How Long, O LORD?

I managed to grow up basically untouched by the problem of evil. Whether I was blessed or just blinkered may be up for debate, but even into my young adulthood, pain and suffering was something that, in my experience, mostly just happened as you got old.

That illusion was ripped apart one day. 

My career is in cancer treatment. Cancer is generally an old person's disease, and most of our patients are in their 60s, 70s, or 80s. One day shortly after I'd started that job I was walking through the area where new patients are set up for the way we'll be treating them. As I passed by, I heard one staff member call out to another in the next room, "The doctor says she can keep her pacifier."

I felt like I'd walked into a wall. Suddenly cancer wasn't something that happens to old people; it happens to babies. True, most of our patients are older, but we treat lots of children. One of the most common statements of the problem of evil I hear is "why does God allow children to get cancer?"

If we needed only one sign that everything is not right with our world, this one will do it: Children are supposed to be playing and laughing and wanting to grow up to be astronauts, not struggling with chemo. Why are children born with birth defects? Why do they die in car accidents? Why do they drown?

Why do their mothers drown them? Why do their fathers abuse them? Why do strangers murder them? Why do they kill each other?

Why is this kind of evil permitted? As Christians we believe God is good and just and wise, that he has a plan we do not understand, one he is working out to a greater good. But we can and should still cry out to God that this just doesn't seem right.

Sometimes we're afraid to pray things that seem irreverent. We do want to remember who we're talking to and be respectful, but we also have a model in scripture that tells us that we can be very raw and honest with God. There's a phrase that is used several times in the Psalms, but its most powerful expression comes from the prophet Habakkuk:

How long, O LORD, must I call for help,
  but you do not listen?
Or cry out to you, “Violence!”
  but you do not save?
Why do you make me look at injustice?
  Why do you tolerate wrongdoing? (Hab 1:2-3)

How long, O Lord? How long will you let this continue? When are you going to step in and stop this? When are you going to fix what we've broken?

And the answer is silence. We don't know how long. We simply pray that it will be soon and cling to his promise. Because he did promise. Jesus talked about "the renewal of all things" (Matt 19:28 NIV) or "the regeneration" (ESV). It's a beautiful picture. God's not going to tear it all down; he's going to renew it, to fix it. He's going to make it all into what it was always supposed to be. He's going to make our world a place with "no more death or mourning or crying or pain" (Rev 21:4).

On this mountain the LORD Almighty will prepare
  a feast of rich food for all peoples ...
On this mountain he will destroy
  the shroud that enfolds all peoples,
the sheet that covers all nations;
  he will swallow up death forever.
The Sovereign LORD will wipe away the tears
  from all faces;
he will remove his people’s disgrace
  from all the earth.
    The LORD has spoken. (Is 25:6-8)

The LORD, YHWH has spoken. And he keeps his word. Sometimes it takes thousands of years, but he will fulfill his promises.

Until then, we wait. We wait expectantly, not passively. We wait like shipwrecked people who've heard the rescue ship is coming. We wait like soldiers under attack who know the cavalry is on the way. We carry on the fight, but we watch the horizon. We prepare for the arrival.

And we pray, with the church of old, "Come, Lord Jesus!"

Some music for reflection:
"There Will Be A Day"
"O Come O Come Emmanuel"


Image via Unsplash