Denver Seminary

" YOUR WIFE HAS A RARE FORM OF DEMENTIA," SAID THE PSYCHIATRIST OVER THE PHONE. Before this diagnosis, Becky had spent two weeks in a behavioral health unit. We had suffered long through her chronic illnesses, including mental confusion. Now I knew more suffering lay ahead, suffering of a new strain. My wife of 30 years and I would live through a narrative of dread—her unstoppable decline and death due to this illness. That was March of 2014. We transitioned into a new and terrible life shaped by Becky's debilities. My wife was no longer able to remain unsupervised for very long, so a helper moved into our new home. This was only a foretaste of what was to come. A Christian woman gifted in writing and editing, a soul that crackled with intelligence and wit, would lose her ability to write, edit, and even read. How did I, a philosophy professor, find meaning and grace through this suffering, this unbidden misery and anguish? THE KNOWLEDGE OF TOO MUCH AND TOO LITTLE We philosophers want to know things, to give strong arguments about life's most important matters. God called me to be a philosopher, and I have tried to serve Him in this for my 23 years at Denver Seminary. Through nearly 40 years of research, teaching, writing, and preaching, I am convinced that Christianity is true, reasonable, and profoundly meaningful. I do not fear engaging the world of ideas with the truth of the gospel. How did I, a philosophy professor, find meaning and grace through this suffering, this unbidden misery and anguish? My knowledge of God is due to God's grace as a communicator and His gift of intellect. I can claim no credit, but I do bank on knowledge. Jesus, in His life and death, made the Father known (John 1:18). The Bible is God's gift of knowledge, as the Apostle Peter tells us: We also have the prophetic message as something completely reliable, and you will do well to pay attention to it, as to a light shining in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts. Above all, you must understand that no prophecy of Scripture came about by the prophet's own interpretation of things. For prophecy never had its origin in the human will, but prophets, though human, spoke from God as they were carried along by the Holy Spirit (1 Pet. 1:19–21; see also 2 Tim. 3:15–17). Yet within this secure circle of knowledge are pockmarks of ignorance and lament within which my mind cannot find rest and where grace seems absent. Yes, I know too much to turn away from my God, but I know too little to make peace with this suffering Becky and I must withstand. Where is God's grace, His gift of love, in the midst of this? Is there grace in grief? THE LIBERTY TO LAMENT The liberty to lament is a gift, albeit a peculiar one. We are graced to suffer well in a world where that is rare. Scripture is full of souls grieving their losses and imploring heaven through their distress. Lament is not mere complaint. It is not peevish. It is not selfish. It is, rather, the cry of the heart before a seemingly empty, but actually hearing, heaven. About 60 psalms are characterized by lament, according to Glenn Pemberton in Hurting with God. They get raw. Heman the Ezrahite penned but one psalm, and it was not happy. However, it begins with earnest prayer. Lord, You are the God who saves me; day and night I cry out to You. May my prayer come before You; turn Your ear to my cry (Ps. 88:1–2). While all but one of the other psalms of lament— no matter how gritty—resolve into praise or supplication, Hemen refuses to cooperate. After reciting his woes of chronic illnesses, loneliness, and hopelessness, he concludes his complaint before "the God who saves me" in this way: From my youth I have suffered and been close to death; I have borne Your terrors and am in despair Your wrath has swept over me; Your terrors have destroyed me. All day long they surround me like a flood; they have completely engulfed me. You have taken from me friend and neighbor darkness is my closest friend (Ps. 88:15–18). 8 SPRING 2016 MAKES YOU THINK snowsoftJ4C/iStock

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