Turn on the news and you get a stream of murders, thefts, assaults, and kidnappings; house fires, landslides, storms, and floods; car accidents, injustice, corruption, and disease.
And good luck escaping through entertainment. Open almost any book or go to the movies, and you get the same load piled on, because this is what we know.
I can hardly stomach it anymore.
In my younger days I didn't think too much about the darkness that surrounded me just for being in this world. But now--especially as a parent of young children--I see what happens in the news and popular entertainment and can't help but hurt.
I see the victims of violence and other crimes and think of my own children, so innocent, so sweet and loving and bright and good--too good for the world they will inherit.
I want to protect them. I want to hold them close and tell them it will all be okay. I want to keep all the bad parts of the world away from them.
And because I've learned to see through the tender eyes of a concerned parent, and have practiced seeing through others' eyes studying the humanities in college, my heart breaks every time the bad parts of the world hurt someone else, too.
The victim of that mugging? He was just trying to get home from work, where he toiled all day to make sure his family had something to eat.
The victim of that carjacking? A single mother on her way to school.
The victim of trafficking? Only a child, torn from his family and everything he knows, obsessed with trucks and trains and Sesame Street, now crying and abused and far away from home because his sale could make some money.
The accidental victim of that drive-by shooting? She wasn't in a gang. She didn't know anyone in a gang. And she had plans she'd worked so hard for, friends who cared about her, talents and potential that would go with her into the ground because she walked down the wrong street.
Suicides. Hurricanes. Bullying. War.
Everyone in these stories is a human being, with a life and talents and experiences and relationships as rich and detailed as my own. Somebody loves them. Somebody depends on them.
And it's gotten so, so heavy.
Maybe I've gone soft, but even some of the scripture stories I grew up with trouble me these days. Recently I re-read the account of Alma and Amulek, a pair of ancient missionaries in the Book of Mormon, and their experience as they taught the word of God in a city called Ammonihah.
Few people listened to these missionaries. In fact, things were so bad in this city that the people took all those who believed and burned them to death--forcing Alma and Amulek to watch.
I've never liked that story, but it had never affected me too much. Now, though, I could hardly handle reading it. I related so strongly to Amulek, who, when he "saw the pains of the women and children who were consuming in the fire, he also was pained; and he said unto Alma: How can we witness this awful scene?" (Alma 14:10).
I ask again: why does God let bad things happen to good people?
The question is worth discussing. But even though I believe I have some of the answers, that's not the point I want to make today.
My point is this: Recently I've realized more and more that that question, as valid as it may be, is incomplete. It only considers this life, in this world.
Concerning the victims of the flames, Alma answers Amulek, "the Lord receiveth them up unto himself, in glory" (Alma 14:11).
Another Book of Mormon character, Ether--who saw some terrible things in his own time, including the complete extermination of his people--writes, "whoso believeth in God might with surety hope for a better world" (Ether 12:4).
We can ask why bad things happen all we want. And maybe we'd be right.
But I choose to believe in God, and to trust Him, because bad things happen.
In a world where every day we run the risk of meeting gun-wielding psychopaths at school, work, dinner, the movie theater, the library, the mall, and even at church, one thing keeps me from locking myself into my house and never coming out again:
The promise of a better world.
Someday, these terrible things won't happen anymore. There will be no more war, no more hate, no more theft, no more death, no more pain--no more of the darkness I feel constantly pressing in. Even minor inconveniences like traffic jams will be a thing of the past.
In the eternal picture, the heartaches and injustices of this world really only last one fleeting moment. And, according to my belief system, pretty much everybody will get to enjoy a better world than this one when we're done here.
We'll all make it there. Someday, we will all be happy, safe, and whole.
The hope that idea gives me is exactly what keeps me from living in constant fear. It's what inspires me to go help customers at work, to go out and make fun memories with my family, to see the good in the world and live joyfully and fully and contribute everything I can to make this world a better place as long as I'm here.
That hope is what I celebrate at Christmas.
Because of the baby born in Bethlehem, a light shines through the darkness. Because that little Jesus grew to take upon himself the pains and sins of everyone, we can all enjoy the hope He brought the world that starry night in the manger.
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| Image credit: Simon Dewey |
Every loss, every challenge, every hurt will be made up to us. From the smallest inconveniences to the deepest sorrows and most harrowing nightmares, everything will be made right.
In the meantime, when the world feels like it's caving in around me, I choose to hold on to that promise.
I choose to let God lead me through the dark.
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