Can I Trust Him?

One night, a house caught fire. The father was able to get all of his family to safety, with the exception of his young son. The son, unable to escape the house, made it to the roof. Seeing his son, and knowing what he must do, the father ran to the edge of the house, directly under his son, and reached out his arms.

"Jump!" I'll catch you," he yelled. 

However, all the boy could see was flame, smoke, and blackness. He was terrified. "Daddy, I can't see you!" the boy cried.

The father replied, "But I can see you and that's all that matters."

The boy jumped.

Eventually, if not already, you're going to find yourself standing on the roof, unable to see through the darkness, the smoke, the blackness of night. And you're going to wonder if you can trust your Daddy.

It'll happen. It happened to me. And when it happens, the sermons you've heard don't matter. The songs become irrelevant. The trite words shared by well-meaning Christians become grating to the ears. I mean, has the phrase "It must be God's will" ever helped anyone? Really?

Only one phrase matters. Scripture takes on new light, because now we're dealing with real life. We're no longer dealing with the God of felt board Sunday School lessons. We've moved on past the God of neatly alliterated sermons. The God of the seminary classroom no longer exists. No, we've entered into completely new territory: the God of real life. The God of broken marriages. The God of the sin you just can't shake. The God of foreclosed homes. The God of infant-sized coffins. 

And, with the God of real life, only one phrase matters: Can I trust Him? When you're standing on the roof, can you trust that He'll catch you?

I read a statistic once, but can't remember the source to confirm its accuracy. It said, basically, that the majority of people stop believing in God because of the problem of suffering. They ask the ages-old question: "How could a loving God allow pain?"

I get it. I really do. I've known people that walked away. In almost every instance, it was due to some sort of suffering. I had a friend who walked away tell me that, in light of the things he had experienced, it was easier to deal with the thought of no God than to deal with the notion of God allowing the things He did. 

How could a loving God allow pain? I could answer that question, but it would take a much longer post. In fact, I preached an entire series of sermons about it and still don't think I did it justice. You don't want "pat" answers anyway. You don't want to be told that it's all God's will.  You want to know if you can jump off the roof and be caught. You want to know if He can be trusted.

He can be. But you have to stay to find out.

One of my favorite speakers, Steve Brown, said that one day he's going to write a book about marriage. He said that, when you open it up, it'll simply have the phrase, "Don't leave." Because, he said, if you don't leave, God can do something with you and your marriage.

Good advice, that. 

Guess what? He caught me. Praise God, He caught me.

But don't take my word for it. You can't take my word for it. You have to find out for yourself. So stay.

Oh, taste and see that the Lord is good;
Blessed is the man who trusts in Him! - Psalm 34:8 (NKJV)

The second part of the verse is true. It's true, I promise. But you have to find out for yourself. You have to "taste and see."

So, wherever you're at, whether you've had your house-on-fire, head-to-the-roof moment or not, don't walk away. If you do, I wouldn't blame you. You'd avoid the messy implications. You wouldn't have to deal with the complicated, centuries long struggles of a loving God and His relation to suffering and pain.

But if you walk away, you won't experience the strength and softness of His hands. You'll miss His embrace.

If you stay, He'll do for you what He did for me.

Jump.

Adam is a husband, father, preacher, and teacher

living in Mayfield, KY. You can follow him 

on his personal blog here, Twitter here, 

or Facebook here.