A Lament for the Great State of Texas

On the mystery of suffering

The storms in Texas come quickly. When I moved to Ohio, the steady, gentle rain was a novelty. The rains I was used to most often came in violent spasms with a surplus of thunder and lightning. They would come and go, and then it would be dry again for weeks on end. Particularly when I lived in West Texas, rain was an uncommon gift.

These storms can be dangerous, as we’ve recently seen. A river you could walk across can, in a few hours, spill over its banks and through streets and houses. I had two sets of relatives who lived on rivers in Texas, one on the Brazos and one on the Comal (a very short river that feeds into the Guadalupe). Both endured multiple floods and eventually moved to higher ground. My aunt and uncle on the Comal lost their house entirely.

Photo by Pete Alexopoulos on Unsplash

I was not surprised to hear about the flooding in Texas. I was shocked, however, by the extent of the floods, and, even more so, the devastation and death they left behind. At the time of this writing, the death toll has reached 120, 36 of whom were children. Around 170 people are still missing.

Christ have mercy.

I wish I understood these kinds of tragedies theologically. Yes, at one level we can say that we live in a fallen world with the consequence that we experience death. That is cold comfort, however, to those who have suffered loss. Amid the anguish of losing a loved one, abstract theological explanations are annoying background noise. Even worse are facile and vapid explanations like, “I guess their time was up,” or “God needed another angel in heaven.” Best just to be quiet rather than trivialize loss and pain.

The fact of the matter is, the Bible wrestles with these matters just as deeply as we do. The biblical writers peer into the mystery of suffering without blinking. At times, the Bible draws a causal line between sin and suffering. When we step outside of God’s will, the potential to cause harm to ourselves and other people is great. And yet Scripture also testifies that we can’t explain all suffering in this way. The “problem of pain,” as C. S. Lewis called it, is a vexing theological dilemma. It has confounded Christian thinkers across the centuries. Many have tried to resolve it. I’m not aware of a truly satisfactory explanation.

The Bible testifies to the depth of this wicked problem most clearly in the Book of Job. After lengthy debates with his friends and a rebuke from the Lord, Job responds to the Almighty,

“I know that you can do all things;
no purpose of yours can be thwarted.
³ You asked, ‘Who is this that obscures my plans without knowledge?’
Surely I spoke of things I did not understand,
things too wonderful for me to know.

⁴ “You said, ‘Listen now, and I will speak;
I will question you,
and you shall answer me.’
⁵ My ears had heard of you
but now my eyes have seen you.
⁶ Therefore I despise myself
and repent in dust and ashes” (Job 42:2-6).

No answer to the problem of Job’s pain is forthcoming.

Ecclesiastes is another work that rebukes easy answers to the problem of human suffering. Qoheleth muses,

[N]o one knows when their hour will come:

As fish are caught in a cruel net,
or birds are taken in a snare,
so people are trapped by evil times
that fall unexpectedly upon them (Eccl 9:12).

Christ himself prays to avoid, if possible, the suffering of the cross (Matt 26:39). Wasn’t there some other way for God to accomplish his redemptive purposes? In the end, there was not. Jesus had to endure the “paschal mystery.” Since his death, theologians have wrestled with the relationship between Christ’s suffering and death and the work of atonement.

The Bible doesn’t solve the problem of pain for us. Now we see as through a glass darkly, but in time we will see face-to-face. That dark glass feels like an enemy sometimes. Speaking personally, the mystery of human suffering vexes me and challenges my faith. I’ve watched good people die. I’ve spent time in areas of extreme poverty and seen incredible needless pain and anguish. And now these deaths in Texas, especially the children…. These kinds of problems will challenge any Christian who thinks deeply about them. How can God allow this? I wish I understood.

I cannot explain the mystery of human suffering. I can, however, lament, and the biblical writers give us ample material for lamentation. The Bible resists easy answers to suffering, and it simultaneously shows us how to engage the reality of suffering with brutal honesty. Consider the brief but powerful Psalm 13:

How long, Lord? Will you forget me forever?
How long will you hide your face from me?
² How long must I wrestle with my thoughts
and day after day have sorrow in my heart?
How long will my enemy triumph over me?

³ Look on me and answer, Lord my God.
Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep in death,
⁴ and my enemy will say, “I have overcome him,”
and my foes will rejoice when I fall.

⁵ But I trust in your unfailing love;
my heart rejoices in your salvation.
⁶ I will sing the Lord’s praise,
for he has been good to me.

The psalmist is honest about the depth of his suffering, and yet the life with God he has lived up to this point sustains his faith.

Psalm 42 sounds more like a struggle to maintain faith by one who feels forgotten by God. Verses 9-11 read,

I say to God my Rock,
“Why have you forgotten me?
Why must I go about mourning,
oppressed by the enemy?”
¹⁰ My bones suffer mortal agony
as my foes taunt me,
saying to me all day long,
“Where is your God?”

¹¹ Why, my soul, are you downcast?
Why so disturbed within me?
Put your hope in God,
for I will yet praise him,
my Savior and my God.

Psalm 74 begins with what sounds like despair:

O God, why have you rejected us forever?
Why does your anger smolder against the sheep of your pasture?

Unlike many of the psalms of lament, this one does not end in a declaration of faith. Rather, it simply ends with an appeal to God to uphold the very standards he has established:

Have regard for your covenant,
because haunts of violence fill the dark places of the land.
²¹ Do not let the oppressed retreat in disgrace;
may the poor and needy praise your name.
²² Rise up, O God, and defend your cause;
remember how fools mock you all day long.
²³ Do not ignore the clamor of your adversaries,
the uproar of your enemies, which rises continually.

Of the Bible’s 150 psalms, about 65 are psalms of lament. Sadness, pain, anguish, suffering—these are part of the human experience, and Scripture speaks to these aspects of our lives in powerful ways.

Another resource is the Book of Lamentations, a collection of five poems written in the wake of the Babylonian Exile of 586 BC. Judah and Jerusalem were destroyed. The Temple of Solomon lay in ruins. The people were taken away from the land God had promised to Abraham and made to reside among strangers who did not know the Lord.

¹⁹ I remember my affliction and my wandering,
the bitterness and the gall.
²⁰ I well remember them,
and my soul is downcast within me.

No doubt many in my beloved home state feel something like this in their souls today. Pray for those who have lost loved ones, especially those who lost children. Pray that God will sustain them in the midst of such immense pain. Pray that God will put people around them who have the strength and faith to walk alongside them through this valley. Paul tells us to “mourn with those who mourn” (Rom 12:15). He teaches us, “If one part suffers, every part suffers with it” (1 Cor 12:26). Christ teaches us in the Parable of the Good Samaritan to come alongside those who suffer, even the stranger, even those who may not share our faith (Luke 10:25-37). The Christian response is not to explain away suffering, but to be present with those who experience it.

O merciful God, and heavenly Father, who has taught us in your holy Word that you do not willingly afflict or grieve us; Look with pity, we beseech you, upon the sorrows of the people of Texas for whom our prayers are offered. Remember them, O Lord, in mercy; endue their souls with patience; comfort them with a sense of your goodness; lift up your countenance upon them, and give them peace; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen (adapted from the 1928 BCP).