The Problem with Problems

The problem with problems is that sometimes we can miss the larger picture. 

I remember once as a child complaining to my mom about a problem I was having with one of my younger brothers.  As I recall I was doing my best to help my poor mother understand how grievously my siblings’ annoyances had been for me that day, and how (despite my long-suffering efforts) I was understandably reaching the end of my patience with them. 

I was upset with whatever that particular problem was, and I wanted her to fix it.  Despite all my compelling  efforts, she seemed unimpressed. 

Finally she explained: “One reason God gives us siblings”, I recall her saying, “is so that we can learn how to be married someday.”

Of course, in my 7-year-old wisdom I could see that she had missed my point entirely.  Now, after my own decades of my own marriage and family, I’m beginning to realize what she may have been alluding to.  She hadn’t missed the point.  She had nailed it. 

Even the best of marriages aren’t always fair.  That’s part of what “for better or for worse” means.  That’s what makes a marriage different from a dating relationship—you pledge to something that won’t always be what it should be, at least not in the moment. .  And the point of that, in God’s eyes, is that it gives us our own daily chance to mimic something He calls faithfulness.  “I have loved you with an everlasting love”, as He tells us through the prophet Jeremiah during a very tough time in His relationship with His people.  Elsewhere Jeremiah marvels, “Great is Your faithfulness”. 

Now I understand that some marriages become terminally unfair, and therefore need to end.  I’ve seen marriages close to me reach that point. But even then, there is a long tunnel of chaos through which both partners must go, or run the risk of repeating those patterns again in the future. 

I write these words as I watch our denomination--as well as my country, the United States--straining at the seams with conflicts that seem to be pulling us apart.  On both levels I hear passionate arguments from either side of any issue, all clamoring about how their point of view needs to be taken more seriously, and how the other side is certainly going to bring us to the edge of ruin.  On every side I hear passionate arguments voiced with all the compelling fervor with which I approached my mom so many years ago.  “You’ve got to fix this!” 

Much of the rhetoric I hear in our nation political turmoil sounds like me as grade-schooler:  “I’m frustrated, and we’ve got to set this straight!”  I hear that tone in voices clamoring for a rapid break-eggs-and-make-omelets kinds of change in our federal governing efforts.  I hear voices saying that about immigration, about defense spending, about who we should include in our school programs or health care systems and countless other issues.  But I also hear that tone in people who want to protest against them with a matching level of vigor.  We’re not wrong, they are!!

While this may perhaps be expected in secular politics, it saddens me to hear the same sentiments ricocheting through our denominational conflicts as well.  When it comes to struggling to identify just what God is telling us in scripture about the difficult challenges facing us today, our voices sound like anything but grace and truth:  “No, we’re not wrong—YOU’RE wrong!”

I don’t in any way mean to downplay the larger biblical significance of the issues that are dividing us as a denomination.  When it comes to difficult ethical dilemmas, the question can never be “does God’s will matter?”.  However when brothers and sisters who both care deeply about finding God’s best prayerfully come to different understandings of what that seems to be, that should present a dilemma that draws us together, not an offense that should turn us away. 

Differing for a long time is not the same as differing well.  I fear that that the amount of time spent in our struggles dwarfs the amount of humility generated by those efforts.  And as a result, we’ve grown apart, not together.  Our perspectives might not be beyond reconciliation.  But I fear we are. 

My high school girlfriend and I have been married now for over 41 years.  Over those decades we’ve had a lot of problems: some we’ve been able to change, others we’ve had to allow to change us. 

It’s been hard at times. But it’s been wonderful.  I’m so thankful for her, and for our history, including the things we’ve had to prayerfully work through together.  That kind of history is far more difficult, and far more rich than high-school me could ever have imagined.  I wouldn’t trade it for anything. 

The problem with problems is that sometimes we can miss the larger picture. 

I fear that as a society—and as God’s people—we are having a problem with problems.  In our rush to simple answers, we are losing our taste for the simple truth of the gospel: the fact that our Savior has an uncanny knack for bringing us to the end of ourselves before we can discover the beginning of Him. 

I don’t think we’re there yet.