There are moments in life that suck the air from our lungs. A devastating diagnosis. A shocking text. A sudden loss.

Thirteen years ago, the air was ripped from my own lungs after a jolting, late night phone call from my dad. 

“Hey, Kate. Is Glendon there with you? I want him there with you.”

“Hey, Dad. Yeah, yeah. He’s here.”

Then, a terrible string of words fell from Dad’s shaky voice, “Ok. Uh. Uh. Del was killed in a car accident tonight…” 

In 2007, my beloved brother-in-law, Del, was hit by an impaired driver while heading home from a weeklong work-related trip as an officer with the Florida Fish & Wildlife Commission. He was only five miles from the arms of his expectant wife, five miles from the snuggles of two eager boys. He and my sister had recently celebrated 10 years of marriage and were thriving in every area of their lives. I ached for her -- for all of us. 

The questions began. How would we get through this? If our loving God would allow a foolish driver to take this wonderful husband and father, then what did I know of Love? The Bible encourages us to trust in the Lord but how do we do that after tragedy? How can we possibly stay close to the One who claims to be Love and yet allows the searing pain? This event shattered my heart and my (poorly constructed) theology.

I wrestled for years with the goodness of God and still do some days. In my humanity, I struggle to understand Love’s purpose in that loss and in the many unexpected losses since. I believe Del loved the Lord. I believe he was walking in grace. I believe we will all be reunited one day but that knowledge did little to alleviate my pain at the time. I wanted more; I wanted Del back with us.

With my robust spiritual upbringing and years of Bible study, I thought I had a pretty good understanding of the character of God but when the unthinkable happened, I was left with a wound deeper than those years of training could take me. The taunting whispers from the enemy persisted, “You still think Love is real? Surely, Love would have prevented the accident. This Love you claim to know cannot be trusted.” In my pain, I allowed those futile thoughts to steal too much of my time and energy. For months, they swirled in my head as I tried to make sense of the senseless.

Eventually, I began to emerge from the dark. Giving myself time and space to grieve and connecting with those who listened without offering empty religious platitudes helped me to move forward. (I also recommend trauma therapy, a good grief counselor, and ample time outdoors.)  

In that season, I discovered Mark Buchanan, author of the book, Your God is Too Safe. Buchanan recalls the scene from C.S. Lewis’s book, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, when the  protagonist Lucy asks the Beavers (a literal family of beavers) whether the great lion, Aslan (the God-like character), is safe. Mr. Beaver erupts,”Safe? Safe? Who said anything about safe? Of course he isn’t safe. But he’s good.” 

I’ve read the Chronicles of Narnia countless times but had never considered the weight of this particular scene. Prior to Del’s death, I lacked the required experience to relate to the truth of Mr. Beaver’s words. Now, they meant something.

Mr. Beaver’s words were pivotal for me as I began to process the reality of Del’s absence and the goodness of God in our pain. I slowly began to see that Love’s idea of safe stretched far beyond my own limited perspective. Physical safety was never a measure of Divine goodness. So many deaths, particularly martyrs, can attest to that. Love is present and good regardless of outcomes. I began to let the truth, from the mouth of an oversized rodent, take root in my mind.

A month after that awful phone call, I was outside swinging with my 5 year-old nephew, when he blurted out, “Aunt Katie, why didn’t God keep Daddy safe?” With a shaky voice, I stammered, “He didn’t keep Daddy safe the way we want him safe. We want him safe here with us, but he’s safe with Jesus now. I know this hurts, buddy. I’m so sorry.” 

Even as I said it, I knew this was small consolation for a little guy trying to make sense of his daddy’s absence -- small consolation for many of us navigating the twisted path of grief. My prayer for my nephews and niece is that they would know the goodness of God -- not despite -- but through their loss. That even when they cannot fathom how their pain fits within the Divine puzzle, that they -- and all of us -- will believe by faith Mr. Beaver’s simple, profound message.

I end with a passage from the Old Testament book of Habakkuk. Here, the prophet Habbakuk is having a serious conversation with God on the meaning of suffering. God responds to Habbakuk’s angst with these six words, “The righteous will live by faith.” In his book, The Holy Wild, Mark Buchanan offers a bit of wisdom behind God’s seemingly heartless response to His prophet: 

“At first blush, this seems cold comfort...An ice pack applied to a ruptured organ. A tin shack erected against a typhoon. But it’s infinitely more than that. It is, in fact, a truth utterly basic to life. The core of the Christian life is to live by faith. And faith is finally this: 

resting so utterly in the character of God -- in the ultimate goodness of God

-- that you trust Him even when He seems untrustworthy.”

Even in the terminal diagnosis.

Even in the loss of a child.

Even in the untimely death of a dear brother-in-law.

Even in the fiery helicopter crash that recently killed nine beloved souls.

In our journey with grief, we can find rest in the truth that Love is rarely safe in the way we would choose but Love is always, always good. 

ABOUT THE BLOGGER

Katie Carper and her husband of 17 years--her co-warrior and confidant--have four children. Two came to them through adoption and one has the gift of Down syndrome. In the midst of writing and maintaining the trifecta of marriage, home, and community, Katie is grateful for strong coffee, belly laughs, good books, and loyal friends. She and her family attend the Jennersville campus.

UPCOMING EVENT

Christ’s Prophesies of the End Times Seminar - Part 1

Sunday, February 23, 2020, 6:30 PM - 8:30 PM

Join us for three consecutive Sunday evenings (Feb. 23, March 1, and March 8) as we study and discuss Christ’s prophesies of the End Times as revealed in Matthew and Revelation. Led by Ed Foley and Leigh Kelleher, we will look at the various views of the prophesies, discuss how biblical scholars interpret the scriptures and examine the various (and much debated!) timelines and events that may unfold before, during, and after Christ’s prophesied return to earth. The course is targeted to be of interest to all levels of Christian background. Registration is required. No childcare will be provided.

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