Somehow...someway...

My mom told me that my post on Monday was heavy. A good friend said the same thing. I agreed with both of them. While I wasn't intentionally trying to be heavy, I think that sometimes we need to see things for what they really are--not filtering them through a Christian lens but seeing them as raw truth and reality.

We live in a broken world. We are surrounded by broken people. We know all too well of the economic and health care crises that we are experiencing in America. We know all too well of natural disasters and poverty that have paralyzed countries around the world.

I don't know about you, but when I think about the reality in which we live, I get overwhelmed by the task of sharing God's love with the world. Though I give money and pray and volunteer and seek to stay educated about how I can make a difference, I feel so small and insignificant...especially when I'm reminded of the fact that more people than we care to acknowledge blame God for the world's misfortunes and doubt that God could be present in the midst of so much hurt.

This week, as I've wondered about my own question from Monday (how do we illumine hope and peace in this reality?), I have been struck not with answers of what I can do but with the reminder of who God is: God is bigger than me. God is big enough to handle all of the world's hurts and doubts. God's ways are not my ways nor God's thoughts my thoughts. God is the Creator who still creates. God is the beginning, present, and end. And God is love.

I think of Psalm 139--a beautiful declaration of God's creation and presence that ends only after the psalmist has prayed a raw, honest prayer that God would slay the bloodthirsty, wicked men that he abhored. Most of the time, we leave off that last part. But I don't think we should. I think we need it as a reminder that God has heard and honored the hearts of humanity for a really long time...and that God is not going to stop now.

And I think of Psalm 13--a heartfelt prayer from a man walking through a dark night of the soul. I imagine how he felt overwhelmed by life and cried out to the God that he could not see or feel or understand. I understand his questions. And I understand how he ends:

"But I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation. I will sing to the LORD, for he has been good to me."

I don't exactly know how to illumine hope and peace to the Joe's of this world--to those who have been hardened and jaded by life--but I do know this: I will trust in God's unfailing love and rejoice in the salvation of Christ's transformational grace. I will sing to the Lord, for he is good. And I will trust that God is big enough to do the work that I cannot do...somehow...someway...