Dave’s sermon on Elijah tonight looked at how hard it can be when God does not necessarily work in the ways we expect. The poem ‘Secure Uncertainty’ reflects my own thoughts on this theme, fuelled by our studies on the Psalms of Lament which give us permission to come before God with all our questions, doubts and complaints.

Paul knew whom he believed.

John told us how he knew what love was.

Certainty and knowledge run through the Bible

Like a river dissecting the very heart of a village,

Bolstering us, boosting us, lifting us up so our heads don’t go under water.

We know.

We believe.

We are secure.

 

But then the storm comes,

Sweeping us off our feet,

Battering us mercilessly against the rocks,

Pummelling our flesh till its misshapen bruises

Form a rainbow of colours revealing internal bleeding.

 

Now, certainty is gone.

Questions without answers lie mangled at our feet

Like detritus thrown out to sea.

We gaze into the abyss,

Wondering how a benevolent God can be so cruel,

Afraid to lift our heads lest another blow rains down.

 

Is God capricious?

How can we reconcile His love with this maelstrom of fury?

Why ever did He let loose this hurricane of doubt?

How can we ever reach the hilltop of security when we are crushed by despair?

It’s not just the destruction and pain and personal suffering which haunt,

But the tumour of uncertainty eats away at us,

Unvoiced, yet slowly sapping faith.

 

We stand up shakily,

Brushing down our soiled garment,

Attempting to limp on as if nothing has happened.

But where there was once security and shiny eyes,

Now insecurity reigns

And coldness seeps through.

 

How do we regain our confidence in God?

We believe He’s there,

But we’re not sure we want that God anymore.

We want the cosy, fluffy version

Who leaves us alone in delusion

And comfortable unbelief.

This God is demanding, fierce,

Unrelenting and uncompromising.

For centuries we’ve been told God never changes,

But in our eyes now He’s changed,

And we’re rocked.

 

We may still outwardly conform to religious practices,

But if this inner dissonance is never repaired,

Our faith will wither and die like crunchy autumn leaves, brittle, unsustainable.

If we never learn to live with mystery, accepting our finite limitations,

Our hearts will grow cold

And we will shrivel away.

Only as we limp through the stages of confusion

Can we find the sunshine of assurance

In the wreckage of the storm.

 

I don’t know the answers.

I still don’t understand,

But I will still run to You,

My Saviour and my God.

For even if I have no other hiding place,

I will hide myself in You,

And I will be safe in the shadow of Your wings.

 

Love and fury,

Compassion and wrath,

Mercy and justice,

Kindness and uncompromising holiness

All wrapped in one God.

May the colours of the prism

Dazzle me as I sit with You in silence,

For You are light

And in You there is no darkness at all.