Life is Hard, But GOD is Good - August 1, 2010
LIFE IS DIFFICULT, BUT GOD IS GOOD
Psalm 107:1-9, 43
Two men set out on a journey together. They took a donkey to carry their packs, a torch to light their way at night, and a rooster, who was a friend of the donkey. The rooster sat on the donkey’s head during the entire journey.
One of the men was deeply religious; the other was a skeptic. On the journey they frequently spoke about God. “In all things, God is good,” said the first companion. “We will see if your opinion bears out on the trip,” said the second.
Shortly before dusk the two men arrived in a small village where they sought a place to sleep. Despite their frequent requests, no one offered them a night’s lodging. Reluctantly, they traveled a mile beyond the town, where they decided to sleep.
“I thought you said God is good,” the skeptic said sarcastically.
“God has decided this is the best place for us to sleep tonight,” replied his friend.
They made their beds beneath a large tree, just off the main road that led to the village, tethering the donkey about 30 yards away. Just as they were about to light the torch they heard a horrible noise. A lion had killed the donkey and carried it off to eat. Quickly the companions climbed the tree to stay away from danger.
“You still say God is good?” the skeptic asked with anger.
“If the lion hadn’t eaten the donkey, he would have attacked us. God is good,” his companion declared.
Moments later a cry from the rooster sent them further up the tree. From this new vantage point they saw a wildcat carrying the rooster away in his teeth. Before the skeptic could say a word, the man of faith declared, “The cry of the rooster has once again saved us. God is good.”
A few minutes later a strong wind arose and blew out the torch, their only comfort in the black night. Again the skeptic taunted his companion, “It appears that the goodness of God is working overtime this evening,” he said. This time the believer was silent.
The next morning the two men walked back into the village for food. They soon discovered that a large band of outlaws had swept into town the previous night and robbed the entire population of all its possessions.
With this news the man of faith turned to his friend. “Finally it has become clear,” he cried. “Had we been given a room in the village last night, we would have been robbed along with all of the villagers. If the wind had not blown out our torch, the bandits who traveled the road near the place where we slept would have discovered us and taken all our goods. It is clear, that in all things, God is good.”
Psalm 107 opens with the same affirmation about God: God is good. This goodness shows itself in love that is steadfast toward us. It endures, and it endures forever. Human perversity tempts God to renege on it, but God never does. There is always a loophole, a stay of execution, a new covenant. So the psalmist, mindful of this reliable pattern, sings confidently from the start, “O give thanks to the Lord, for he is good; for his steadfast love endures forever(v.1).”
God’s goodness is a “straight way” in the “desert wastes” where we are lost, the hubbub of an “inhabited town” at the pathway’s end, the gripping joy of knowing that we will again have human company in the land of the living (v. 4,7). For the psalmist, there is nothing theoretical about God’s goodness. It attends to particular circumstances and bends to real need. God’s goodness does us good. We need God to do us good. After all, as M. Scott Peck famously put it, “life is difficult.”
The psalmist reminds us that if the worst has happened and, by God’s grace, we have lived to tell about it, it is our duty to speak. “Let them say so,” says verse 2. Let them testify! Testimony is telling the truth, and it is a practice of resistance to evil. According to verse 42, unfortunately omitted from the lectionary text, speaking up is the way the righteous compel the wicked to pipe down. Truthful speech about God’s steadfastness counters the lie that God does not care or even exist. Evil’s invitation to despair is drowned out by the joyous sound of God’s praise in human thanksgiving.
We know that suffering destroys faith as often as it strengthens it. A community of grateful testimony can make the difference. A person in trouble is blessed to be part of a wise, discerning people (v.43) that know how to tell the story of God’s abiding love in its own words, from its own experience. When one person’s moral compass gyrates wildly, the church’s compass remains true: “God is good; God’s steadfast love endures forever.” The congregation that learns to “say so” (v. 2) as the refrain of endless instances of grace can be the saving hand of God for people in difficulty – which is just about everybody, sooner or later.
One of the hymns we all love to sing on Thanksgiving Day is “Now Thank We All Our God.” Hearing this hymn of praise, one would never think that it was written in a time of tragic experiences. From some of the most severe hardships imaginable during the Thirty Years’ War (1618-1648) came this stately hymn.
Lutheran Pastor Martin Rinkart was called to the church in his native town of Eilenberg in Saxony just when the bloodshed was starting. Because Eilenberg was a walled city, it became overcrowded with refugees from far and near. Throughout the war years several waves of deadly pestilence and famine swept the city as the various armies marched through the town, leaving death and destruction in their wake. The Rickart home served as a refuge for the afflicted victims, even though it is said that the pastor often had difficulty providing food and clothing for his own family. The plague of 1637 was particularly severe. At its height, Rinkart was the only remaining pastor, often conducting as many as fifty funerals daily. He buried over 5,000 people that year, including his own wife. Yet, amazingly, he was a prolific writer of seven different dramatic productions on the events of the Reformation as well as a total of sixty-six hymns.
When the news finally arrived that the Peace of Westphalia had ended the war, a decree went out that a thanksgiving service be held in every church. Pastors were asked to preach on a text from Sirach (50:22-24), a book in the Apocrypha better known as Ecclesiasticus. Martin Rinkart was so moved by it that he also wrote a hymn based on this doxology from Sirach:
And now bless the God of all,
who everywhere works great wonders.
who fosters our growth from birth,
and deals with us according to his mercy.
May he give us gladness of heart,
and may there be peace in our days
in Israel, as in the days of old.
May he entrust to us his mercy,
and may he deliver us in our days!
This man, who experienced horrors beyond what we can know or imagine, led his people in praise and thanks to God.
Life is difficult. Yes, life is difficult. That is a profound half-truth. But for every half-truth there is the other half, and in this case, it is the profounder half. Life is difficult, but God is good.
Can you say those first three words? -- “Life is difficult.” You say that with such conviction.
But now can you say those second words with even greater conviction? – God is good.
Life is difficult – but what? GOD IS GOOD!