A few weeks ago, I was on the overnight ferry from Hull to Rotterdam. I have often used it and have even come to befriend some of the crew.
There is always an apology that the ferry will depart late but the assurance that all lost time will be made up. I have to admit that they keep their promise.
Nevertheless, upon boarding, there is the knowledge that the trip will take 15 hours. It takes 20 minutes to look at my cabin, go round the duty-free shop, visit each of the three decks and look at the menu (which is the same as the last visit and always very good!).
It was nearly 11.00pm and I was sitting in the Moonlight Lounge, listening to the pianist, eating an apple and reading a rather good book. Lounging around the table next to me were a couple of Dutch men. Impeccably dressed, they looked like two well-contented businessmen who had pulled off a good deal in the UK. They were sharing a large bottle of wine and each smoking a sweet-smelling cigar as they talked and laughed. As I occasionally peered over my book, something inside me envied them. They seemed to have life well sorted out and appeared to have no cares in the world. It wasn't quite like that for me.
Dramatic change
Within half an hour, the scene had dramatically changed. We were now out from the cover of the estuary and the North Sea was living up to the Force 10 gales we had been warned about. Bottles in the bar smashed to the floor, and the people walking looked as though they were drunken sailors as they reeled back to their cabins. The pianist switched on to automatic play. My two friends put out their cigars, finished their wine and made a hurried exit. Soon I was the only one in the Moonlight Lounge. I was still reading, but I had seen illustrated again that the true test of whether life has been sorted out is not in times when the journey is smooth, but when times are rough.
None of us relish suffering. We know that Jesus suffered on the cross for us, paying for our sin, but in the West, we run from suffering and shun it. We ask God: 'Why?' and grumble when he does not answer. To remember God in times of anguish is right. To expect him to satisfy our curiosity and tell us why is a mark of spiritual immaturity. The Psalmist reflected on this and wrote: 'Your footsteps were not known.' In other words, though we know that God has revealed himself, we do not know or understand all the workings of God. God cannot be categorised or pigeon-holed. He is far greater than the fickle, finite understanding and explanation of our minds. We rightly deplore idolatry, because God cannot be reduced to an image which can be seen or touched; similarly, God is bigger than and beyond human understanding. What a complement for God to make human beings in his image; what an insult for us to try to reduce him to our image. But there is a contentment with the unexplained, because we know and trust the One who is in control. He has given us repeated promises that he will never leave us or forsake us.
Unfathomable secrets
God has his unfathomable secrets. Sometimes we want to call God and put him on the carpet, but the truth is that God, being God, doesn't need to explain his actions to anyone. 'God's ways are higher than our ways, and his thoughts than our thoughts.' Job never knew why he was suffering as he did, but through it all, God had not lost control. Job was silenced when the Lord spoke to him again. As one sufferer put it: 'I had a million questions to ask God but when I met him, they all fled my mind, and it didn't matter.' The Psalmist felt his feet nearly stumble and his steps nearly slip when he looked around, until he went into the sanctuary of God and saw everything from an eternal perspective. Paul did not understand why his thorn in the flesh persisted but millions have experienced what Paul did - that God's grace was sufficient.
Equally, it may be that the Lord is drawing near to bless us immensely and we are not aware of him. When Abraham rested by the door at Mamre, he saw three travellers nearing the tent. To him, they were tired, thirsty wayfarers. He had no idea that they were angels. Think, too, of dreaming, and then wrestling, Jacob, who did not know that the presence of the Lord was in that place. We recall Moses at the burning bush; Joshua before the captain of the Lord of Hosts, and Job saying: 'When he passes me, I cannot see him; when he goes by me, I cannot perceive him.'
If prayers go unanswered, life appears unbearable, guidance is not forthcoming, dreams have all been shattered and God seems distant, God has not given up on you. The Lord does not always sound the bell to announce his presence, for that has been promised. As Matthew Henry said: 'The God of Israel, the Saviour, is sometimes a God who hides himself, but never a God who is absent; sometimes in the dark, but never at a distance.' We walk by faith, not by sight, and that means that there are times when we are not sure quite what God is doing, why he is doing it or where he is leading, but we continue by grace to do what is right and humbly walk with our God.
Joys in life for us, as Christians, are not dependent on a smooth ride or even careful explanations, for as Warren Wiersbe says: 'Explanations do not heal a broken heart, only love can do that.' Can I trust God enough, even if he never tells me why? God's way is 'in the sea, your path in the great waters, and your footsteps were not known' (Psalm 77.19). It is in knowing and trusting God that brings life, peace and tranquillity, not in crossing our fingers hoping that the comforts of life will never be taken away. We may even find that it is in the storms that the Lord draws closer and carefully refines us to make us more like Christ, whom we love.
Roger Carswell
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