Some people that we know are dealing with some really, really sad things. We're dealing with some hard stuff. We've cried and are grieving and wrestling with the whys. We struggle with what to do with them in our own hearts, how to pray for and be with people in the midst. Crazy questions and ideas and accusations can crop up and haunt these vulnerable places in our souls. What do we do with the pain? Where do we go?
This morning David and I talked about the story in John 9 of the man born blind. Skeptics questioned Jesus--Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind? I totally feel that question. What have we done wrong? But we've been reveling in Jesus' response--It was not that this man sinned or his parents, but that the works of God may be displayed in him. Job losing everything, Abraham and Sarah awaiting and awaiting and awaiting a baby, Mary and Martha wrenched by their brother's tomb, how many others? ...and every time it was the same story "that the works of God may be displayed." It's the same story. And that's what we want. We want his works in our lives because he is the all-wise, all-loving, all-good God. May we trust his goodness and his provision and his purpose.
Oh, may the works of God may be displayed within all of these aching unknowns and deep sorrows. Oh, may we remember and joyfully worship this God for just who he is. His purposes are good. Always.