I SAT AT DINNER . . .
across the table from Dave (not his real name), who casually mentioned the recent death of his dad. In a polite, conversational way, I asked how old his father was. "I think he was in his late fifties," he replied.

I must have looked puzzled, so Dave explained: "I never knew my dad. He left mom when I was an infant. Over the years he would call from time to time, and I would invite him to come meet his grandchildren, but . . . he never showed up."

I pressed on, "How did it happen?"

"An automobile accident," Dave said. "He was hit by a tractor trailer and, they tell me, he was killed instantly."

"Did you go to the funeral?"

"No. It was 1,000 miles away, and I wouldn't have known anyone there, and we didn't have the money to travel and, besides, I had never seen him." It was recited rather nonchalantly.

I was thinking, "But why didn't you want to take advantage of that last opportunity?"

"You know," I said, "I read a list of quotes yesterday entitled 'Lessons I've Learned About Life.'" My voice was growing weak, but I continued, "And among those lines was this statement by a 53-year-old man: 'I've learned that regardless of your relationship with your parents, you miss them terribly after they die.'"

"Yes, that's true," Dave responded. But he smiled politely as he said it and I had the strange sense that, at least in those moments, the passing of his dad had affected me more than him. "Death" and "father" sound like clues to an event that would stir up some kind of emotions. But Dave appeared unfazed.

I've been wrestling lately with some issues that have prompted me, again, to wonder how Christians are supposed to feel as they "continue to work out [their] salvation with fear and trembling" (Philippians 2:12). Does the exhortation to "rejoice always" (Philippians 4:4) mean that we pretend everything is hunky-dory when it isn't? Or is there something about walking with Christ that's supposed to act like spiritual novocaine, numbing us to the pains that carnal folks experience?

In his book, Trusting God, Jerry Bridges acknowledges, "God's people are not immune from such pain. In fact it often seems as if theirs is more severe, more frequent, more unexplainable, and more deeply felt than that of the unbeliever."

Which raises the question, "Am I willing to trust God?" It seems to me that this is one of the basic questions of the Christian life.

Bridges' answer is, "God views our distrust of Him as seriously as He views our disobedience. When the people of Israel were hungry they spoke against God, saying, 'Can God spread a table in the desert? . . . Can He supply meat for His people?" the next two verses tell us, "When the Lord heard them, He was very angry . . . for they did not believe in God or trust in His deliverance' (Psalm 78:19-22).

"In order to trust God, we must always view our adverse circumstances through the eyes of faith, not of sense. And just as the faith of salvation comes through hearing the message of the gospel (Romans 10:17), so the faith to trust God in adversity comes through the Word of God alone. It is only in the Scriptures that we find an adequate view of God's relationship to and involvement in our painful circumstances. It is only from the Scriptures, applied to our hearts by the Holy Spirit, that we receive the grace to trust God in adversity."

That's the significance of the meetings we have each Sunday — opening the Scriptures to learn more about what it means to trust God. Therefore, we'll do it again this week.

Trusting Him with you,
Richard