resident?  Among other businesses, Wexner owns Victoria’s Secret.  Should protestors insist Ohio State’s Wexner Center for the Arts change its name rather than honoring a man who objectifies women as sex-objects?  (Okay, the center is named for his father, but you get the point.)  Wexner is a noted philanthropist; he is generous with his money.  He builds hospitals, art museums, and other important works.  And, by the way, he's been honored by women's organizations.  Still?

I can say nothing good about white supremacists.  Nothing.  What happened in Virginia was wrong.  The violence of the perpetrators only shows the weakness of their case.  But tearing down a statue of a Civil War general proves nothing.  How you treat your neighbor, your coworker, your classmate, and so on is more important than your attitude toward statues you would have likely walked past without a second glance if there hadn't been a crowd.

Honestly, could any of us name ten heroes who will never have anyone object to a statue in their honor?  I sometimes think we could find those who would object to a statue of Jesus because of all those poor pigs he caused to be drowned in the Sea of Galilee.  As I’ve followed the debates on Facebook, it seems I have friends who are able to find “facts” to support their case for taking the statues down and friends who are able to find “facts” to support their case for leaving the statues alone. 

Now, I’m not naïve; some so-called “heroes” have nothing to recommend them. I would help pull down a statue of Adolph Hitler even if he did love dogs. But we still must face the truth: most of those we remember in marble and bronze are a mix of virtues and vices.

I could go on but this to stop somewhere—both my post and our attempt to exorcise any hero who doesn’t live up to our standards of perfection. Your heroes are flawed; my heroes are flawed. Our heroes are flawed—all of them. But we need heroes. We need people we can point to and say, “Be like them, only better.”

Accepting No Answer for an Answer

Alice Whitman was born 14 March 1837.  She was the first white child born in what would become Oregon.  Her parents, Marcus and Narcissa Whitman, had travelled across the continent to bring Christianity and medical care to the area’s Indians.  Like many other missionaries of the day, they sometimes confused Christianity linked with western culture but their commitment to God and their desire to bless the Indians was unquestioned. 

On Sunday, 23 June 1839, Alice drowned after going down to the Walla Walla River to fill her cup with water. Her parents were reading and unaware she had left the house.  The little girl, who was beloved by her parents and a delight to the local Indians, was just two years old.

Narcissa’s first impulse was to believe God had taken Alice because she and Marcus had loved the little girl too much and God would not allow any rivals for their devotion. However, Narcissa would later conclude God had taken Alice so she could devote herself more fully to teaching the Indians.

Across the continent, in New York City, Phoebe Palmer would lose three children, two in infancy and one as a toddler killed in a tragic fire.  She would also conclude God had taken her children because she loved them too much.

Why did these women come to this conclusion?  Did it reflect a strict Calvinism that perceives God micromanaging our lives?  In Narcissa’s case, was it easier to believe Marcus and she loved Alice too much than to accept they might have been careless in leaving her unattended while they read?  Did either woman ever perceive an alternative explanation for their loss, one suggesting we live in a world of chaotic events without purpose or meaning?

Might Alice’s death have been some kind of severe mercy?  A few years after the death of their daughter the Whitman’s would die in what has been described as “the most shocking missionary massacre in history.”  Had Alice been living, she might have died with her parents or been carried away a captive by the Indians, like Cynthia Ann Parker a few years later in far-off Texas.  Carried away to what some in her day would have called a fate worse than death.  If so, why weren’t Narcissa’s other children extended that mercy?

Narcissa Whitman’s ministry would come to an abrupt end; Phoebe Palmer would become the most influential woman in 19^th century American evangelicalism.  Was her loss intended to free her for wider service outside the narrow boundaries of her home? 

When faced with such tragedies, we want answers to our deepest questions.  But sometimes we are obliged to accept no answer as the answer to our quest to discover a rationale for what happens to us.

That’s tough and I won’t claim it’s easy to accept the situation.  We yearn to understand why things happen.  Sometimes that yearning goes unfulfilled.  Sometimes we seize any answer to escape having no answer.

New Orleans was being punished for its wickedness.  That was one of the earliest explanations I heard for Katrina, the hurricane that devastated a substantial area of the Gulf Coast.  Those offering that explanation stumble when confronted with pictures of churches destroyed by the storm, churches that had faithfully served the gospel and their communities for generations.

Such explanations for tragic events leave as many questions as answers.

Doubtless the Old Testament portrays God bringing judgment upon wicked nations but those explanations for the pestilence, famine, and war ravaging the nation were given by prophets whose insights were divinely inspired.  Few of us possess such insights.  I know I don’t.

The danger of attempting to declare the reasons for national tragedy are multiplied when we consider the personal tragedies faced by those around us.

Job’s friends looked at his condition and concluded there had to be “something” to explain what was happening to one so famed for his piety.  Of course, their explanation was hidden sin.  In this case the explanation was entirely different.  Job’s testing experience reflected God’s confidence in him.  Job was not without sin nor, as it turned out, the most theologically astute person around.  But he was the real deal.  Job of Uz was no hypocrite.

Ultimately, God did not let Job in on the backstory and, of course, had to let Job know some of his thinking about suffering was as muddled as his friends’ thinking.

But isn’t our thinking just as muddled when we assume some Divine machinations are behind whatever happens to us?

I know the question might prompt some to accuse me of denying God’s providence in our lives.  I certainly know God has acted on my behalf even when I was unaware of it.  And I certainly don’t mean to claim there have been events taking place in my life while God was looking the other way.  But neither do I mean God must have been directly involved in those events.

To what extent was God involved in my choosing to buy a Subaru rather than a Nissan after so many years of being happy with my Pathfinder?  Any at all?  Did he care?  Would he have preferred I buy American?  Whatever I have been driving, is it not likely God has kept watch over my passengers and me?  But is it not likely God has watched over me both by direct intervention in specific instances and indirectly by “fearfully and wonderfully” making me with an inclination to drive the speed limit?

That God’s providence has been at work in my life I have no doubt.  That God’s providence has been at work in your life I am equally certain.  That I can find every event in my life or your life programmed by God I am not so certain.  I am sure nothing has taken God by surprise; I am also sure God did not cause all the bead stuff in my life. 

I think this view is more defensible than any view demanding God be the author of every event in our lives—every event.  Years ago, I read an evangelical author who said the notion of God determining the tie I wear in the morning (I said this was years ago) was akin to paganism.

We might compare our lives to Huck Finn’s raft.  On that raft, Huck and Jim had freedom.  They could chew, cuss, fish, sleep away an afternoon, and do a number of things the adults back in town would disapprove.  But no matter what they did on the raft, the river determined where they were going.  Indeed, we might argue Mark Twain made the Mississippi as much a character in the novel as those boisterous boys. 

In the same way, we have freedom—God-given freedom—to direct our lives.  In practice, this freedom is far broader than what Huck and Jim had on the raft.  But our exercise of that freedom cannot thwart God’s plan for the ages.  Stalin and Mao could rage against the church but all their onslaughts could not overrule the promise that “the gates of hell will not prevail against it.”  We can choose align ourselves with God’s plan or we can choose to oppose that plan; both choices have eternal consequences.  As much as God might wish us to choose the former, I see no evidence of his hijacking our freedom.

I once knew a woman who had been taught to believe God ordered every event in her life.  Some years before I met her she had been assaulted while out jogging.  Well after this experience she was still expending emotional, intellectual, and spiritual energy trying to discern what God could have possible been doing.  How did such a personal violation fit into his plans for her life?  She never lost her faith.  But she never found an answer.

Might it not be better if she had blamed her attacker for misusing his freedom rather than imagining God to be the source of his heinous impulses?

On a larger scale, seeing God behind every event may lead us to assume our successes must reflect his endorsement.

In 1636, Puritans in Massachusetts waged a war against the Pequot Indians, a war designed to justify their seizure of Connecticut from settlers who had moved to escape Boston’s authority.  Even their Indian allies, the Narragansetts, believed the attack on one Pequot village was too violent.  Most of its residents—men, women, and children—had been burned alive.  Though acknowledging the attack made “a fearful sight,” Governor William Bradford “…concluded ‘the victory seemed a sweet sacrifice’ which God ‘had wrought so wonderfully for them.’”[1] 

These same Puritans regularly killed captive Indian children or sold them to slave holders in the Caribbean.  William Hubbard (1621-1704), longtime pastor in Ipswich, Massachusetts, and an amateur historian, believed their success in capturing these “young serpents of the same brood” to be evidence of “Divine Favour to the English.”[2]

Anne Hutchinson, whose crime remains difficult to define even after three and a half centuries, was banished from Massachusetts in 1638.  After her husband’s death in 1641, Anne settled in what would become the Bronx.  In 1643, Indians seeking revenge on the Dutch attacked her home.  Anne and most of her family were massacred.  Back in Boston, ministers exulted, believing this was God’s judgment on a woman who had “stepped out of [her] place” to defy them.[3]

By no means were the Puritans the only Christians who have interpreted tragedies befalling their enemies as God acting as their agent.  Surely the claim to see God at work must be made carefully. Perhaps, not at all.

I can’t erase the claims those Christians have made.  I can be careful in the claims I make.

As a pastor, I often ministered to those who had experienced tragedy or loss.  Sometimes I had to comfort those who were victims of men and women who claimed to know more than they could possibly know.  Armed with such knowledge, they confidently explained just what God was doing.  Repairing the damage done was a difficult challenge.  But, at the same time, I had to resist the temptation to offer my own explanation for what was happening in the life of the puzzled sufferer.

I once visited a young father in a hospital ER.  He had suffered a mild heart attack. “Why is God doing this to me,” were his first words when I walked into the room.  I took a deep breath and said, “Bobby, I don’t know.”  I was sorely tempted to say, “Bobby, you weigh 350 pounds and you think White Castle is gourmet food.”  Even when an answer seemed obvious I tried to avoid offering it.  Sometimes I failed.

As I’ve wrestled with the issue of suffering and tragedy in the lives of others I’ve become convinced easy answers give only temporary hope.  I also know asking “Why?” is wired into our make-up.  I don’t blame anyone for asking.  I know it’s hard to accept no answer as the answer. At the same time, I never want to call God’s goodness into question by attributing a tragedy to his activity.  AI always want to point the sufferer to God, the God who cares, the God who can empower us to go on despite the pain.

Above all, I want to remember that accepting no answer may reflect more faith than claiming to have all the answers.

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[1]  Colin Woodard, American Nations: A History of the Eleven Rival Regional Cultures of North America, New York: Viking Penguin, 2011, chapter 4, page 11.

[2]  Ibid.

[3] Read more about Ann in my book The Place Accorded Of Old: Questions About Women in Ministry, available from Amazon.