I am a Christian and I love God. Yet I have gotten cancer three times. How can I still believe God loves me? Yet I do. Am I naive? Am I stupid? Am I deluded?
What about someone whose child dies?
One of the assistant pastors at my church lost her son. I cannot think of anything more heartbreaking. Yet she still has faith in a loving God. How is this possible?
I think of King David, who lost his young child. He was a man that we are told, in I Kings 15:4, that was loved by God.
Yet, in Psalm 22 he wrote, in verses 1–2:
My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from saving me, so far from my cries of anguish? My God, I cry out by day, but you do not answer, by night, but I find no rest.
If God loved David so much, why did he allow him to be in such despair?
In 2 Samuel 12:16–18 we read that:
David pleaded with God for the child. He fasted and spent the nights lying in sackcloth on the ground. The elders of his household stood beside him to get him up from the ground, but he refused, and he would not eat any food with them. On the seventh day the child died.
Yet David did not lose his faith.
How is this believable?
I think of my pastor friend, and the joy I’ve seen on her face when she’s in communion with God.
Another friend of mine, who I met while we were both going through chemotherapy, died of her cancer 17 years ago. I had only known her for a year. She was a woman of deep faith, and she always seemed peaceful and joyous despite her suffering. Her husband mourned her but did not become bitter after her death.
Neither did King David.
After his son died:
Then David got up from the ground. After he had washed, put on lotions and changed his clothes, he went into the house of the Lord and worshiped. Then he went to his own house, and at his request they served him food, and he ate.
His attendants asked him, “Why are you acting this way? While the child was alive, you fasted and wept, but now that the child is dead, you get up and eat!”
He answered, “While the child was still alive, I fasted and wept. I thought, ‘Who knows? The Lord may be gracious to me and let the child live.’ But now that he is dead, why should I go on fasting? Can I bring him back again? I will go to him, but he will not return to me.” — 2 Samuel 12: 20–23
I have highlighted the last line.
For those of us who are Christian, we believe God loves us. However, He had not promised us a life without pain and suffering. He has not promised us a rose garden with no thorns.
Instead, He has promised to be with us through whatever hardships we experience in our lives on earth and to allow us to dwell in His presence in the afterlife.
King David knew that he would go to his son in the afterlife. My friend who lost her son believes she will see him again someday. My friend who died of cancer took comfort from her belief in heaven.
Christians know that there is pain and suffering in the world. This is reality. It doesn’t mean we want to experience it. Jesus Himself asked God to remove the cup from Him.
Yet a life without pain and suffering is a life without growth.
In fiction, classics like the Lord of the Rings feature pain and growth. Sam and Frodo greatly suffered. At one point, Frodo says, “you and I, Sam, are still stuck in the worst places of the story.” Yet in the end, though scarred, Frodo emerges victorious.
In the United States, slavery was only ended via the Civil War. Other means had been tried and failed.
The Battle Hymn of the Republic has the lyrics:
As He died to make men holy,
Let us die to make men free;
The abolitionists knew that pain and suffering would be needed to birth freedom just as we know there is pain before the birth of a child.
Of course, no one wants to suffer. And if we can grow and develop without suffering, of course, we would rather do that. But that is not the way the world works. If God kept us free from all pain and suffering, we would remain spiritual babies. We would not grow.
It is when we trust in Him as we go through hard times that we also emerge stronger, wiser, more compassionate, and more resilient. We feel closer to God as we lean on Him through our suffering. It is in our moments of greatest weakness that we also find our greatest strength.
In my own life, I did not start painting until after I got cancer. My art was my therapy and it helped me. I lost the functioning of my right hand, however, due to my latest bout of cancer. I still have not regained full functionality. Like Frodo, I feel that I am near the nadir of my story. But I know it is not the end.
I am fighting stage IV cancer. If you can help with medical bills, I would really appreciate it. Or if you enjoy my writing and would like to buy me a cup of coffee, that’s great too. Maybe someday I can return the favor.
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This post was previously published on MEDIUM.COM.
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You may also like these posts on The Good Men Project:
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