I am currently taking a course toward my Doctorate of Ministry, which requires a great deal of reading. One of the books I have recently read is called Dark Clouds, Deep Mercy, by Mark Vroegop. It is a book on lament, and in it, Vroegop notes that times of suffering can unearth idols in our lives.
Now didn't he touch a nerve.
Or five.
Suffering reveals idols. Like the idol of financial security. I can hardly afford gas anymore. Every time I fill up my tank, I am filled with rage at a government that insists on spending more and more money on green technology when other countries around the world pour filth into our air and water. Every time I see a car with a plate that starts with the letter G, I think snidely and smugly to myself how lovely it must be for that person to drive a car that I helped to pay for when never in a million years could I ever afford such a car for myself. I deserve financial security. I am owed cheap groceries in whatever quantity and variety I happen to wish for. I am not merely somewhat uncomfortable or inconvenienced; I am enraged. Because I am worshiping the idol of financial security. When so many all over the world are experiencing genuine deprivation, I am enraged that the price of citrus has gone up. When so many all over the world can't afford a car or the gas to put into it, I am enraged that I have to pay more to fill my tank.
God, forgive me.
Suffering reveals idols. Like the idol of treating people like saviours. Or maybe not people. Maybe vaccines and vaccine mandates. Or lockdowns. Or anything that will get us out of this wretched mess. If only everyone would get vaccinated, we could be out of this. We should force them all to get vaccinated. We should lock them up, the filthy germ-spreaders. We should let them die, gasping for breath, in the hospital parking lots. After all, they brought it on themselves. We assume the vaccine will save us, and we treat the unvaccinated with more and more contempt until we are treating them worse than we would treat our animals. Or if only the government would open things back up, and I chafe more and more at the lockdowns and restrictions. We call our leaders Hitlers and Nazis and have the temerity to liken our loss of freedoms to the horrors of the Holocaust as though we have forgotten the pictures of the living skeletons and the rooms full of eyeglasses and false teeth and children's shoes. If only someone, anyone would see the damage being done by the lockdowns, the job losses, the school closures. I cast my mind far and wide looking for a reason, a logical explanation, the one magic thing that will get us out of this, the one thing that will save us. Some trust Trudeau, Trump, the truckers. They will be the ones to save us. And I worship the idol of human leaders, human innovation, human wisdom, and I am enraged when, one by one, they fail.
God, forgive me.
Suffering reveals idols. Like the idol of craving cultural comfort. My world should just be nice. People should just get along. Everyone should just always let me in when I'm trying to merge on the highway. And I am enraged when I see society crumbling around me and life becoming more and more uncomfortable. Families are torn apart. Brother against sister. Son against mother. Society is fracturing and dividing along the edges of a chasm so deep and wide it seems impossible there will ever be bridges built. Shrieking at each other with fury in eye and voice. I want to join them. Every fibre of my being wants to join them. If I just scream loud enough and long enough, maybe someone will hear and I will be able to go back to living my comfortable life when the price of gas was reasonable and the shelves were full and I wasn't obliged to show papers to get into a restaurant and I didn't have to cover my face every time I am in public and people wouldn't give me the side-eye or automatically think me a radical alt-right fringe lunatic for following Jesus. My world is no longer comfortable, and I am enraged.
God, forgive me.
Suffering reveals idols. Like the idol of spiritual leaders. My church is right because we obey the pandemic restrictions. Your church is wrong because you ignore them. Your church is wrong because you have followed the pandemic restrictions. My church is right to ignore them. And we divide up behind our spiritual leaders and we shriek at each other across the abyss, an abyss full of the flames of hell and the stench of sulphur and satan laughs.
Oh, God, God forgive me.
Suffering reveals idols. Like the idol of presuming divine favour. I just assume that I deserve the blessings of God. I'm not lucky; I'm blessed. Of course I deserve financial security and a comfortable life and food on the shelves of the grocery store and a front-row parking spot to boot. I'm a nice person and I've always had those things, and I'm surrounded by a triumphal spirit that everything will always work out and God works everything for the good (aka comfort) of those who love him. Never mind the fact that around the world, people -- yes, believers -- are starving, caught up in military conflicts, being blown into oblivion by volcanoes, drowning in floods, burning in wildfires, dying for their faith. They're just unlucky, I guess. I presume divine favour. Oh, I don't say it out loud. I would never dare to say it out loud. But I live it. Because when I do not get all those earthly comforts, I am surprised. No, not just surprised. I am enraged.
Oh, God, forgive me.
Oh, God, forgive me.
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