Hats in the Hailing

Hail, storm, the sky is falling--the wise mother would chide, "Where is your hat?" So, too, when suffering hails and throws sleet at us, we arm and protect ourselves.

First, with the detective hat. "Why?" Why? A relentless search, leaving no stone unturned, introspective, examining this and that. Yet, ultimately, we know the hat doesn't fit. It hangs loose, empty.... Stones turned lead to no answers. The "why" begins to exhaustedly echo hollowly. The silence can only exacerbate the pain of suffering. We want meaning. We want reason. We search, we posit, we pose: self-improvement, character development, refinement, lack of faith, lack of effort, it’s my fault, karma, it’s all Satan, spiritual attacks, or we fall into nihilistic despair or denial. We often never really know.

We discard the detective hat for the hardhat. In the silence, many move toward another question, “What?” What is God doing in this? What are you learning? Decked out in our sharp yellow hat, we move toward a program of self-improvement, attempting a vague sense of redemption of the unceasing, insensible pain. "What" is a very valid question, and an important one to ask. Yet, it can become just another rephrasing of the “Why” question. Once again, we are looking for something in and beyond and greater than the suffering, to control it, to make reason. Yet, the hat pinches. Too narrow. The hail of the suffering only batters and beats against the hardhat, only echoing the beating of the question of suffering that still hammers us. 

Will we find a hat that fits? 

The storm rages, and our hats are forms of control and self-protection. In my on-going suffering, I find myself seeking control. If I just knew why I was ill and in pain, I could do something. I search for reasons. Maybe if I take this, do that, eat that, don’t eat this, confess this sin… Maybe if I just learned the lesson that God was trying to teach me, the suffering would end. Maybe if I just got rid of that character flaw, or had more patience, or more joy, or less fear, or was more generous, or more loving, or treasured him more, maybe I’d have learned my lesson and God would let this suffering up.

But maybe there isn’t a why. Maybe there isn’t a sin or a flaw. Maybe this is not primarily to teach me something or form my character.

Maybe there is not a hat. Maybe it is a crown. A crown of thorns--Christ's crown. Maybe the better question is, “Who?” Who is Jesus in my suffering? Who is God in my suffering?

Rock.

Shield.

Sustainer.

Giver of Smiles on Dark Days.

He Who Sends Encouragement through Others.

Holder of Life Despite the Odds.

The Reality Greater than Suffering.

The Star in the Night.

The Morning Star.

My Portion and Cup.

Living Water in Incessant Thirst.

My Food with Pain in my Stomach.

The Earnest Lover Who Will Not Be Challenged.

The Self-Revealing God.

The Pursuer.  

My Step When I Can’t Go On.

My Grace.

My Life.

My Joy When there Feels Like No Reason.

The truth is, lurking behind the “Why” and the “What” are often wrong views of who God is.

A small God—his healing and work in my life is conditional on what I do, whether I have enough faith or exercise my authority, or if I have the discernment to see this sin, or if I have the ability to learn such and such.

A sadistic God or cruel Father or harsh Judge—leaving us alone and inflicting us until we figure something out. He is willing to squash us until we learn such and such. I do believe that God permits suffering, that it all comes through his hand (1). I do believe God uses suffering to refine us and cause us to depend on him alone (Hosea 2; 2 Cor. 1:8-9 and countless others). However, sometimes we miss his love behind it.

A disinterested deity—in our denial or despair we feel he is not involved.

Often lurking are wrong views of who we are.

Powerful enough to control God.

Independent authority-wielders.

Weak victims in a crazy universe.

Control-managers.

All expressions of original sin (2).

So, “Who?” Who is God? Who is Christ? Who is the Spirit, now, in my suffering? Who am I?

Emmanuel.

In Christ.
We hail him in the hail of our suffering because he wore the crown of thorns, and is now crowned with glory. This is our crown, our covering in suffering.

NOTES

(1) John Piper and Justin Taylor, Suffering and the Sovereignty of God (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Books, 2006).

(2) Tullian Tchividjian, Glorious Ruin: How Suffering Sets You Free (Chicago, IL: David C. Cook, 2014).