I do not now, nor will I ever, understand the way God chooses to run this world. For those of you worried that I’m about to go on ranting about how the world’s not fair and we can’t do anything about it, for those people, you can rest easy. That’s not what I want say today.
For those wishing to read something of that nature, pick up any book by Vonnegut. He’ll tell you, through various characters in various situations, that life is hard and that he never asked to be born anyway. But he’ll make you laugh as he depresses you, so that’s something.
And speaking of things that depress people, I had the unpleasant duty of cleaning out a dead coworker’s desk the other day. At the holy-crap-that’s-not-really-that-old-and-what-if-I-die-tomorrow age of 51, Mr. X croaked. One minute he was typing at his keyboard at home, the next he was slumped over very much not alive. He was dead before his head hit the keyboard. For those of you with short attention spans, please refer to the first sentence.
Mr. X was a hard worker. By that I mean that it was a rare week that he didn’t spend at least one day of the weekend at work. He also had numerous rental properties that required constant up keep. He was married, had two grown children, and a few grandchildren… and I hate using the past tense to describe those relationships. The last few years of his life (I can’t speak for the rest because I didn’t know him then) he didn’t have much time to spend at home. He had work to do and a future for his family to secure.
About a week and a half ago, Mr. X suffered a heart attack. He was rushed to the hospital where they installed a stint to keep his arteries open. Then they sent him home. He felt better, much better in fact. He spent time with his wife, went to the movies, went on short walks, that sort of thing. He even got to take communion with his wife. So there he was, and there his wife was, spending time together, being happy, and then he died mid-keystroke.
I have a question for you. Can a heart attack be a gift? Without that heart attack a week and a half ago, Mr. X would have died at work. He wouldn’t have been able to stop, take a break, and simply spend time with the people he loved. That heart attack, that near death experience, rocked Mr. X out of the pattern he spun his life into, reminded him of why he was doing all that work and saving all that money.
They say the Lord works in mysterious ways. That he uses all things for good. I used to gloss over that. After all, what in the world does that mean? Uses all things for good… like what? Like heart attacks? Probably. I’m not sure I want to speak for why God does what He does. I do know this: I do not now, nor will I ever, understand the way God chooses to run this world.
For those wishing to read something of that nature, pick up any book by Vonnegut. He’ll tell you, through various characters in various situations, that life is hard and that he never asked to be born anyway. But he’ll make you laugh as he depresses you, so that’s something.
And speaking of things that depress people, I had the unpleasant duty of cleaning out a dead coworker’s desk the other day. At the holy-crap-that’s-not-really-that-old-and-what-if-I-die-tomorrow age of 51, Mr. X croaked. One minute he was typing at his keyboard at home, the next he was slumped over very much not alive. He was dead before his head hit the keyboard. For those of you with short attention spans, please refer to the first sentence.
Mr. X was a hard worker. By that I mean that it was a rare week that he didn’t spend at least one day of the weekend at work. He also had numerous rental properties that required constant up keep. He was married, had two grown children, and a few grandchildren… and I hate using the past tense to describe those relationships. The last few years of his life (I can’t speak for the rest because I didn’t know him then) he didn’t have much time to spend at home. He had work to do and a future for his family to secure.
About a week and a half ago, Mr. X suffered a heart attack. He was rushed to the hospital where they installed a stint to keep his arteries open. Then they sent him home. He felt better, much better in fact. He spent time with his wife, went to the movies, went on short walks, that sort of thing. He even got to take communion with his wife. So there he was, and there his wife was, spending time together, being happy, and then he died mid-keystroke.
I have a question for you. Can a heart attack be a gift? Without that heart attack a week and a half ago, Mr. X would have died at work. He wouldn’t have been able to stop, take a break, and simply spend time with the people he loved. That heart attack, that near death experience, rocked Mr. X out of the pattern he spun his life into, reminded him of why he was doing all that work and saving all that money.
They say the Lord works in mysterious ways. That he uses all things for good. I used to gloss over that. After all, what in the world does that mean? Uses all things for good… like what? Like heart attacks? Probably. I’m not sure I want to speak for why God does what He does. I do know this: I do not now, nor will I ever, understand the way God chooses to run this world.
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I guess what I'm saying is that just because something is unpleasant doesn't mean there's not some purpose (good, value, what have you) that will come out of it. You can ask God why He does what he does (or allows what he allows), but you're likely to get the same answer he gave Job. Paraphrased for your reading pleasure: "I'm God, you're not."