Why should a living man complain,
a man, about the punishment of his sins? Lamentations 3:39
As hours turn into days, it begins to dawn on Aron Ralston that no one is going to come to save him and he will most likely expire in this canyon. Why did no one come look for him, after he had been missing for three days? Because, he sarcastically boasts, “(I am) something of a big (choice word) hard hero. I can do everything on my own.“ And because of his heroic estimate of himself, how many people did he tell where he was going? None. Surprisingly, Ralston does what so few of us are willing to do: he takes responsibility for the dire circumstances he is in. He lives a life of self-sufficiency, and when his self-sufficiency reaps its natural consequence of helplessness, he points the finger at himself, rather than God, family, government, or whatever scapegoat seems most culpable.
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For the Lord will not cast off forever,
but, though he cause grief, he will have compassion
according to the abundance of his steadfast love;
for he does not willingly afflict
for he does not willingly afflict
or grieve the children of men. Lamentations 3:31-33
But our story, as Ralston’s story, does not end in a crevasse or a tomb, victims of our own self-sufficiency. Although there is suffering that comes from our sin, we have a sovereign and merciful God who is constantly at work redeeming this world, even redeeming us through suffering. Behind the scenes of this destructive world, we have a God that, although He has not caused the destruction, is ordaining events such that they work together for the good of those who love Him (Romans 8:28), those He has called to Himself. Although we cannot always see His movements of mercy at work in every circumstance, the Christ of Golgotha is our picture of how God can use suffering to bring about his plan. Because of Golgotha, we know that suffering is not in vain, without hope. Although God does not ultimately ‘willingly afflict the children of men,’ He uses even the result of our rebellion as a way to draw us back to Him and to teach us how to follow Him. Similar to a windmill, he takes our whirlwind and uses it to bring life and redemption to us. Similar to a guardrail on the Big Sur (a road along the cliffs of the Pacific), he allows us to crash so that we will not run headlong into an ultimate destruction. He is, in His perfect sovereign plan, working even the destruction of the world into His plan, not disposing of our swords but beating them into plowshares. In the Brothers Karamazov, Dostoevsky hints at the ultimate working out of God’s sovereign plan,
“…in the world’s finale, at the moment of eternal harmony, something so precious will come to pass that it will suffice for all hearts, for the comforting of all resentments, for the atonement of all of the crimes of humanity, of all the blood that they have shed; that it will not only make it possible to forgive but to justify all that has happened.”
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