Read Time: 5 minutes

by AJ Canterbury

As the majority of the United States prepared for barbecues and fireworks on Independence Day, the Texas Hill Country awoke to catastrophe. Overnight, the rain started to fall, and the river rose 25 feet in 45 minutes. The flood waters decimated homes and property and swept people away.

Sacrificial heroes always emerge amid weather emergencies, and this calamity was no exception. National Guards and individual search and rescue teams showed their bravery by charging into chaos to protect others. They saved many, but they could not get to everyone.

Among the storm’s casualties were the counselors and campers of an all-girls Christian Camp along the river. The parents had packed up and dropped of their young daughters to spend the week laughing with friends and learning about Jesus. They could not fathom the unexpected grief that awaited them.

I was not personally attached to any of the victims, but with the camp and city being in my backyard, the loss felt personal. The tragedy was too close to home not to envision myself and loved ones in that danger. I watched videos of the property damage of places I recognized and of the river that had broken its boundary and submerged the town.

A specific video of a father sifting through the debris, searching for his lost daughter, twisted my stomach. I felt his desperation, his hope, his exhaustion. His haggard eyes mirrored the hundreds of parents who lost their children to the flood.

In times of crises, I can’t help but look for some glimmer of purpose, a sign that God is kind and wise instead of random and cruel. I just long for God to make it all make sense.

When doubts cloud my view

From my position, the flooding seems a meaningless tragedy, absent of justice or wisdom. I would guess it feels even more so for the grieving in Kerr County. 

Over the weekend, I read a handful of psalms, offering quick proclamations from David about God’s favor for his people. They boasted of God’s constant protection from their enemies, and how he is always on their side, offering them escape. I wondered if those in the hill country could claim the promises of those psalms.

Surely, God had people there. Why didn’t he protect them? Did he have a lapse in his wisdom? In these times of crises, I can’t help but look for some glimmer of purpose, a sign that God is kind and wise instead of random and cruel. I just long for God to make it all make sense.

I am grounded in my belief that God is both a shield and stronghold, and that the righteous are safe in his hand. I believe that God always [and I mean always) acts in wisdom. He does not change but rather stays true to his character.

So, what happens when current events seem to run contrary to the goodness of God’s character? How can God be trusted when he does what I cannot understand?

My desire to trust God enters a battle with doubt when harrowing circumstances arise, the events that I just cannot sort out. Against such moments, the conquering of those doubts are not easily won. I am reminded of the father in the gospels who sought Jesus to heal his son of his demonic possession. He also seemed caught between faith and doubt. 

Jesus had gone up the mountain with his inner circle, so the father looked to the remaining disciples to help him. But the disciples ran into trouble healing the boy, so the father rejoiced when Jesus returned to camp. As the two huddle to discuss the problem, the fathers shares that the demon seeks to destroy the boy by throwing him in fire or attempting to drown him. The father despairs in desperation to save his boy.

He says to Jesus, “If you can do anything, have compassion on us and help us.“

Jesus replies, “If I can! All things are possible for the one who believes.“

With complete transparency, the father says, “I believe; help my unbelief!“

(full story can be found in Mark 9:14-29”).

The father vacillated between faith and doubt. He had searched out Jesus, knowing if anyone could help, it would be this migrant healer. Yet the inability of the disciples to help confirmed that his situation could never be right.

When I think of the cross, I meet who my God has revealed himself to be, and it strengthens and reassures my soul.

When I survey the wondrous cross

The father’s confession/plea resonates with me. I’ve found myself in the same quagmire far too often: believing yet prone to questioning. I am certain of his endless wisdom, goodness, and mercy, yet I’m distracted by the persistent scratches of doubt at the door. I need his intervention to remain faith-filled and to see clearly.

What I have discovered to be at the heart of the conflict is the matter of God’s character: can I be confidant that he is who I think he is. God offers me his gentle help by turning my eyes toward his revealed character in scripture. He always draws my eyes to a singular biblical event:

The crucifixion of Jesus.

At the cross, God puts his character on full display. The attributes that compose who he is can be found there. When I think of the cross, I meet who my God has revealed himself to be, and it strengthens and reassures my soul.

He is a God of love. His creation had rebelled against him, and the consequence for this defiance was death and eternal separation from God. Love motivated God to redeem his people. “But God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Rom 5:8). God’s character of love is written all over the cross.

He is a God of justice. The price of our rebellion and sin had to be dealt with, not just overlooked. Jesus took our place, bore God’s wrath, and made the atonement through his blood. “In this is love, not that we have loved God but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins” (1 Jn 4:10). His character always does what is right, and he is self-sacrificial to meet that justice. “He himself bore our sins in his body on the tree, that we might die to sin and live to righteousness. By his wounds you have been healed” (1 Pet 2:24).

He is a God of mercy. God did not shrink away from willingly showing his compassion for the wretched sinners he wanted to redeem.  He did not owe his creation redemption, and none of them merited his grace. “And you were dead in the trespasses and sins but God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ—by grace you have been saved—” (Eph 2:1, 4-5). What the cross accomplished cost God much, but he did it because the richness of his mercy reside at his core.

He’s a god of wisdom. God’s plan to rescue his people through the death of his son was not something he conjured up as things went sideways with his creation. It was a plan he fashioned and intentioned long before creation began. “Even as he chose us in him before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and blameless before him. In love he predestined us for adoption to himself as sons through Jesus Christ, according to the purpose of his will” (Eph 1:4-5). God does not respond to things with wisdom; his wisdom precedes the activity.

When I remember the cross, I see that God’s attributes work harmoniously when he saved me. God did not favor one or two of them, while neglecting the others. He operates with them all at once, and they are not in conflict.

God’s character does not wax and wane. It does not change. They are his attributes that make up who he is, and he does not act without their permanence. That is good news for all of us, for no matter the tragedy, flood, loss, or failing body, God’s character remains trustworthy.

I have found that if I wait for reassurance until I understand why God moved or permitted what he did, I never find peace. It is a fruitless exercise. But, if I focus on the character of God, who he is, then I can face tragedy with faith. Because all his attributes of God always work together, just as they did at the cross, I can be certain they are present at the moments I cannot decipher. 

I pray that the people of the hill country hold tight to the character of God as they rebuild their homes and process their grief. I pray you find solace in reflecting on the cross. I pray that I remain steadfast in what I know to be true.

I have found that if I wait for reassurance until I understand why God moved or permitted what he did, I never find peace. But, if I focus on the character of God, who he is, then I can face tragedy with faith.

There are many beautiful scriptures expressing God’s nature through the cross. I encourage you to meditate on some. Tell me: what passage resonates the most with you and what do you find the most comforting/startling about how God acts at the cross?

I have written a previous post on trusting God when he permits the unexpected in my Habakkuk series. You can check out the article, “When the God of the Unexpected Wrecks Your Life” for further reflection.

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