Steven and I have been following the news in Haiti, like most everyone. What poverty, what darkness, what evil, what destruction the people of Haiti have encountered. A few nights ago, Steven was reading the news while I was shuffling around the kitchen. “Megan, one of your favorite people commented on the events in Haiti!” He was referring to Pat Robertson, knowing full well he’s not one of my favorite people. His statement was fairly typical–claiming the disaster was as a punishment for Haiti’s sins.
Maybe so, maybe not. Pat Robertson, who are you?
Before everything happened with Sam, my reaction to events like those in Haiti was a distant but heartfelt compassion. I felt grateful to live in a wealthy country, to have a roof over my head, to have food in my belly. But this time, I identified so closely with the destruction, though our circumstances differ and I still have a roof over my head and food in my belly. I identify because these circumstances evidence the brokenness of the world, a battle between good and evil that lately seems like a losing one.
My problem with comments like Robertson’s is the eagerness of broken people to handle justice, as though Robertson or any other human being is less broken than a Haitian. We have a deformed view of where we stand with God. Certainly, God calls for confrontation of sin to bring justice. I think of Jonah sent to foretell the destruction of the nation of Ninevah, to give them a chance to repent. I also think of when Nathan confronted David about his adultery(2 Samuel 12). First, God specifically sent Nathan to David. Nathan’s attitude was cautious yet direct, I think, using a parable to first bring David’s sense of morality to the surface, then helping David insert himself into that morality. Conviction was swift. These confrontations of sin are so vastly different from an indirect and condemning statement made on the 700 Club about a country in the depths of her sorrow.
I think of my own troubles and how much safer I might feel if I had a box in which to store them. If I could just figure out what I did wrong, this kind of sorrow would never visit me again. I wrestle for a moment, but then I have to cling to God’s directness in conviction and my lack of control. As much as I (like every other human) grasp for control, I am so grateful I have no control, that Sam was conceived and developed under the close supervision of his and my Maker. My control might have saved me from this dark chapter, but I also would have forfeited the blessing of carrying baby Sam. Control gains us life in the shallow end, bills paid, schedule kept, house clean, marriage tolerable, enemies appeased. A leap wins me the ocean. And Sam.
As you pray for us, lift up Sam, Steven, and my spiritual well-being as well as our physical well-being. Steven and I battle darkness on a daily basis, and we pray for a hedge around Sam. Even now, before he is born, he is a spiritual being. We marvel at his sensitivity. Recently, Steven and I were watching Lord of the Rings, and this clip brought me to tears, as it illustrates so vividly how we feel these days. I wanted to share–pray that our enemies will be swallowed up.