Sometimes God Just Does Not Behave

Sometimes God just flat out does not behave like I think He should. 

It's so annoying at times.

There have been times in the past when life "just happened" - relationships ended, jobs took a turn, families came undone, school went awry, dumb decisions were made, loved ones died or suffered, pain was inflicted.  You've probably got your own list.  But they were all things that, if I'm honest, I probably got a little mad at God for and wondered why He was letting it all seemingly unravel when He could have stepped in and done something. 

My friends and I have been talking a lot about the story of Lazarus.  We've been talking a lot about small dreams and big dreams, small ideas of God and big ideas of God, and how they all get wrapped up in the life of Lazarus. 

His story picks up in John 11.  The man was a dear friend of Jesus, as were his sisters, Mary and Martha.  The short version of the story is that Lazarus gets sicks and dies.  I know, sorry to spoil your fun if you haven't read the story.  But when Jesus finds out that Lazarus is sick, he takes two days before he decides to go see the man, taking his sweet ol' time.  And in the course of that waiting, Lazarus dies.

When Jesus finally does show up, Martha's first words to him were, "If you had been here, my brother would not have died."

If you had been here, Jesus. 

If you had just done what I wanted.  If you had just done what I asked, done what you were supposed to do, we wouldn't be in this mess.

If you had just been here.

What she's really saying is, "You're not behaving like I think you should."

We walk around with such small views of God, don't we?  All Martha could see was that if Jesus had been there, He could have healed Lazarus and he wouldn't be wrapped up in a tomb.  He'd be alive.  I mean, Jesus had done it time and again, just reached out and healed people, just reached out and touched them.  Heck, sometimes He didn't even touch them, He just told them to get up and start walking.  And that's all Martha can imagine.  She's walking around with this limited view of Jesus and what He can do.  Because up until this point, people coming back from the dead just wasn't conceivable, it wasn't something she had ever experienced or witnessed previously.  She had no frame of reference when it came to people being resurrected.

And apparently her sister had the same vision problem because along comes Mary and says the exact same thing to Jesus, "If you had been here, my brother would not have died."

There you go, again, Jesus.  If you had just done what I thought you were supposed to do, if you had just behaved like I thought you would.

If you had been here, Jesus.

And you know what Jesus says to that?

I was there.  I was there all along.  I just didn't behave like you thought I should have.  I didn't behave like you thought I should have because I am about to do something that your mind can't even conceive.  I'm not only going to heal Lazarus, I'm going to bring him back from the dead. You need a bigger imagination, my sweet friend.

It's so like Jesus.  Sometimes I wonder if God sits on his throne and laughs at how little I think of Him, how little I think of his abilities and power.  I'm busy walking around praying for mere healing or comfort when He's busy plotting the resurrection of the dead.  I'm busy walking around praying for safety and protection when He's busy plotting the fiery pillar that's going to lead me straight to Him.  I'm busy walking around praying for a few bread crumbs and a cup of water when He's busy plotting manna that falls from the sky and water that turns sweet at the touch of a stick.

Aren't you so glad He doesn't behave? Aren't you so glad that He exceeds our wildest imaginations, doing things that we never could have conceived on our own?  Aren't you glad that he comes along and blows our worlds apart by misbehaving?  As much as it might terrify me, I don't want a God who does what I think He should do.  What a boring life that would be.  I want God to be God. 

"Does any-one have the foggiest idea what sort of power we so blithely invoke? Or, as I suspect, does no one believe a word of it? The churches are children playing on the floor with their chemistry sets, mixing up a batch of TNT to kill a Sunday morning. It is madness to wear ladies' straw hats and velvet hats to church; we should all be wearing crash helmets. Ushers should issue life preservers and signal flares; they should lash us to our pews. For the sleeping god may wake some day and take offense, or the waking god may draw us out to where we can never return." - Annie Dillard, Teaching a Stone to Talk