Our recent observance of Veteran’s Day reminded me how we teased my dad a bit about his relatively cushy military assignment during World War II. Instead of storming the beaches of Normandy, he stormed the streets of New Orleans as a staff sergeant in the Army.
Of course, that doesn’t mean his service wasn’t sacrificial. Giving up four years of your life is challenging, no matter where you spend that time.
We like to think we’re masters of our fate, but just like my father couldn’t choose where he was posted during the war, we don’t get to determine where we’re born, who our parents are, or our genetic makeup. Those of us who believe God ordains those things are then left to wrestle with this: Why are some people born into easy circumstances, while others come into the world with many strikes already against them?
How could a just and loving God allow some to be born into a dismal life of deprivation in a hellish place like North Korea or South Sudan, while I get to be among the relatively small percentage of people throughout all history for whom mere survival hasn’t been a daily struggle? Why was I assigned to New Orleans while others were sent to Normandy?
Many of us feel a bit overwhelmed right now by the depth and breadth of evil and suffering in the world. While sin and pain surely aren’t new, never before have they been displayed with such frequency and intensity via mass media. How do we process what we’re seeing? Is it enough to say God’s ways are mysterious and keep stuffing down hard questions about why God allows what He allows?
I’ve never been a good stuffer, so while I can’t pretend to completely understand the complex interplay between God’s love and human suffering, or between His sovereignty and our free will, I have come to some conclusions that help me reconcile the sometimes harsh realities of life with what God says about Himself and His love for us. Here are those conclusions: If I expect God to always make this life easy, I’m holding Him to a promise He never made. God isn’t my personal “butler” or a “genie in a bottle” and His highest goal for my life isn’t happiness. In fact, although I obsess about my circumstances, I shouldn’t because God doesn’t. The next world is where followers of Christ will experience total happiness and fulfillment forever. That’s where we’ll see God’s heart perfectly displayed and expressed.
That’s why Jesus warned, “In this world, you will have tribulation” and Paul wrote, “If only for this life we have hope in Christ, we are of all people most to be pitied” (1 Corinthians 15:19), and “For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all” (2 Corinthians 4:17).
Does God care about our struggles and suffering? Certainly. Do I believe His promise to “work all things together for good” for those who believe in Him? Absolutely. But “good” doesn’t necessarily mean easy or comfortable.
Our short stay in this fallen world is, as the Bible says, a “vapor”—like a quick spritz of hairspray. Real life begins, for Christ followers, when we shed our mortal bodies and “put on immortality” (1 Corinthians 15:53-54). This life is really all about what we do with Jesus and for His glory.
Every easy circumstance is a bonus and every trial is … well, to be expected, along with enough grace and joy—yes, joy—to persevere, knowing God takes every step with us and this, too, shall pass.
For the joy set before Him, Jesus endured (Hebrews 12:2). We can, too. In New Orleans or Normandy.