The Goodness of God and Importance of Grammar
It's been seven years now since we held our fourth daughter, Tirzah. Seven years since we stroked her hair, played with her fingers, and cuddled her against us. Seven years since we pushed a button that called a nurse that took her lifeless body from us for the duration of this life. Seven years.
I've been very convicted lately of my own heart attitude, seen most clearly in my use of conjunctions, of all things. After Tirzah died, I've often said "God is good in spite of our daughter's death." And that is very much true, but I have nothing to absolve God of. God isn't good "in spite of" anything. He simply is.
Yet so often, that is the pattern of my heart. God is good despite death. God is good but there is so much suffering in this world. God is good, however my day is not. God is good, yet I still feel the need to complain.
So what about this? God is good.
God is good.
God is good. And we could end right there, and it would be true, no matter what else happened in our lives.
But, God is so good, He gave us rebellious sinners a way to be in relationship with Him in spite of our rebellion. God is good, and He saved me. Do we even need to go on?!
And yet. And yet, God you are so good, and you would be good if I had nothing to eat, yet you have provided food. Thank you.
And yet, God you are so good, and you would be good if I could no longer move, yet you have given me the ability to wrap my arms around my husband and feel grass under my feet. Thank you.
And yet, God you are so good, and you would be good if I was homeless, but on top of giving me salvation and eternal life through your Son, you've given me a warm house and a soft bed and running water. Thank you.
God you are so good, and you would be good if every single one of my children ceased to draw breath. If they all died, or if none of them had ever been created, you would still be God and you would still be good. But in your goodness you've given us four daughters to live this life with and a fifth that we will spend eternity with. You could have spared us the grief of the loss of our daughter, but in doing so we'd be spared an eternity of worshiping you with her beside us. You could have spared us the grief of her loss but in doing so I would be so comfortable here, so tempted to believe that this life was where my hope is. Thank you. Thank you for the months of getting to know our silly girl who would do somersaults in my belly when I'd eat the spiciest salsa I could get my hands on. Thank you for the way she'd kick her daddy when he'd put his hand on my belly. Thank you for the quiet hours we spent with her, saying hello and saying goodbye, while the rest of the world slept on that September 6th morning. Thank you for a brain that retains memories, for the ability to close my eyes and still feel the weight of her in my arms, the spiky eyelashes and silken hair and velvet skin under my fingertips. Thank you.
Today, I will not say that God is good in spite of my daughter's death. I will say that God is good, and God will be good no matter what may happen to me in this life. And I will marvel in the lavish grace God has poured out on us, a grace that spills over from that goodness. Grace, even today. Goodness, until my last breath. And beyond.
I've been very convicted lately of my own heart attitude, seen most clearly in my use of conjunctions, of all things. After Tirzah died, I've often said "God is good in spite of our daughter's death." And that is very much true, but I have nothing to absolve God of. God isn't good "in spite of" anything. He simply is.
Yet so often, that is the pattern of my heart. God is good despite death. God is good but there is so much suffering in this world. God is good, however my day is not. God is good, yet I still feel the need to complain.
So what about this? God is good.
God is good.
God is good. And we could end right there, and it would be true, no matter what else happened in our lives.
But, God is so good, He gave us rebellious sinners a way to be in relationship with Him in spite of our rebellion. God is good, and He saved me. Do we even need to go on?!
And yet. And yet, God you are so good, and you would be good if I had nothing to eat, yet you have provided food. Thank you.
And yet, God you are so good, and you would be good if I could no longer move, yet you have given me the ability to wrap my arms around my husband and feel grass under my feet. Thank you.
And yet, God you are so good, and you would be good if I was homeless, but on top of giving me salvation and eternal life through your Son, you've given me a warm house and a soft bed and running water. Thank you.
God you are so good, and you would be good if every single one of my children ceased to draw breath. If they all died, or if none of them had ever been created, you would still be God and you would still be good. But in your goodness you've given us four daughters to live this life with and a fifth that we will spend eternity with. You could have spared us the grief of the loss of our daughter, but in doing so we'd be spared an eternity of worshiping you with her beside us. You could have spared us the grief of her loss but in doing so I would be so comfortable here, so tempted to believe that this life was where my hope is. Thank you. Thank you for the months of getting to know our silly girl who would do somersaults in my belly when I'd eat the spiciest salsa I could get my hands on. Thank you for the way she'd kick her daddy when he'd put his hand on my belly. Thank you for the quiet hours we spent with her, saying hello and saying goodbye, while the rest of the world slept on that September 6th morning. Thank you for a brain that retains memories, for the ability to close my eyes and still feel the weight of her in my arms, the spiky eyelashes and silken hair and velvet skin under my fingertips. Thank you.
Today, I will not say that God is good in spite of my daughter's death. I will say that God is good, and God will be good no matter what may happen to me in this life. And I will marvel in the lavish grace God has poured out on us, a grace that spills over from that goodness. Grace, even today. Goodness, until my last breath. And beyond.
posted by The Bakers at 9:12 AM
3 comments
