WHERE IS GOD WHEN LIFE GETS MESSY?

by Adam Harbinson

Many people feel that the church’s understanding of the nature of our relationship to God can be inadequate, unscriptural, and sometimes damaging. The result is that feelings of anger and bitterness are cards we play very close to our chests. We don’t want to be exposed by our honesty about how we feel toward God when he disappoints us or when things happen that we don’t understand. But if we don’t find a way to deal with our frustration, even just to acknowledge it, or talk about it, we’re the losers because we usually end up turning our backs and walking away.

I used to long for someone to tell me that you’re normal if you find it hard to forgive God, or that you won’t be struck down dead if you’re angry with him. But no one ever did, I learned for myself that when we call him Father, that’s exactly what he is. 

A quarter of a century ago my Downs Syndrome son was born. Those who know him know a young man who can brighten up a room just by entering it, in the same way that I can brighten it by leaving. He’s caring and compassionate, generous and gentle, loving and forgiving – O that more of us could be more like him.

When Jonny was born, the medical profession wrote him off. He was bound for an institution, where he’d ‘be happy.’ Friends and family tried to be helpful and supportive, but there were no answers to the deep questions that arose in the ragged corners of my life.

People would say, ‘You must be a wonderful family for God to have chosen you to look after this special child.’ What I heard them say was that God had decided to create a sub-normal human being and searched for a family meek enough not to complain too much. And a well-meaning old lady, lost for words like so many others, whispered in my ear one day as I wept bitter tears, ‘God chastens those he loves.’ What was that all about? Jonathan was sent as a punishment? And I’m supposed to thank God for sending him? I don’t think so.

So where was God in all the mess? I can only say that I refused to accept both these propositions that painted a picture of a heartless God who inflicted a disabled child on a submissive family. The fact is that because of some inexplicable quirk of nature, Jonny had an extra chromosome – simple as that.

I’ve come to believe that it’s as futile to blame God for our perceived calamities as it is to feign gratitude for them. I’ve never seen anything in my Bible that tells me I should be grateful to God for the trials and traumas of life. Yes, we are to be thankful in our circumstances, not necessarily for them.

In due course Jonny integrated seamlessly into our family, we treated him just like the other three as far as his condition would allow. I’ll never forget the day when someone in school was making fun of him and he was heard to say, ‘I might be Downs Syndrome, but I’m not stupid’ – and I thought; now there’s a confident lad.

And after all this time I think I have finally learned that I can be thankful for him without feeling guilty for not being grateful for the condition of Downs Syndrome too. Delicate balance.