Where Is God When I Am Hurting?


                         By Phil Scovell



     I was probably about 8 or 9 years old when it happened.  When
I got bored and couldn't find anything to do, I would always go
and ask mom.  Her answer was always the same, "Spit in your shoe."
Very creative.  When I got old enough to have a come back such as,
"What else can I do besides that, mom?"  Her answer was always the
same, "Ask me again and I'll tell you the same."  No help there, I
reasoned.  When I got bored, however, I always did the one thing I
really loved and that was riding my bike.

     I would ride around my block because two sides of the square
were busy streets with lots of traffic and two corners had gas
stations.  I would pump for all I was worth and roll as fast as I
could go.  One side was slightly down hill, too, and I could get
my bike up to over 30 miles an hour.  I had to be careful around
the two gas stations because cars were, of course, always coming
and going but I kept a sharp eye out as I made the rounds.

     One day, I decided to reverse my run and ride counter
clockwise.  I have no idea why I made this decision but it was
just something different to do.

     At one corner was a used car lot.  It was small and the
owners lived on my street above the car lot on a pretty high hill.
His office building for the car lot was literally built right up
to the sidewalk which ran in front of the business.  thus, when
making the turn to the right around his building to empty out on
my street, you could see nothing in advance.  You just had to pray
nobody was there.  One day, my prayers were not answered.

     As I made the turn, there was a car, big as life, directly in
front of me.  He was on the wrong side of the road.  He wasn't
supposed to be there.  Why was he there in the first place?  I
stomped down on my breaks with all the strength I could muster
but slammed directly into the car bumper and fell off my bike into
the street.  The man jumped out and helped me.  He thought he had
killed me I'm sure.  I was scared, not because of what had just
occurred but what could have occurred.  I kept insisting I was all
right as the man helped me pick my bike up.  Fortunately, I had
slowed just enough that my bike sustained no damage.  The man
inquired as to my safety one more time and I insisted I was fine
and everything was ok.  He let me go.

     As I peddled home, I realized how easily I could have been
hurt, or even killed, by doing what I had just done.  From then
on, I never rounded that corner without nearly stopping to a crawl
in order to peak around to see if anybody was in the way.  To this
day, I cannot figure out why that man's car was on the wrong side
of the road.

     Have you ever found yourself on the right side of the wrong
side of something?  As far as you know, things are going along
normally.  Nothing is different.  You've made few changes that
should effect anything in your life.  Suddenly, wham.  You are on
the ground eating dirt.  Where was God?  Why did He let it happen?
You are scared and all sorts of horrible thoughts detonate deep
within your imagination and you think all types of wild hideous
frightening thoughts.  Maybe you just found out you have cancer.
Perhaps you just lost your best friend.  Maybe a parent died after
suffering far too long.  Perhaps one of your children, or
grandchildren, are hurt and need emergency surgery.  Perhaps your
mate announces they want a divorce.  Maybe you found out your 17
year old daughter has had an abortion or your 16 year old son is
HIV positive.  Maybe your Christian wife of 12 years, who has been
working in the church with you as the youth pastor, announces she
is lesbian and leaves you.  I had a man one day sitting in my
office who told me he had been diagnosed as schizophrenic.  A
pastor friend called me one day and asked if I knew any Christian
counselors.  I asked why.  My friend said, a good pastor friend of
his lived in California.  The man was married, had four children,
and had been pastoring all his adult life.  He was in his mid
fifties.  He had announced to his wife he was leaving her and the
church because he was a latent homosexual.  What if one day, as a
friend of mine did, you and your friends go out to the lake where
you always swim.  Diving in, the water is too shallow and you
strike your head.  When they drag you out just before you drown,
you learn you are paralyzed from the neck down for the rest of
your life.  Maybe you learn your fourteen year young daughter is
pregnant.  What if you are a little boy or girl coming home from
school only to be told your father died that day.  Where is God at
all these times?

     The answer is too simple for human minds to remotely
comprehend.  God is where He has always been and that is with you.
Sometimes you even get to see him.  My mom did when my father
died.  Jesus stood on the other side of the bed and when my mom
looked up, she saw Him.  She said she could have reached across
the bed and touched; Him because He was that real.  Mom said,
"You've come to take him?"  Jesus said, "Yes.  I have come for
him."  Mom let dad go.  I believe that is the key, that is,
letting go.  Sometimes that isn't possible without help from some
friend who loves you and that I understand very well.  Some of
these things I have mentioned I have experienced myself.  I have
finally learned, through the pain and the fears and the tears,
that Jesus is always with us and at the end of life, we will find
Him there as well.