Hope is Gone and God is Good?

It wasn’t until I dove headfirst into the broken stories of a society gasping for air that I really began questioning the goodness of a God I had always believed to be good. I thought my faith was strong but it wasn’t long until I was gasping for air, doubting hope exists for this bottomless pit of hopelessness.

I had known it would threaten to drown me if I chose to dive in. I knew I would find terrifying sea creatures and that my oxygen would nearly become depleted. But I couldn’t have been prepared.

All the uggglyyyyyy, how could I bear it? Thoughts of the evil I was constantly hearing and seeing began swirling in my head until I could hardly see. Darkness crept into my heart (or was it there all along?) as I wrestled to bring God into the mess. I thought I knew God but I didn’t know God for these dark things and wasn’t sure how to find Him here. My comfort zone could bring back the comfort of a good God I had known. I wanted Him back, the God that made sense in my world.

But what if I was willing to wrestle with my question and what if I found God to be bigger than I had ever imagined?

One thing I knew, the God I had known for so long wasn’t going to work for the deep murky waters of a society that had lost hope. Either God was not good after all or He was only good for “a good life” or there was a part of His heart I did not yet know.

And so I wrestled. Swimming hard in the deep murky waters of hopelessness, I searched for even the smallest flicker of hope. If there was a lighthouse in this storm, I wanted to find it. I needed to know if He was here in the mirky waters.

What if His power could calm this storm? What if He is hope and that hope is most available for the most hopeless? I continued to swim and I continued to wrestle and I continued to search for hope in this dark place.

Suddenly, there He was, a pillar of light and overshadowing hope offering rest to any weary traveler. He had been there all along.

His hands were scarred which meant they had been bleeding. His heart was kind which meant He must have faced cruelty. His heart was broken, which meant He must have experienced brokenness too. There was a healed wound in His side, which meant He must have been pierced with evil too.

Maybe I wasn’t alone. And maybe none of us are alone.

Maybe He didn’t come to wrap us all in His arms and keep us away from evil but maybe He came so we wouldn’t be alone when pierced with evil.

All of hell lashed out on Him that night. And He allowed it.

He allowed evil to beat Him so we could be freed from evil. He was willing to bleed so all our bleeding could be healed. He has scars in His hands, even now, so all our wounds can be healed into scars that show us hope.

It wasn’t until I dove headfirst into the murkiest and darkest of waters that I found His goodness to be the most good. Because God’s goodness is most good when we are in the darkest places of wickedness.