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Failure to Render Aid
by Mitch Land
In the wake of the horror and suffering of the recent terrorist attacks on Manhattan and the Pentagon, and recently the attacks on London, it has been heartwarming to see so many acts of heroism, beginning with the men and women who met a hellish death as they raced up the stairs of the World Trade Center to save lives. Thousands of volunteers, lavish financial and material donations and long lines of blood donors have demonstrated the compassion of the American people in a time of crisis. We so honor such self sacrifice, in fact, that we even have laws that punish people for failing to stop and render aid to those in need.
Still, I am beginning to hear the question, "Why did God allow so much pain and suffering?" I’ve had reason to ask myself this question many times in the last few years—a very painful reason. I thought about my boy as I listened to television interviews of people talking about their loved ones lost in the infernos of New York and Washington.
On February 21, 1996 when he was 21 years old, my son, Austin, was driving to work when a drunk driver crossed the highway and slammed head-on into my son’s car. Austin was wearing his seat belt, and his airbag deployed; he was killed anyway. The driver didn’t die, but he was seriously hurt.
After the tragedy, there were times when I would be ambushed by anguish. I would groan deeply and double over clutching my stomach in pain of loss. I’d fall to the ground and cry out and sob. I would yell at God and ask, "Why? Why did you take him from me? I can’t bear the pain!" I would think of all the atrocities in the world that God allows, of the six million Jews murdered by Hitler and of all the terrorist attacks on innocent people. "Why, God, don’t you come here and do something about all this?" I cried out.
We all experience pain and suffering. Some have suffered much more than others. Some people feel the pain of others deeply. Sometimes there is someone to blame, someone to whom we can direct our hatred and bitterness. In those instances we lash out at the offender and attempt to deliver the pain and suffering we feel upon them in a type of revenge. But the pain and bitterness and anger only grow in us, and we find no relief in that. I know because I regularly speak to groups of people hurt by drunk drivers, and among those people I’ve met men and women with a hatred that has twisted their lives.
I searched for a reason for my suffering and emptiness. Soon after Austin’s death I was able to tell the drunk driver at his sentencing that I forgave him and wished with all my heart that he would be freed from carrying this burden the rest of his life. But if my bitterness and pain was not from hating that man, why was I continuing to suffer?
Sometimes we can't identify a perpetrator, and we see the pain as senseless and without cause. Perhaps the pain is caused by disease or a natural disaster or a freak accident or inexplicable depression. Sometimes we blame ourselves and eventually self-destruct. But when we are out of options, or when we have vented our emotions on others, we finally turn our rage upon the real source of our anger: God.
After all, since he is God, then he is at least guilty of failing to render aid. If a heart surgeon is walking along the sidewalk, and a stranger drops to the ground at the surgeon's feet in an apparent heart attack, we would revile the surgeon who passes by. The surgeon, of all people, could have saved this stranger. He or she had it in his or her power to save the dying person and failed to render aid. We would shun such a person and even consider that surgeon evil. The surgeon may as well have killed the heart-stricken victim by negligence.
So it is with God, we reason in our hearts. He has the power to save, to heal, to raise the dead, to defend and protect. And yet he seems to pass on by. Wasn’t it Jesus Christ himself who told the story of the Good Samaritan, of the man who spent his own time and money to rescue his enemy rendered helpless by robbers? And what of the Golden Rule? That’s in the Bible, too. And the God of the Bible claims to be the God of this world. So he, if he indeed exists, must be a liar. He must be malevolent; perhaps even demented, we may reason.
At first we hesitate to curse God for his seeming reluctance to intervene. After all, if he’s the one who allowed such pain, or caused such pain, he could wreak some horrible vengeance on us for our impudence. He could "strike us down with lightning," as the saying goes. Or cause our business to fail or our relationships to sour. But sometimes we’re in such pain that we don’t care if he hears us and takes offense because we resent him for what he has done or failed to do. We hate him for claiming to be all-powerful and then standing by as evil is poured out upon us. With just one wink of his eye, he could have disrupted the plans of the terrorists who destroyed the World Trade Center.
Where are you God? Where were you when those innocent people were destroyed in New York? If you exist, if there is a God who cares, then why do I experience such pain and suffering in my life? Why should I believe in a God who cares?
And yet, something happened to me. Somehow the burden of my grief was lifted from my shoulders. Somehow the joy of my life was restored. It came as God revealed an important truth to me: that I blamed him—not for taking my son, but for failing to protect him. I had to actually say, "God, I forgive you for not protecting Austin." In that moment, the burden of my pain was lifted and the healing started in my heart.
I still hurt. I still miss my son. But I’m no longer bent over in the pain of anguish. A peace has flooded my heart that is beyond human understanding; it is supernatural. When I was at the end of myself, God reached out and healed my bitterness. The help came from outside of myself—outside of this world. It came from the only one with the power to truly heal and forgive.
Why? And why did it come to me and not to others? And why did it take so long?
I remember times when my children would come to me with a friend in tow and ask if the friend could stay the night. Not tonight, was my answer. "But why?" they would whine. "Because I said so," was my reply. When they continued to plead, I would have to take them aside for a reprimand. I would explain that as the father, I have a much wider view of what is going on. I consider issues that never enter my child’s head. Perhaps my answer to the "why" would necessarily hurt the feelings of the friend, perhaps we are having a surprise party for my child that I don’t want to give away, or perhaps I had simply planned for some exclusive family time that night. Whatever the reason, trust in my judgment is required, because I’m the parent and I’m older and wiser and can see further ahead. And because I love my children, and they know it, and because I have demonstrated my love to them. I might be able to explain the "why" later, but sometimes not.
Why did I have to wait three years to discover that I needed to forgive God for not protecting my son? Why did God not protect my son? But he is God. He does exist. He can see much wider and further than can I. I choose to trust him. He is not demented and he is not malevolent. He truly wants what’s best for me. He loves me with a perfect love. He watches my every move and he is aware of all I encounter and will encounter. So I have nothing to fear. I’m in good hands, caring hands.
I got into those hands by choice. Trained philosophers are better equipped to write about the importance of choice and free will in the debate about the existence of God. However, I do know and can say that God’s love is free for the taking. We only have to receive it. We need only to open our hearts to it. I was correct: my son was God’s to begin with. If God created us, he has every right to us. And so we can place ourselves in no better care than the God who designed us and loves us. He has given up that right to us so that we can come back to him of our own free will, of our own choosing. He is simply waiting to pour out his love and peace and joy and to take our burdens upon himself.
God already carried the heaviest burden ever. When his son Jesus Christ died on the cross, he took all the guilt of our sin upon himself. And yet he said in the Bible, "Come to me all you who are weary and heavy laden and I will give you rest, for my burden is easy and my yoke is light." Jesus was God and because he was God, he was able to carry the burden of the world like a fly on a camel’s back. It was easy for him. He wants to carry our burdens; they add no weight to his load. He pleads for the privilege of bearing our worries and concerns and pain. For although he can carry our burdens with a leap of joy, one little particle of our pain, our suffering, our anxious thoughts will crush us. It will kill us. It was killing me.
God in Jesus Christ is the heart surgeon standing on the path crying and pleading to help us. For, indeed, we are the ones dying of heart failure. He is begging us to put our trust in him, in his expert hands. But so often we push him away with the last vestige of our strength and say, "No, I don’t need you. I will get better. I can heal myself. Or someone else will come along and heal me."
Don’t wait any longer. Simply tell him you accept him. Reach out and ask for his forgiveness for your reluctance and belligerence. Forgive him, if necessary, and then discover his love flood your heart in return.
Take a look at your life. How would you describe it? Contented? Rushed? Exciting? Stressful? Moving forward? Holding back? For many of us it’s all of the above at times. There are things we dream of doing one day, there are things we wish we could forget. In the Bible, it says that Jesus came to make all things new. What would your life look like if you could start over with a clean slate?
Living with hope
If you are looking for peace, there is a way to balance your life. No one can be perfect, or have a perfect life. But every one of us has the opportunity to experience perfect grace through a personal relationship with God through His Son, Jesus Christ.
You can receive Christ right now by faith through prayer. Praying is simply talking to God. God knows your heart and is not so concerned with your words as He is with the attitude of your heart. Here's a suggested prayer:
Lord Jesus, I want to know you personally. Thank you for dying on the cross for my sins. I open the door of my life to you and ask you to come in as my Savior and Lord. Take control of my life. Thank you for forgiving my sins and giving me eternal life. Make me the kind of person you want me to be.
Does this prayer express the desire of your heart? You can pray it right now, and Jesus Christ will come into your life, just as He promised.
Is this the life for you?
If you invited Christ into your life, thank God often that He is in your life, that He will never leave you and that you have eternal life. As you learn more about your relationship with God, and how much He loves you, you'll experience life to the fullest.
Mitch Land is professor of journalism at the University of North Texas.