I was reading a case study in a secular psychology book the other day and was heartbroken. The therapist was trying to move his client to a perspective where she recognized not that the cosmos hated her but that the cosmos was just indifferent to her situation. In the thick hardship of her life, she perceived, albeit for a slight moment before moving onwards, that the cosmic powers had dealt her an unfair deck of cards.
Recognizing that, in fact, no one actually cared was part of the process of coming back to ultimate reality. Can’t we relate to this woman? We are often excited until we flip those cards over, and then our hearts sink.
No answers. No perceived growth. No overwhelming joy. No overwhelming peace. If all of us are honest with each other and are willing to raise, in agreement, our hands in the life-school we attend, we will quickly realize that most of us are restless. We are not pleased with our own spiritual growth. We are still entangled by the various sins that have entangled us for years. Our marriages are still difficult. Our peace is still elusive. We don’t have answers to specific questions like, “What am I supposed to do with my life?” We don’t know what the next day holds or why we’re in the slump we’re in. We should try to obey as best we can. We should fight hard. We should love hard. We should seek to grow. We should seek the peace that passes all understanding. But what happens when all seems silent?
Is ultimate reality the reality of cosmic hate or indifference? Is there really a Being out there who minds our little planet, who minds the paper cuts we get on our fingers or the sorrow of bereavement? Is there a Being out there who cares what we do in this life, who wants us to do specific things to somehow make Him known? Is there One who cares about our unborn children or our loved ones who have passed away? Is it all silent? Is it all stillness?
These are good questions, but they’re not great questions. If there was such a Being, while the answers to these questions may prove fruitful, they will not ultimately prove sufficient. The only question that really matters is, “Is there really Someone out there?” Once that is answered, by the very nature of this Someone, all other questions will be dwarfed by the real obligation and privilege we have to treasure this One above all answers, sufferings, trials, weariness, sorrow, and everything. It’s not, again, that the answers to our questions are unimportant. They just aren’t enough. What would it mean for Him to give us all the answers? What would it mean if He made us absolutely perfect right now? What would it mean if we had absolute, unending joy right now when our selves are mixed with such contrariness and ugliness? It would mean that we would come to value His gifts above Him. It would mean that we would forget Him. We do it every day.
I like what the Bible says: “‘The LORD is my portion,’ says my soul, ‘therefore I will hope in him,'” (Lamentations 3:24). The Lord is my portion, not His answers. The Lord is my portion, not His gifts. Our unanswered questions, our real anguish, pain, and longing have nothing to do with cosmic indifference. God proved His cosmic love for us in that He became a child, moved through the stages of boyhood and adolescence, and died a sinner’s death on a cross. He proved His cosmic love in that He rose to transformed, glorified life. Our situations have nothing to do with cosmic hate or indifference. They have everything to do with a God who loves us too much to give us yet another idol. He is our portion. That is enough. He is enough.