Romans 8:28
In Susan Howatch's Absolute Truths, Lyle Ashworth, wife of Charles Asworth, the bishop of Starbridge, is infuriated by the verse, "And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God"(KJV). She says, "I still think that's the most infuriating sentence St. Paul ever wrote....It wouldn't calm me down....I'd just want to grab a gun ans shoot St. Paul"(40).
I relate to Lyle's irritation at this overused verse. Well-meaning Christians pick it up early in their Christian Language course and drop it wherever it seems appropriate. Your daughter finds out she has breast cancer--but don't worry, all things work together for the good. A marriage falls apart and the prayer group encourages, all things work together for the good.
There are a few different ways to go with this thought. One would deride the triteness of the Christian Language. A second would deride the unthoughtful Christian, who can rely only on that trite Christian Language. But instead, I would like to question whether or not the statement is true, as we've come to believe it.
But to do so, I would much prefer to use the word intermingle in place of works. It is simply my distaste for the word work, which to me implies a singular goal that must be met. I suppose I have great difficulty believing that everything I do has already been decided for me, and thus all things in my life are working to that goal. Something about losing my free will that irks me a bit. Intermingle conveys a relationship, a partnership between the events of our lives and the reactions we tender. Theologically, in my version of reality, which is the only version I have, I can come to grips with daily life and personal response relating to each other on a grand scale.
So, now that I've inserted my word, intermingle, now let me try to convince myself that truly all things intermingle for the good, with the qualification that this only occurs for those that love God. I believe I love God. Though as a Gemini, oops now I'm not doing so good at loving God, I tend to have these two personalities intermingling inside of me. But, I guess that you too, have two personalities working inside of you. St. Paul calls one of them the sinful nature. The other is the nature of God, which, I suppose, was left with us at creation--if you believe in creation. Like St. Paul, often I do things that I don't want to do, or at least don't mean to do. Because let's face it, many of the things that entice us are rather fun--which is an interesting idea that is expounded upon in Pudd'nhead Wilson's Calendar when it reads, "Adam was but human--this explains it all. He did not want the apple for the apple's sake; he only wanted it because it was forbidden. The mistake was in not forbidding the serpent; then he would have eaten the serpent."
So if I do thing that are in accordance with my sinful nature, at what point do I no longer love God? As a child, I was regularly asking Jesus to forgive me of my sins because it seemed to me at the time that after each sin, I was no longer a part of the fold. I spent a lot of time praying for forgiveness--ask my parents. How many sins does it take to get to the center of...oh that is something different. But in all reality, is this verse a truth to which we can hold dearly to. Meaning that, in the midst of the storm, the type of storm that even Jesus wouldn't have been able to sleep in, can we always rest easy knowing that all things are intermingling for the good.
Where is the good in the death of your sister? Hell, you can't even comfort yourself in knowing for certain that she is in a better place. Only God knows that for sure. And even if you could know that for certain, what good does it do you in the midst of your pain?
I relate to Lyle's irritation at this overused verse. Well-meaning Christians pick it up early in their Christian Language course and drop it wherever it seems appropriate. Your daughter finds out she has breast cancer--but don't worry, all things work together for the good. A marriage falls apart and the prayer group encourages, all things work together for the good.
There are a few different ways to go with this thought. One would deride the triteness of the Christian Language. A second would deride the unthoughtful Christian, who can rely only on that trite Christian Language. But instead, I would like to question whether or not the statement is true, as we've come to believe it.
But to do so, I would much prefer to use the word intermingle in place of works. It is simply my distaste for the word work, which to me implies a singular goal that must be met. I suppose I have great difficulty believing that everything I do has already been decided for me, and thus all things in my life are working to that goal. Something about losing my free will that irks me a bit. Intermingle conveys a relationship, a partnership between the events of our lives and the reactions we tender. Theologically, in my version of reality, which is the only version I have, I can come to grips with daily life and personal response relating to each other on a grand scale.
So, now that I've inserted my word, intermingle, now let me try to convince myself that truly all things intermingle for the good, with the qualification that this only occurs for those that love God. I believe I love God. Though as a Gemini, oops now I'm not doing so good at loving God, I tend to have these two personalities intermingling inside of me. But, I guess that you too, have two personalities working inside of you. St. Paul calls one of them the sinful nature. The other is the nature of God, which, I suppose, was left with us at creation--if you believe in creation. Like St. Paul, often I do things that I don't want to do, or at least don't mean to do. Because let's face it, many of the things that entice us are rather fun--which is an interesting idea that is expounded upon in Pudd'nhead Wilson's Calendar when it reads, "Adam was but human--this explains it all. He did not want the apple for the apple's sake; he only wanted it because it was forbidden. The mistake was in not forbidding the serpent; then he would have eaten the serpent."
So if I do thing that are in accordance with my sinful nature, at what point do I no longer love God? As a child, I was regularly asking Jesus to forgive me of my sins because it seemed to me at the time that after each sin, I was no longer a part of the fold. I spent a lot of time praying for forgiveness--ask my parents. How many sins does it take to get to the center of...oh that is something different. But in all reality, is this verse a truth to which we can hold dearly to. Meaning that, in the midst of the storm, the type of storm that even Jesus wouldn't have been able to sleep in, can we always rest easy knowing that all things are intermingling for the good.
Where is the good in the death of your sister? Hell, you can't even comfort yourself in knowing for certain that she is in a better place. Only God knows that for sure. And even if you could know that for certain, what good does it do you in the midst of your pain?
posted by Mr. McNamar at 3:38 PM
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