Not an Opium...

"This man lived a poor man's life and remained a pauper till his death!" I really felt bad as I was viewing this man inside the coffin, his full make up would not hide the sufferings he had gone through before he was locked in this box.
Onlookers, relatives and friends merely passed by him, simply speculating the cause of his death, his miserable life, his rift with some family members and other petty things about him. But I wondered, is there more to this man than all these petty talks?

During the few minutes I was watching his face, I felt some feeling of resistance. It was as if I was wrestling with God anew, asking Him why he had to allow this man to live and die a poor man? Has God missed His promise that He will not abandon His children? But has this man sought the Creator's intercession, in the first place? And if he ever did, was his heart and mind open enough to understand the answers to his prayers?

Since I reached my reasoning age, I have been wrestling with my Creator. This was not really an indication of my very little faith in Him, but sometimes, when I am faced with really difficult situations, I always ask Him "WHY".

The story of Job is the greatest paradigm of wrestling with God. His life gives a simple yet incisive teachings on suffering, undeserved suffering at that. At the start, he was afraid to question God for his agony but it was only after he lashed at God relentlessly, ruthlessly, painfully that Job learned to know God intimately. He left us a lesson that authentic faith grows not through unthinking submission but through the process of questioning and understanding.

During the darkest moments of my life, during those times when I was afraid and alone, I often felt like God was so far - far away, that I could not get hold of him, not even see his shadow. But I have learned that when I wrestle with God, He was closer to me than at any other times in my life.

As I matured, I realized that faith is not an opium to lull me to sleep, neither is it a way to break out from the realities of life. I recognized that most of the time, asking the question “why” was not about looking for meaning in a seemingly desperate situation. It was asking my Creator to do something for me, to take my cup of suffering away from me so I will not have to face them.

The reality of suffering invites us to wrestle with God, but in order to succeed, we must hope to lose. Only when we submit in humility can we finally see the light.