Before you read this post, be sure to hit play in the audio player above...
When it comes to God, a question many people desire to ask Him is why there is pain and suffering in the world. People like Charles Templeton claim that because there is pain and suffering in the world, then there must not be a God who loves His creation as many evangelical Christians claim.
This question has been eating at my heart since the last women's Bible study. One of my girlfriend has come upon a phase in her life where she is realizing how much she really desires to have a relationship with Jesus...but this question has been nagging her, and it has led her to fear her faith.
Recently, I've been reading The Case for Faith by Lee Strobel...and the first chapter is on pain and suffering. This chapter finally helped me to understand the meaning behind this Casting Crowns song. When I first heard it, I thought it referred to loving people like Jesus in the way you would sacrifice your desires for them...but...it's a little different. Read below; it's an excerpt from The Case for Faith. Lee Strobel asked Peter Kreeft how we should respond to people who suffer (he was referring to a picture in Time of an African woman holding her dead child who looked despairingly at the heavens--hoping for rain).
"So the first thing we'd need to do with this woman is to listen to her. To be aware of her. To see her pain. To feel her pain. We live in a relative bubble of comfort, and we look at pain as an observer, as a philosophical puzzle or theological problem. That's the wrong way to look at pain. The thing to do with pain is to enter it, be one with her, and then you learn something from it...
"We would want to be Jesus to her, to minister to her, to love her, to comfort her, to embrace her, to weep with her. Our love--a reflection of God's love--should spur us to help her and others who are hurting."
The answer to suffering is not an answer at all. "It's the Answerer. It's Jesus himself. It's not a bunch of words, it's the Word. It's not a tightly woven philosophical argument; it's a person. The person...
"Jesus is there, sitting beside us in the lowest places of our lives. Are we broken? He was broken, like bread, for us. Are we despised? He was despised and rejected of men. Do we cry out that we can't take any more? He was a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief. Do people betray us? He was sold out himself. Are our tenderest relationships broken? He too loved and was rejected. Do people turn from us? They hid their faces from him as from a leper.
"Does he descend into all of our hells? Yes, he does. From the depths of a Nazi death camp, Corrie ten Boom wrote, 'No matter how deep our darkness, he is deeper still.' He not only rose from the dead, he changed the meaning of death and therefore of all the little deaths--the sufferings that anticipate death and make up parts of it.
"He is gassed in Auschwitz. He is sneered at in Soweto. He is mocked in Northern Ireland. He is enslaved in Sudan. He's the one we love to hate, yet to us he has chosen to return love. Every tear we shed becomes his tear. He may not wipe them away yet, but he will...
"He's what we really need. If your friend is sick and dying, the most important thing he wants is not an explanation; he wants you to sit with him. He's terrified of being alone more than anything else. So God has not left us alone."
Edit:
After I posted this, something dawned on me. I realized that the two weeks between the death of my father-in-law and his burial were the most loneliest I had ever felt. I know that it was my FIL, and our relationship wasn't anything remotely close to the relationship I have with my own father. But it was my husband's father. And his pain was my pain...and I had never felt so alone. Imagine how my husband must have been feeling...I know that when you go through these things, people think you want to be alone...but I think the reality is that you don't want to be alone. Even if you act like you want to be alone, it's just a front. I think what we really want is what Kreeft said above: someone to sit with us.