Hi all!
Well, I'm back. You're probably wondering about my strange title. I have an explanation. (I always do, as you probably know by now ;) ). Its the title of a short story that I wrote in writing class a while back and would like to share with you. In it I make the attempt to answer the age-old question of why God allows bad things to happen. So if you're one of those people who asks that question--or if you already know the answer--please enjoy the story. And if you have any questions, feel free to make use of the comment option!
~
Along the highway leading to a little, rural, American town called Burgh there sat a faded barn. A debate persisted among the locals, who couldn’t decide whether it dated from the First or Second World War. The majority of the opinion lay with World War II, for tattered and faded posters plastered the inside walls and proclaimed the patriotism of growing a Victory Garden and blaring “Uncle Sam needs YOU! Serve your country! Fight the Japanese and Germans!”
Apparently, according to popular legend, the owner of the barn had gotten so swept up in his own patriotic efforts that he went and joined up and then died in a horrific explosion in the South Pacific, leaving behind a wife, a small child, and one freshly painted barn. After the wife found it convenient to remarry and move to her new husband’s home, the once proud barn deteriorated into little more than a shell. Ever since, the creaky old edifice had served often as a destination for teenage partiers and drug users. It had seen drunken revelry, a couple of murders, and now a suicide.
For it was certainly a suicide. Sergeant Freeman had concluded as much when he found the note lying next to the body on the hollow barn’s floor. He knew the victim. It was the barn owner’s great-granddaughter, Bonny. Sergeant Freeman had tried to stop Bonny from participating in the questionable activities housed in the barn. He had talked to her mother. He had prayed for her every day. Yet here she was, lying prostrate and lifeless on a pile of moldy hay.
“I better go tell her mother,” he told himself heavily.
In an apartment in town, Mrs. Molly Brown bustled in the door. Pulling off her work uniform and depositing her groceries on the counter, she called “Bonny! I’m home!”
She began to bustle mechanically around the tiny, well-kept kitchen and fix super. Then the door-bell rang and she dashed over to answer with a spoon in one hand.
“Why, Sergeant Freeman! Come right in!”
The policeman stepped gravely over the doorstep.
“Is Bonny in trouble again?” Mrs. Brown asked in a jaded tone. “I told her to stay away from that crowd, that it was going to make her worse than she already is.”
“No, ma’am, it’s even worse than that.” The sergeant paused to collect himself, pain flickering through his eyes. “Ma’am, I regret to inform you that Bonny has committed suicide.”
The spoon clattered onto the floor. Bonny had killed herself? Her little Bonny? She knew Bonny had been sullen lately, but—this? No, it was impossible. There must be some mistake.
“She left a note for you, ma’am. Would you like to read it?” The policeman’s voice jolted Mrs. Brown back to the world. Suddenly, she felt like sobbing.
“Yes!” she whispered.
He handed the note to her. She unfolded it with trembling hands and read “Dear Momma, I’m sorry that I’ve been such a disappointment to you. I’ve done many bad things and find I simply can’t bear it any longer. I won’t be around to ruin your life anymore. Love, Bonny. P.S. Please tell Sam I’m sorry I didn’t get to see him again.”
This was too much. Mrs. Brown collapsed into a chair and broke into violent tears.
“Ma’am?” Sergeant Freeman’s voice once more cracked into Mrs. Brown’s thoughts. “I just wanted to offer my pastor and church congregation to manage Bonny’s funeral. That is, if you don’t have a church of your own.”
Mrs. Brown wiped her eyes. “No, no, that would be good.” She confessed, “I haven’t set foot in a church since I was a teenager myself.”
“All right Mrs. Brown. I’ll tell my pastor. Call me if you need anything.” Sergeant Freeman paused, and an expression Mrs. Brown couldn’t quite place passed over his eyes. “I’ll be praying for you.” The policeman left.
Molly cried. Loud, long, moaning sobs that wrenched up her face and tore at her heart. Bonny! Her own Bonny! What had she done to make her daughter so miserable? First her son came back from the war well-nigh broken, then her husband left, and now Bonny! How could God let this happen? Molly thought back to her childhood, when her preacher father had spent hours talking about the Gospel. He had said that God was good. How could that be?
Slowly, steadily, the tears died down and Molly found that she was weary. Weary from the very bottom of her soul and the depths of her heart. With one more hiccup and a shaky sigh, she sat up and reached for the phone. Her ex-husband, Bonny’s father, needed to know.
The phone rang once, then twice, then three times. Finally she heard, “This is Dale Brown. Whaddaya need?”
Some things would never change. “Dale, this is Molly.”
“Oh.” Molly could hear him sigh, as he always did when uncomfortable. He had sighed quite frequently when they were dating and had to listen to her father tell him about Jesus. “Can you call some other time, Moll? I was just about to have some supper...”
“Dale, this is important;” Molly interrupted sharply, “it’s about Bonny.”
“Bonny is it! Well, send her right on over here; I’ll get her straightened out!” Dale sounded relieved.
“She’s dead.” Molly was in no mood for explaining things gently, and besides, Dale was liable to hang up if he thought the conversation was over.
“What? You’re foolin’!” Dale exclaimed.
“No, I’m not.” Molly retorted, rather waspishly. “Sergeant Freeman just called to report that she had committed suicide.”
“Well gee!” gasped Dale with emotion, “I—I don’t know what to say!”
“I don’t know either,” Molly sighed in a somewhat softer tone. “I don’t know either.”
“Well gee...umm, do you want to call Sam or should I?”
Sam. He would certainly be sorry to hear the news, Molly thought. Bonny’s older brother had been her hero before he went to war, when he had been a good kid and gone to youth group at his grandpa’s church. He should know.
“No, I’ll do it,” Molly answered. “I think he might take it better from me.”
They both hung up, and Molly dialed the phone again. She barely heard Sam’s “hello?” over the loud music and hysterical laughter.
“Hello, Sam? This is Mom. Can you go into another room? I can’t hear you!” Molly shouted.
“Uh, sure,” Sam replied. After a short pause he asked, “Is this better?”
“Much!” Molly exclaimed. Then she sighed, and closed her eyes. “Sam, I have some bad news for you. It’s about Bonny.”
“Bonny!” Molly could almost see Sam’s forehead wrinkle, as it always did when he was worried. “What about her? Has she gotten hurt? If anyone’s laid a finger on her I’ll...”
“It’s worse than that,” Molly broke in heavily. “She’s killed herself.”
Silence resounded on the other side of the phone. Molly imagined his face, fighting tears, fighting emotion.
“I see. When’s the funeral?” Sam asked in the same tone of voice filled with false bravado he used to speak about what had happened during the War in Iraq.
Molly nearly sobbed. “I don’t know yet. There’s paperwork to clear up; but Sergeant Freeman is going to have his pastor conduct the service.”
“Oh, okay.” A very pregnant pause ensued. “Mom...” A sigh. “If you need anything, let me know. I mean—just call me.”
Molly nodded. “I will, Sam.”
Mother and son hung up, and Molly collapsed on the couch. She found that she had no more tears left to cry, even if she had wanted to. Perhaps she had borrowed some of Sam’s stoicism. Or perhaps she was merely numb. Thoughts whirled in her head, yet she couldn’t express them aloud. Sadness, despair, anger at herself, resentment at God, and shock. Yes, that was it, she was still in shock.
Molly got up halfheartedly to make herself a cup of tea. She would need it. It was going to be a long night.
Not many days later, in a little graveyard outside of town, a little wren sat on a branch and welcomed the lively spring morning with song. Crocuses had sprung up all around the grave plots, the trees had tiny, tender new leaves, and for the first time the breeze that blew in the morning savored of the south. Suddenly, a crunching sound disturbed the peaceful morning.
Startled, the singing wren fluttered up into the air to spot the source of the commotion. She gawked as a long, black car, followed by a caravan of other cars, wound its way toward a freshly dug grave. Slowly, the car came to a halt and men drew a large, oblong box out of the back and began lowering it into the grave. More and more people steadily climbed out of cars.
One woman made her way rapidly toward the grave. It occurred to the little wren that this woman must not have a comfortable nest or a he-wren to share it with, for she looked weary and lonesome. Yet there were two men following along behind her. How very strange! The younger one must have been her fledgling chick, but the wren could not make out the older man at all. The wren thought he must be the woman’s mate, and yet he did not get very close to her, or comfort her.
For it suddenly struck the little wren that the strange family was very sad, and that the sadness had something to do with the long box. She was about to fly over to investigate when a bug crawling on the ground below her caught her eye, and she forgot all about the people.
At that moment, the woman turned from the grave to scan the crowd of guests. All these people! Most of them she didn’t recognize. A few, however, like Sergeant Freeman, were familiar faces. The policeman hurried over to the Browns.
“I’m very sorry about what happened, Mrs. Brown. Bonny wasn’t a bad girl, really, she just fell into bad company,” he asserted.
“Thank you for your concern, Sergeant, but I’ve all but decided that it was really my fault,” Molly replied, chin trembling. “I should have tried to be there for her more.” Then Molly sniffed. “But never mind about that. Let’s talk about this funeral you’ve given us. Why, your whole church must be here!”
The policeman nodded with a smile, as if glad of the change of subject. “Yes, ma’am, and we’re glad to do it, too! Pastor Jimmy has an excellent sermon planned.”
Molly noticed that both Dale and Sam blanched at the prospect of a sermon. Normally she would have glared at them, but with her own heart so heavy, she didn’t know if even she could handle a long-winded sermon. It had been a long time since she’d had to sit through one of her father’s.
Sergeant Freeman appeared to guess their thoughts, for he chuckled and exclaimed “Don’t worry! Pastor Jimmy usually keeps funeral sermons short and to the point. You’ll probably end up looking for more, by the time he’s done.”
From the look on Sam’s face, Molly considered that was doubtful. About then she noticed a man standing next to the open grave with a microphone.
“Good morning, everybody, and thank you for coming to Bonny’s funeral.” The man, who could only be Pastor Jimmy, paused to ensure that he held everyone’s attention. “I’d like to ask you to gather around here by the casket, and we’ll have a short time of teaching before we bury this young lady.” Another short pause. Everybody hushed and silently walked closer to Pastor Jimmy.
“Today we have gathered together in remembrance of Bonny Grace Brown. While there are many wonderful things, I am sure, that I could say about her life, I believe that the Lord has instead called me to say something about her death.”
About her death? What did he mean? Certainly he wasn’t going to rant and rave about her suicide in front of everybody, on her funeral day? Molly shifted uncomfortably on her feet. Dale sighed. Sam scuffed the grass.
“The fact is, however it occurs, death is a tragic thing.”
The crowd nodded and murmured in reply. Molly, too, nodded her head.
“And yet we must not despair. Not only has our God provided a way of eternal life for his elect, he provides hope for those left on earth after the death of a loved one. Turn with me to Genesis chapter fifty, please.”
Someone passed Bibles to Molly, Sam, and Dale. They scrambled to find the passage.
Once the rustling of pages had ceased, Pastor Jimmy briefly explained the story of Joseph. Then, picking up finally in Genesis fifty, he told how Joseph’s father had died, and how the brothers were scared that Joseph would take revenge for what they had done to them.
“Let’s zero in on verse twenty, now, and see how Joseph answers his brothers. He says ‘As for you, you meant evil against me, but God meant it for good, to bring it about that many people should be kept alive, as they are today.’”
Molly was hooked. This was something new! She didn’t remember her father ever preaching on this one! Sam’s and Dale’s faces, too, were riveted on the pastor. But what did the verse mean, exactly?
“You see,” Pastor Jimmy explained, “Joseph’s brothers meant to do something horrible to him. They sold him into slavery. Yet, by doing so, they put Joseph in a situation to rise to such power that he could help them in their time of need. Because of that, the brothers and their families were able to survive in Egypt, and the whole Jewish race was able to come into being. Because of that, God could fulfill the plan that he had from before the beginning of time to raise up a Messiah from the Jews to be our Savior.”
To be our Savior. Molly had certainly never thought of God having planned everything from before the beginning of time like this before. But what did this have to do with Bonny?
“You see, just as the brothers meant Joseph’s bondage for evil, so is Bonny’s death evil. But God, being rich in mercy and abounding in steadfast love, uses it for good. I don’t know exactly what that good is, yet, but it will come.” Pastor Jimmy nodded confidently, and then burst out, “How great and perfect is our God, who doesn’t take evil out of the world for he knows that more good comes of it that way than any other way! Let’s thank him, now. Dear Lord...”
During the prayer, Molly’s brain raced approximately at the speed of a freight train. God does not take evil out of the world because He is good? God uses evil for good? What did it all mean? Was it possible that God could love her, just as her father had always told her?
Suddenly, Molly had a burning desire to know more about what the pastor had said. This, somehow, felt like a crucial mission, like she would die if she did not find the answer.
Turning to Sam and Dale as soon as the funeral was over, she gasped “I need to talk to Pastor Jimmy!”
“I was thinking the same thing,” Sam confessed.
“Wait for me!” Dale protested.
Under any other circumstances, Molly would have found this peculiar, but now she didn’t have time. She turned around. Pastor Jimmy was standing right behind her.
Brushing aside her brief astonishment, she cried, “Pastor Jimmy, we need to know. Is it true, what you said?”
He smiled. As he smiled, Molly thought for an instant that that must be what Jesus’ smile looks like.
“Yes, it’s absolutely true,” Pastor Jimmy replied. “So true, in fact, that I’d stake my life on it. The Bible even says the same thing again, in Romans 8:28, where it says ‘And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose.’”
“Love God? Called together for His purpose? What does that mean?” Sam inquired. Molly nodded. She wondered about that, too.
“It means those who are saved by the blood of Jesus,” Pastor Jimmy explained.
“Well, are you gonna tell us what that means, Mr. Pastor, or am I gonna have to ask someone else?” Dale burst out.
Pastor Jimmy laughed. “No, I’ll tell you. Of course I’ll tell you! You see, each and every one of us is a sinner. That means we are born evil, live evil, and die evil. Since God is holy as well as good, he is so far away from being sinful that sinful beings can not get close to him, or have a relationship with him.”
Pastor Jimmy explained to them how God had sent his only Son—Himself, really—as Jesus to die for sins. He explained that, in order to be saved from their sins eternally and live as a child of God, all they had to do was believe in Jesus, believe as they had never believed in anything before.
All throughout, Molly saw herself in what Pastor Jimmy was saying. She was a sinner. She could never do anything but wicked, evil things. She saw that now. And she needed a savior, oh, how she needed a savior...
“I believe!” First it was a whisper, and then almost a battle cry. “I believe!”
Beside her she saw her former love and her son say the same. “I believe!”
Tears ran down their cheeks. Tears ran down her cheeks. How mournful and joyful and bitter and sweet was this day! She had lost a daughter, but she had gained eternity!
Now, as Molly turned to go, she realized how much brokenness in a mere second had been reconciled. She was no longer weary. She had a life to live, a life for God, her savior. And she had a family to live it with.
