Read my introduction to Sarah from yesterday.

Sarah may or may not interact with the comments. It might be a little much for her. But I think she will read them.

During Thomas’s illness, we have been cared for by a lot of people of faith. Of course they are burdened with sadness for us and for Thomas. There is a secondary grief, however, that seems to flicker behind our saddest conversations. Questions like, “Why weren’t our prayers answered?” or “Why won’t God make Thomas better?” are unsaid but present.

Those are good questions, ones that theologians have been arguing over for hundreds of years. I don’t have any good answers, but I’ve had a lot of bad ones suggested to me since Thomas became ill. There are a couple theories that I pretty sure are bull-oney:

Theory #1: “We didn’t pray hard enough / have a good enough attitude / enough faith.” This one makes me the angriest. Half the saints of the South have been praying for us with fasting, alms, and tears. If cancer was a popularity contest, one using prayers or good works as “votes,” Thomas would have won.

Besides, that whole theory puts God in a bad light. It sets God up to say things like, “Sorry, Christian moms in Darfur whose children are stolen, raped, and made into soldiers. You didn’t have enough votes. Your child loses, while all kinds of good and bad parents in the US get to raise their kids in peace.”

Now, I don’t mean to discourage anyone from praying. I just think that, at best, the process of being healed is a mystery. It always has been. The Bible says Jesus was a healer, it’s true. But if you read those stories as examples of Jesus rewarding people for extraordinary faith or good works, I think you’re reading wrong. The hero of those stories is Jesus, not the heal-ee.

Before evangelicalism evolved in the US in the 19th century, Christians believed that Christ identified most with those who were suffering. They believed – Theory #2 - that suffering deepened our humanity and thus our identification with Christ. I believe that suffering simply sucks, but at least this is one theory that doesn’t blame the victim.

The main trouble I have with Theory #2 is that it quickly warps into Theory #3: “God makes you suffer so He can teach you something.” Lord, I hope not.

I’ve learned a lot of valuable lessons through the joyful events in my life. I also grew up believing that God was the source of creativity and wisdom. Theory # 3 would have me believe that God is slowly and painfully killing my son just to teach Thomas or the people who love him a lesson. I’m not buying it.

Sure, we’ve learned some things during this time. We’ve learned how to give intravenous meds; how to identify pain in an unconscious or sleeping child; how to make very, very sad phone calls. But there are plenty of people up at Children’s hospital who know these things and whose kids are going to get better, or who simply read about them in their medical text books. Suffering happens, and you learn things. But it’s clear that each can happen separately as well.

I’m obviously not going to wrap up the arguments over theodicy here. But what I do know for certain is that most people, religious and irreligious, are uncomfortable sitting with grief. I sure am. I’d rather believe anything else than the truth: this is happening; I can’t stop it; it’s going to hurt.

So this is my theory: Death is a mystery. Even for those who believe we’ll meet again in the sky, suffering and death are scary and sad. A thousand years may be a day for God; but for you and me, the space between the difficult now and the glorious hereafter is an awfully long time.

Interestingly, my bravest friends, be they Christian pastors or confirmed heathens, have tended to explain the least. Instead, they have quietly anointed us with their kindnesses. They have prepared meals for us in the presence of our bitter enemy. They are holding our hands as we walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death.

They have been, I mean, like Christ. We’re all scared as hell, but I think this is the best we can do.

Sarah Bickle

I met Sarah McManus when she was in 8th grade. This would have 1990 or 91. I was invited by THE David Gentiles, to whom “Blue Like Jazz” was dedicated, to come to the church where he was the youth minister and participate in a weekend Bible study. I was the leader for the 8th graders.

Sarah was tall, with thick, beautiful, red hair. She was so peppy and full of energy. She ran around the house in her socks that weekend, as often as not on her tip-toes. Here is how I interpret her walking on her toes: There was so much energy and excitement wanting to burst out of this child that she couldn’t keep her heels on the floor. She was the perfect Anne of Green Gables, and I told her so. If L.M. Montgomery’s work hadn’t come first, I would have sworn she modeled the character on Sarah.

The next year I came back for the Bible study weekend and was assigned the 9th graders, so I had a second weekend with Sarah and her friends. Then our churches went to the same youth camp a couple of years, so I saw her during the summers. After that we loosely kept up with each other. By the time she was in college, email had come into its own, and we exchanged them now and again. I was always charmed by her intelligence, her passion for life, and by her sincere desire that her Christianity be a serious life journey and not just a cultural label.

Sarah met Scott in college. They married and she became Sarah Bickle. As I got to know Scott I could see that he was the right man for her. They lived here and there, ending up in Dallas. Sometimes Sarah and Scott would spend the night at our house if they were in town. We had children, and they would watch us put them to bed and do various parenting things. I imagine they were wondering what it would be like when they had children of their own.

Sarah sent me an email when she got pregnant. I rejoiced along with all of her friends and waited during the pregnancy.

His name is Thomas, and he is the first-born child of Sarah and Scott. It looked like things were working out just as I hoped they would. Sarah and Scott were young and happy. They were throwing themselves into life and parenting.

And then came the news that Thomas had a brain tumor. The news was a terrible shock to all of us that know and love Sarah and Scott and Thomas. What followed was two years of treatment and hopes and disappointments and financial struggle and pain. They take turns. One works and the other stays home with Thomas. They have lived on prayers and desperation and the unexplainable energy that mothers and fathers have when their child is sick. Nothing matters but doing everything for Thomas that can be done. All else has been put on hold.

They have tried everything, but in the end it appears that cancer will end Thomas’ life just as it was getting started. They have stopped treating his illness and are seeking to give Thomas the best life possible while there is time.

Life knows nothing of fairness. I don’t mean that life understands fairness and rejects it. I mean that fairness has no part in life unless you or I are imposing it. Humans want fairness and sometimes work for it, but it is no part of the natural order. That’s one of the reasons why believing in a just and loving God is so hard for many of us.

Because God had not forced fairness on life and nature, there will always be families like the Bickles who endure unthinkable tragedy and hardship. Parents who are losing a child live in a world that is unknown to those of us who have not. No one knows this terrible journey but those who have taken it. There have been times when I was talking to Sarah on the phone and my inability to say anything was painful to me. What can you say to this mother? To this father?

Sarah sent me something that she wrote. I asked her if I could post it here because her words are important. No one dares write about such things except someone who has lived them. I’ve had a few people stand in for me as guest bloggers. Maybe two or three. Sarah was the first one back in 2005. I looked at what she wrote here in 2005 and realized that she was pregnant with Thomas at that time.

Tomorrow Sarah will be a guest blogger here. I will offer no comment or addition to her words. I only wish that Sarah be heard.

rlp

Visit the Thomas Bickle blog.