I have been asked about my faith lately… asking — essentially — if my faith has been rocked due to my brother’s passing. I want to have a more full answer to this, and I will eventually. I appreciate the questions.
It is true that I never imagined this scenario. I know that sounds crazy because my brother lived full out. I know motorcycles are crazy dangerous. Driving a motorcycle with one eye, at high speeds, etc. I get it. Still, he always survived. He ALWAYS walked away. So, I never imagined being without him. With all of my being, I expected him to grow old. Not SUPER old, but old.
Obviously my expectations weren’t met.
Obviously, I am grieving.
Obviously, I wish things were different.
Obviously, I am gutted.
But, no. My faith has not been rocked.
My faith has BEEN my rock.
Faith in my brother’s complete joy and peace, as being absent from the body is being present with the Lord. Faith in knowing I will see him again. My own peace is anchored in the fact that my brother is no longer struggling in the ways that he struggled. He is whole.
But my faith in God is not anchored in God meeting my expectations. It is not about “as long as this doesn’t happen and these things do happen, I can trust Him.” My faith is not anchored in CIRCUMSTANCE.
My faith is ANCHORED in who God IS.
So, my faith isn’t trusting that bad things won’t happen.
My faith is about the fact that God is trustworthy, that He will carry me through WHATEVER happens… AND use it “for the good…”
Many, many times… my parents and I have lamented that “if we could take Scotty’s pain from him, we would.” On May 28th, that exchange took place. He has no pain or agony or angsty or torment or confusion or hurt. Instead, we do.
And so I’ll keep walking this out.
My faith is made stronger,
as I am made stronger.
God is good, all the time.
God was good to my brother.
And He is good to us.
I love the song, “Praise You in this Storm” by Casting Crowns. We are no doubt in a storm. Even as I write this… it’s still raining. But God is still God, and He is still good.
