There are times when my young daughter is unspeakably angry with me because I have done something inconceivably unfair in her mind. She screams and kicks and rages against me – all the while clinging to me desperately for comfort.
That’s a lot like how I feel today. When death and destruction are dealt out by means of bombs or guns, at least we can say, “This is the work of some evil, deranged man.” But what are we to think, what are we to say, when the wrath of nature, surely and solely under God’s control, devastates towns and kills defenseless people? How can we reconcile a loving creator who knows when a single sparrow falls with one who unleashes winds that fling horses into the sky and drop brick walls on babies? But where are we to look for help and healing but to the one who has borne all our sorrows?
I have to believe that just as my daughter, in her inexperience and ignorance and limited perspective, cannot always understand my actions, I, in the limitations of being human, cannot always comprehend the workings of God. Just as she instinctively hurls her raging self into the safety of my embrace, I can do nothing but throw my raging self into his arms.