When God doesn’t seem to keep his promises

Rabanus Maurus was a ninth-century archbishop and scholar. His work so contributed to the development of German literature and language that he was known as Praeceptor Germaniae (“the teacher of Germany”).

I happened to read one of his hymns this morning, and it prompted this article. In it, Maurus prays:

Anoint and cheer our soiled face with the abundance of thy grace. Keep far our foes, give peace at home: where thou art guide, no ill can come (my italics). But this is clearly not true.

“The Lᴏʀᴅ is my shepherd; I shall not want”

At this writing, at least 109 are confirmed dead from the July 4 floods in Central Texas; more than 180 are still missing. For those of us who profess faith in an all-loving, all-knowing, all-powerful God, it is hard to imagine how this could be worse from a theological perspective:

• Many of those who perished were children. And yet Jesus loved children and said of them, “To such belongs the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 19:14).
• Others were counselors devoted to children. My friend Dick Eastland gave his life trying to save some of them. They were doing what God calls us all to do: “through love serve one another” (Galatians 5:13).
• Parents entrusted their children to a camp that was ninety-nine years old with a wonderful reputation for helping them grow in their faith. They were doing what Scripture teaches us to do: “Train up a child in the way he should go” (Proverbs 22:6).
• The disaster was not manmade like a mass shooting, so there is no one to blame for misusing their free will.
• The Bible says that God allows us the consequences of our misused freedom (cf. Joshua 24:15), but he is under no such constraint with nature. To the contrary, “he upholds the universe by the word of his power” (Hebrews 1:3) and demonstrates his providence over nature from creation to Revelation.

In addition, his word seems to promise his protection to those who are in his will. For example, Proverbs 18:10 says, “The name of the Lᴏʀᴅ is a strong tower; the righteous man runs into it and is safe.” Who could be more “righteous” than children at a Christian camp and their counselors?

We could go on:

• “The Lᴏʀᴅ is my shepherd; I shall not want” (Psalm 23:1).
• “Because you have made the Lᴏʀᴅ your dwelling place—the Most High, who is my refuge—no evil shall be allowed to befall you, no plague come near your tent” (Psalm 91:9–10).
• “The Lᴏʀᴅ will keep you from all evil; he will keep your life” (Psalm 121:7).
• “No weapon that is fashioned against you shall succeed. . . This is the heritage of the servants of the Lᴏʀᴅ” (Isaiah 54:17).
• “My God shall supply every need of yours according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 4:19).

So, what do we do when God doesn’t seem to keep his promises?

Confronting the problem

If God were Zeus or another of the capricious anthropomorphic deities of Greek mythology, we wouldn’t have this problem. We wouldn’t be surprised if he promised protection and then changed his mind as it suited him.

But the Bible says that God is “holy, holy, holy” (Isaiah 6:3), “a God of faithfulness and without iniquity” (Deuteronomy 32:4). It says that “he knows everything” (1 John 3:20) and that he “is” love (1 John 4:8).

As CS Lewis noted, some will question such beliefs about God’s character, wondering if “this is what God’s really like.” Others will sidestep the question, assigning it to the category of “mysteries we cannot solve” and trying to move forward as if it did not exist.

But it does.

Every time God disappoints us, it comes back. Every time he doesn’t answer our prayers as we wish or act as we want him to, this doubt reappears in the recesses of our souls. When we think we are living by his word and yet face suffering that is not our fault, we are forced to ask, even if subliminally, if God really keeps his promises.

We may fear that such questions indicate a lack of faith, but they’re actually the opposite. If we didn’t have faith in an all-knowing, all-loving, all-powerful Father, we wouldn’t ask them. If we didn’t believe that he wants us to understand our faith as best we can, we wouldn’t consider them relevant or appropriate.

But God’s word consistently calls us to love God with all our “mind” (Matthew 22:37).

• Our Father says to us, “Come now, let us reason together, says the Lᴏʀᴅ” (Isaiah 1:18). “Reason together” is better translated from the Hebrew, “argue it out.”
• David was a man after God’s own heart (1 Samuel 13:14; Acts 13:22), but he prayed, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Psalm 22:1).
• Jesus was the sinless Son of God, but he cried these same words from the cross (Matthew 27:46).

If they could ask the hardest questions of God, so can we.

So should we.

Four biblical responses

I have written numerous books and many articles on the problem of innocent suffering. Rather than restate all of that here, I’ll focus on one facet of this issue, the part that deals specifically with biblical promises. Let’s consider these facts:

One: The Bible promises both God’s protection and the certainty of suffering.

We have seen some of the places where Scripture promises our Father’s providential protection for his people. However, Jesus also stated, “In the world you will have tribulation” (John 16:33). Paul added, “All who desire to live a godly life in Christ Jesus will be persecuted” (2 Timothy 3:12). As St. Augustine noted, God had one Son without sin but none without suffering.

Two: Biblical promises must be understood in their context.

Jesus taught, “If you abide in my word, you are truly my disciples, and you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free” (John 8:31–32). James 4:7 also says, “Submit yourselves therefore to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you.” With both promises, we must meet the condition stated first to experience the benefit promised as a result.

Three: God’s ways of keeping his promises may not be our ways.

Jesus said, “Everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die” (John 11:26), and yet billions of Christians across Christian history have died. But Jesus meant that we “shall never die” spiritually and eternally. When we take our last breath in this life, we take our first breath in the next.

Because “God is love” (1 John 4:8), he will always do what is best. He redeems all he allows, though we may not understand such redemption on this side of paradise. As a result, we can know that nothing that happens in our broken world changes his love for us.

A dear friend ministering to young couples who are grieving over this tragedy sent me this:

He either is who he says he is, or he is not. If he is who he says he is, then he is King and Lamb and has overcome all suffering for us. He is sufficient in my weakness and lack of understanding.

He is, indeed.

Four: However we experience God’s promises, we can claim the promise of his presence.

A passage that brings together our conversation is in Isaiah 43:

Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through the fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you. For I am the Lᴏʀᴅ your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior” (vv. 1–3).

Here we find the promise that we are “redeemed” and that suffering shall not “overwhelm” us. But note that the Lord says “when you pass through the waters,” showing that such suffering is inevitable. And note that he “will be with you” in your pain, no matter how painful it becomes.

Jesus promised that Christians are in his “hand” (John 10:28). If I am protecting an object in my hand, nothing can come to it without coming first through me. This means that Jesus feels every pain we feel and grieves as we grieve. Just as he wept at the grave of Lazarus (John 11:35), so he has “compassion” for us all (cf. Mark 6:34).

When we “weep with those who weep” (Romans 12:15), we weep with Jesus himself.