Weekly Bible Study
Is He To Blame?
June 13, 2017
“God—His way is perfect; the word of the Lord is pure” Psalm 18:30
It was here at last; graduation night. Carla and Jeb were best friends and had competed for best grades since high school. They pushed each other relentlessly, demanding more and getting it in the end. Carla graduated with honors carrying a 3.9 GPA. Jeb also graduated with honors and a GPA of 3.85.
“I told you I was smarter,” she laughed as they hugged tightly.
“I held back on that last test because I am a gentleman,” he kidded, spinning her around in a wide circle.
“Humph,” she snorted, “If you were a gentleman, you wouldn’t lie like that.” They both doubled over in laughter.
“Hey, you two, let’s go, Heather is giving a party and you are the guests of honor. Get it? Honor!”
“Yeah we get it. Ok, lets have some fun tonight.”
“Can I drive your new Audi?” Jeb asked Carla.
“Sure you can but after tonight don’t ever ask again. I worked hard for this car and it’s all mine.” She pinched Jeb and winked, tossing him the keys.
The ringing phone brought Cynthia Johnson abruptly out of her sleep. Her heart leaped. She had the horrible foreboding feeling. Something is wrong. “Hello, is this Mrs. Cynthia Johnson?”
“Yes,” she shakily replied, the tears filling her eyes. “What is it. What’s wrong?”
“I am with the State Police and we are at your front door, ma’am, could you come talk with us?”
Cynthia leaped out of bed and slipped into her robe, taking the stairs two at a time. She opened the door. Two state troopers were standing there, a man and a woman. Both looked very serious.
“I am trooper Wilson,” said the woman. “And this is trooper Gentry. Can we come in and talk with you?”
In a moment they were sitting in the living room, the female trooper sitting next to Cynthia.
“Do you have a daughter named Carla?” She asked.
Now she knew. Something has happened. Now the tears began to flow.
“Does she drive a new gray Audi?”
“Oh no. What is it? What’s wrong. Is Carla ok?”
Trooper Wilson held Cynthia’s hands and said, “Mrs. Johnson, I’m afraid your daughter was killed in a car crash out on Hayward Drive, early this morning.”
The flood gates flew open as tears flowed relentlessly and Cynthia sobbed hysterically. “Oh no. Oh no. Oh God, it can’t be. There must be a mistake.” Trooper Wilson understood and pulled Cynthia into her shoulder, holding her firmly, letting her pour out her unspeakable grief. There is no real consolation for such times but a shoulder to cry on helps.
Two Months Later
Cynthia agreed to spend the weekend with her best friend, Claire at the beach. Claire’s family had a small cottage there. It was secluded which allowed for contemplation and prayer if the guests were so inclined. Cynthia was not so inclined. She was angry at God.
“Ok, Cynthia, let it all out. Rant and rave to your heart’s content and then we can talk.”
For the next twenty or so minutes, Cynthia did just that, she ranted and raved at God’s unfairness, the Universe’s horrible Karmic twist of fate and Jeb’s stupid, thoughtless, careless driving. She found a long list of people and things to blame for her daughter’s death. Finally, exhausted and wrung out, Cynthia could find nothing good to say about anyone involved, including the car manufacturer who she had sued for negligence. Her conclusion? Rather than joyful, life is horribly disappointing and no longer worth living.
Pouring more tea, Claire said, “What do you mean by not worth living, Cynthia?”
Looking through tear-filled, swollen eyes, Cynthia reach for her friend’s hand and said, “No, dear friend, I don’t mean I want to take my life. I simply mean I am so, so tired of trying to find peace in this horrible mess. And, if I’m honest, I want an answer from God, if he really exists. People tell me to look to God and I have most every day since this happened. However He has not answered me. How could He have allowed this tragedy? Carla was a good girl and so young. Truthfully I hate God.”
No one spoke now. All they could hear were the gulls occasionally squawking and the perpetual ocean waves breaking on shore. They sat silently for several minutes. Then Claire spoke.
“Cynthia, how can you blame God for this tragedy when you don’t even believe he exists? Even though you can’t face the truth yet, a part of you knows the car crash and horrible outcome are consequences of poor judgment on Jeb’s part, not really God’s fault.
“Considering how devastating the death of Jeb and Carla is, try to imagine how God must have felt when His Son, Jesus was beaten and then killed on the cross.”
Cynthia and Claire talked late into the night, alternating between English tea and rocky road ice cream as they bared their souls and cried profusely.
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