The Face of God

This post has been going around my social media outlets. A few people have posted it on Facebook and Twitter. It's a great post that basically gives a counterargument to the phrase "God never gives you more than you can handle." It's a good post...I probably would have given a bit more of the middle finger to that phrase than the author did but I love where she was going with it.

I used to love that: "God never gives you more than you can handle." And I think it's true in lots of respects. Stress at work? You can handle it. Kids acting up? You got this. No time for relaxing? You'll be okay. Yes, those are all very important things and can be very big things in life--but that phrase comes in handy on those "this too shall pass" kind of moments. But tell that phrase to a woman who has just lost her child...or who has just lost another child. Tell that to someone who isn't sure that their marriage to someone they truly saw spending the rest of their life with is going to make it. Tell that to my little sister the day she found out that her best friend was murdered. God may not "give" you more than you can handle but more than you can handle can sure as heck show up in your life--and I think the last thing we need to do is tell someone in one of those situations that they are expected to be able to "handle it."

A few weeks ago, my pastor gave a seat-of-the-pants sermon when the guy who was supposed to preach that day had to call in sick. The sermon wasn't the greatest thing I'd ever heard but he off-handedly talked about a theory he'd stumbled upon in some theological book making its rounds in the Christian community. I feel bad that I can't give credit where credit is due and give the name of the author but I have no idea who or what it was. But the concept really stuck with me.

Here's the thing: right now, things are okay. After a couple of really rough years: watching dear friends go through some hard stuff, losing a friend in a mass shooting you think could "never happen to you", losing two babies through miscarriage, dealing with personal issues with some of the people who I loved most in the world, life felt a whole lot more like Sure, I'm "handling" this if "handling" means breathing and going through the motions but this is NOT a life! and a whole lot less like God, I got this! Thanks for not giving me any more than I can handle! But right now, even with spending three full days a week in the hospital every week, even with health concerns, even with the uncertainties of what February will bring and whether our little baby will be okay, things seem like they are back on track. But while my life seems okay in this moment, I have so many friends and acquaintances whose life is anything but. People who have lost their children, friends who are watching their once-happy marriages crumble before their eyes, loved ones who are literally watching the world they believed in come crashing down. I can't really put into words what this does to my heart: watching these wonderful people deal with such terrible things. And how do you respond to that in a Christian, loving way? Other than sincerely praying for them, what in the world do you do? 

It's also been bothering me lately when I read things about "My prayers were answered!" I realize how ridiculous this sounds but I remember reading things like that after bad things happened to me or people I love. I'd read about someone in the exact same situation and see that their prayers were answered...so why weren't ours? So many people talked about how "God was protecting so-and-so in Aurora!" and "Praise be to God! He saved this person from danger!" and all I could think was, "Well then where was He with our Jessi in the very same theater?"  When it originally looked like our baby was not going to be okay only to find out all was well, I found myself hesitant to say, "Our prayers were answered!" because all I could think about were those who prayed hard for their baby to be okay...and it didn't work out. I thought about how hard I prayed to save our last baby when it looked like I was having a miscarriage...and it didn't work out. I considered all the prayers of an entire nation to let the children of a school shooting survive...and nothing. So I found myself hesitant to praise God in my situation when He seemed absent in the situations of others. It just didn't seem fair. 

But then I heard this sermon. Essentially, our pastor talked about the Biblical idea that if you see the face of God, you will surely die (Exodus 33:20). The concept is basically that the face of God is just so incredible that nobody could look upon it and still live on this earth. If you grew up in the Christian church, I am sure you have heard it before: God is so incredible that you can't even handle it--even just seeing His face would cause you to perish. I've heard this many times before and hadn't ever really given it much thought...mostly because I didn't think I was going to be blessed with the opportunity to see God's face so I never really dwelt on what that meant for me or my faith walk. The interesting thing that my pastor brought up though is a reverse theory of the Face of God. Basically, a theory that perhaps this works a bit in the other direction too.

Okay, let me back up a minute: If God is truly "with us" and dwelling with us, then he surely experiences everything we do. This is something I've always believed: as hard as it was to lose our babies, as empty as I felt sobbing on my floor after Jessi died, as sad as I've been knowing that I am helpless to help my friends who are going through a hard time, I have always believed that God is right there next to me and to those going through terrible trials, He is sitting in the trenches with us and is crying, hurting, longing right there next to the broken.  I may be so angry at Him that my prayers are littered with curse words rather than adorations but I still believe that my God is not one who sits on high and watches as I hurt--He hurts right along with me. Even if I am angry as hell at Him for not stopping it, I do believe that He understands my grief and that He mourns with me.

So the idea behind this reverse "Face of God" thing is that maybe that kind of grief, the rip-your-heart-out, unable to breathe, how will I ever be normal again, kind of grief is akin to seeing the Face of God--that God is so close to us in those moments, grasping our hand tightly and lovingly as our heart crumbles into a million pieces...and that He is so closely tied to us in those moments that it is like seeing the Face of God. And maybe that is why it feels so much like death, so much like you will surely die rather than go on living this life that's left for you...because why would you want to?

And maybe that's the answer: because God is here. Because He is here with you and He will hold your hand as you step out of that darkness and slowly He will teach you how to walk again on your own. In doing so, you will come out of that grief little by little until you feel like yeah, things still suck but at least you aren't constantly battling against the idea of how you could ever be normal again because at least there are short glimpses each day of a life that maybe you'd be okay living again. 

There's no real fancy way to tie up this post. I just can't help but think that in my life, I will be faced with more challenges that leave me wondering how I can ever go on...wondering why I would ever want to. In those moments, I hope that I can remember that I am not alone...even if it feels like I've never been more alone in my life and even if I want to run as far away from God as I can for letting me experience such pain. And I hope that this post will remind me that when I am facing those heartaches, that my God is standing right there next to me, holding me up and telling me it will be okay...even if I want nothing to do with Him at the time. So yes, God may give us more than we can handle but at least we can take comfort in the fact that we don't have to handle it in the depths of our loneliness because He is there with us, even if it feels like he's never been further away.