E-Book, Englisch, 240 Seiten
Storms The Steadfast Love of the Lord
1. Auflage 2025
ISBN: 978-1-4335-9389-5
Verlag: Crossway
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 0 - No protection
Experiencing the Life-Changing Power of God's Unchanging Affection
E-Book, Englisch, 240 Seiten
ISBN: 978-1-4335-9389-5
Verlag: Crossway
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 0 - No protection
Sam Storms (PhD, University of Texas at Dallas) is the founder and president of Enjoying God Ministries and serves on the council of the Gospel Coalition. Sam served as visiting associate professor of theology at Wheaton College and is a past president of the Evangelical Theological Society. He is the author or editor of 37 books and blogs regularly at SamStorms.org. Sam and his wife, Ann, are the parents of two daughters and grandparents of four.
Autoren/Hrsg.
Weitere Infos & Material
Introduction
I have a confession to make, and it needs to happen before you read another word of this book. Rarely in my Christian life have I struggled with doubt. My faith has almost always been rock-solid and robust. Sure, there were times when I was confused by things I read in Scripture, times when I shook my head in measured disbelief. But I don’t believe I ever seriously wavered in my confidence that God is both good and loving.
Then a 7.8 earthquake struck southeastern Turkey in the spring of 2023. You may remember that day, as word began to spread of several thousand who had died in the rubble of countless buildings and homes that crumbled like they were made of toothpicks. At first, the report was that 6,000 had perished. Later that same day, the number grew to 15,000. The next day, we were told that it was over 30,000 and would probably increase as the rescue efforts escalated. The last time I checked the death toll had risen to over 59,000.
Joseph Stalin, Russian dictator who succeeded Vladimir Lenin in the aftermath of the October Revolution, is reported to have said, “One death is a tragedy, a million deaths a statistic.”1 How coldly brutal and uncaring that is. But I understand the sentiment. As the number of those who died in Turkey and Syria continued to climb each day, I began to lose sight that each number represented a human being, several thousand of whom were under the age of five. We weep over one death, but a fog of indifference clouds our souls when the number is so great that the people who died become little more than an unidentifiable mass.
The news broke that one woman gave birth beneath the pile of heavy slabs of concrete under which she was buried. Her newborn infant survived, but she did not. That was hard enough for me to swallow. Then I watched on the news as another grieving mother rocked her lifeless two-month-old baby boy in her arms. I couldn’t hold back the tears and, well, the anger too. “God, where are you? Where were you when this happened? I know your power is without limit and that you could have as easily put a stop to the earthquake with as little effort as Jesus exerted when he silenced the wind and waves on the Sea of Galilee. So why did you let this happen?”
I knew I was drawing close to crossing a line in my complaint to the Lord. Oh, how very close I came to accusing him of sin, of failing to act consistently with what he says about himself in Scripture, of not caring about the depths of pain and anguish so many people had experienced.
It was then that I began to struggle with the reality of God’s love. Honestly, I’m still struggling. You may think it odd that I would write a book extolling the steadfast love of God at the same time I’m wrestling with doubts about it in my heart. But I’m not being duplicitous. I have no desire to be a hypocrite. I simply realized that the only way I was going to press through this dark season in my soul was to bathe it in the repeated theme of Scripture that “the steadfast love of the Lord never ceases” (Lam. 3:22).
I wish I could say that my heart is now at perfect peace when contemplating the truth of God’s steadfast love, but alas, it is not. However, I am sufficiently calm and convinced that what the Bible says about God is true and so I can proceed with writing this short book. In fact, the more I thought and prayed about it, the more I came to the same conclusion of the disciples in John 6 when the difficult words of Jesus had driven away so many of his professed followers. “Do you want to go away as well?” Jesus asked them (John 6:67). Peter spoke for all of them (and for me too) when he replied, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life” (John 6:68).
Where else can I turn if not to the truth of the steadfast, never-ending, always-faithful love of God? Even if I can’t account for earthquakes in Turkey or tornadoes in my home state of Oklahoma or widespread famine in Sudan, what options do I have? What options do you have? If God’s love isn’t real and steady and ultimately steadfast, what hope do any of us have? To what philosophy of life will we turn? To the words of what sage will we listen?
As I began writing this book, I received an email from a man in my church here in Oklahoma City. He had a question for me, one that I struggled to answer:
Sam,
I have a good friend whose oldest son committed suicide a few days ago. I was wondering if you could share a few high-level insights/wisdom from your experience with walking with someone going through this. So far, the little I’ve been able to talk with my friend I’ve just said I’m sorry and asked what I can do. Some things I’ve thought about are:
What kind of answer would you give to a question of why God would allow something like this?
How is God good if this happens?
How does this become redeemed for good?
How is this God’s love for me, my family, and my dead son?
Etc . . .
Again, he hasn’t asked any of these questions, but, when appropriate, I want to point him to the scripture and Jesus. My primary answer in my mind is, “I don’t know, and I’m sorry this happened.” Any thoughts you’d have I’d welcome.2
How would you have answered an email like this? I certainly didn’t want to respond with a series of spiritual platitudes that sound insightful but ultimately accomplish little. I don’t know if this helped, but this is what I wrote back to him:
The last thing that someone who’s experienced this sort of tragedy wants to hear is a theological explanation of why it happened. Even if you could give him one, it wouldn’t diminish the pain or sense of loss he feels. Situations like this remind me of Job. He lost all his children and possessions and his “friends” labored to give him an explanation why it happened. This only aggravated his condition. When these things happen, the best thing to do is to keep your mouth shut and sit and weep with your friend. You are right when you say “I don’t know” is the best response. We don’t know why these things happen and God doesn’t tell us. What he tells us is that he is good and will never leave or forsake us. That may not help much, but anything else or more will only sound flippant and uncaring to him.
I’m not suggesting we are always in the wrong for trying to decipher God’s ways and to make sense of what strikes us as senseless. But in some instances, such as this man’s loss of his son, I am more inclined to put my hand over my mouth and simply reflect on Paul’s words in Romans 11:33–36:
Oh, the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgments and how inscrutable his ways! For who has known the mind of the Lord, or who has been his counselor? Or who has given a gift to him that he might be repaid? For from him and through him and to him are all things. To him be glory forever. Amen.
I know that sounds like a cop-out. In fact, it almost comes across as one of those spiritual platitudes that I earlier said I would never espouse. But let’s be honest. What other options are there? To theologize this man’s loss of his son to suicide, as if any of us is capable of accounting for why God performs or permits such tragedies to occur, sounds trivial to the hurting heart. Indescribably painful too. I could envision this father saying in response, “My son’s life is worth more than a doctrinal declaration. How can you so casually write off his tragic and premature death with your supposed insight into the mysteries of the universe?”
So where does that leave us? If it’s OK with you, I’m going to stick with the apostle Paul. Do you really believe there are other viable options? I don’t. I’m left clinging in my feeble, oh-so-very-tenuous faith to the unsearchable judgments and inscrutable ways of God. I simply don’t know where or to whom I can turn, other than to say that “all things”—yes, even the incomprehensibly devastating death of one’s child—are “from” God and exist “through” God and ultimately will be seen as bringing glory and honor “to” God.
After more than a half century in Christian ministry, after hearing and personally witnessing countless instances of this sort of disastrous news, I remain a believer in the steadfast love of God. That doesn’t mean I can easily explain why this man’s son took his own life or why God allowed the earthquake in Turkey, the slaughter of millions by Stalin, the deaths incurred during COVID-19, or the sexual abuse of precious young children all around our country. I can’t. And neither can you. But if God’s love is no more than a pipe dream, a cloud without rain, a promise with no hope of fulfillment, then we are of all people most to be pitied (1 Cor. 15:19).
But don’t misunderstand me. I’m not saying that the only or even primary reason I remain confident of the truth of God’s love is that I have no other options, far less because it provides me with the psychological boost I need to get out of bed each day. I believe it and am happy to write about it for at least three reasons.
First, I believe it because the Holy Spirit has strengthened my inner being with divine power to “comprehend with all...
