The God We Don’t Want to Talk About

There’s a story that comes from one of my favorite works of C.S. Lewis. It tells of Shasta, a young boy on a mission to save a kingdom. It’s a mission unbeknownst to him. In his mind, he’s just a kid on the run. In his flight, he meets a young girl named Aravis. They travel together with many an adventure, narrowly escaping one predicament only to be thrown headlong into another.

Along their journey they encounter a lion. There are tales from that region of a lion that prowls the land. Some say he is a demon. Some say he doesn’t exist. Some claim he is the King. But the lion that comes upon the children seems to be only an ordinary, ravenous carnivore. On horseback, the children race for safety as the lion pursues them relentlessly. At the edge of a hermit’s walled forest fortress, the lion leaps, grabbing Aravis and raking his claws across her back. Just in time they slip through the gates of the hermit’s home and the lion turns away.

While Aravis’ wounds are tended, Shasta receives an urgent message about an impending attack on the kingdom of Narnia. He is entrusted with the task of warning the kingdom and must immediately remount and race to Narnia. Not long into his mission he finds himself lost in the thick night of a strange forest, alone and afraid. As his horse picks his way along the path, Shasta becomes aware that someone else is with him. He hears the rhythm of the footsteps and the breath of something both magnificent and terrible. His blood runs cold. After minutes that pass like agonizing eternities, he musters the courage to speak. In a faltering voice he enquires of the identity of the one who journeys with him. The answer? “One who has waited long for you to speak.”

As he feels the warm breath of this One, peace courses through his entire being and he realizes this is not the demon ghost of the fairy tales. Soon his sorrows come pouring out. But the One with Shasta already knows these sorrows. Indeed his handprint is revealed in every perilous moment. In each harrowing escape, he was the Rescuer. It is a fact Shasta is soon ready to accept, but for one thing. He asks the One with him, “What of the lion? Where were you when we were being chased?” “I was that lion,” comes the astounding reply. Shasta is horrified. “Why?” is all he can stammer out.

Gently the Lion explains. Shasta was to play a part in saving the kingdom, however the children and their horses had grown weary. At their pace they would never have made it in time to receive the message of warning for the kingdom had the lion not come to chase them. Understanding begins to dawn for Shasta, but he still isn’t satisfied. “Why did you have to wound Aravis? Could you not have accomplished your purpose of hurrying us apart from harming her?”

“My child,” says the Lion, “I tell no one any story but his own.”*

He tells no one any story but his own. He tells no story but His own.

This is the God we don’t like to talk about.

Could it really be that we serve One who would not merely allow, but actually introduce pain into the lives of His children in order that a larger story be advanced, in order that His glory be revealed and knees bow in reverence before Him? It could be, and I believe, it is.

As I understand it, there are countless stories of this very truth throughout Scripture. Less importantly, though no less real, there are countless stories of this in my own life as well. But for tonight’s purposes I look no further than Job.

Oh Job, Job. The book we all wish weren’t in the Bible. How we love to skip to the end where it says, “The Lord restored the fortunes of Job when he prayed for his friends, and the Lord increased all that Job had twofold” (42:10). I love that verse. But I get stuck right in the first chapter, in what must be one of the more disturbing scenes of the Bible:

6Now there was a day when the sons of God came to present themselves before the LORD, and Satan also came among them. 7The LORD said to Satan, “From where do you come?” Then Satan answered the LORD and said, “From roaming about on the earth and walking around on it.” 8The LORD said to Satan, “Have you considered My servant Job? For there is no one like him on the earth, a blameless and upright man, fearing God and turning away from evil.” 9Then Satan answered the LORD, “Does Job fear God for nothing? 10“Have You not made a hedge about him and his house and all that he has, on every side? You have blessed the work of his hands, and his possessions have increased in the land. 11“But put forth Your hand now and touch all that he has; he will surely curse You to Your face.” 12Then the LORD said to Satan, “Behold, all that he has is in your power, only do not put forth your hand on him.” So Satan departed from the presence of the LORD.

We can argue that God was not the causal force behind the breath-taking pain and destruction that ensued in the following chapters. I’ll allow that, but that isn’t really the point here. You cannot read the text and miss the fact that God set the scene and gave the permission. There is no perfume in the world that can flower over the nose-scorching scent of that reality.

Save the last threads of his life, there was nothing off-limits in Job’s story. He lost wealth, loved-ones, health and all that goes along. His sense of security, posterity, hope for the future, dreams, love, companionship, comfort – all razed to ashes. There he sat amidst the rubble of a demolished life, scraping boils with shards of broken pottery, bemoaning the day of his very conception; and all the while, welling in the background, was the tune of his wife’s destitute counsel, “Curse God and die.”

This is the picture we don’t want to discuss. We’ll dance all around it in hopes of conjuring up for ourselves a satisfactory god, one who fits into our delicate sensibilities. But we will not stare this beast of a question straight in the eye. What do we do with this? It is messy and distasteful and frankly quite frightening. Who wants to serve a Lord and Master who would dare to lead us straight into the flames?

I, for one, do. And am. And will. And I am not alone, but stand with many others. I have no illusions that I will resolve this age-old debate nor put to rest every last question about the nature and character of God. Still, I will tell you of the foundation upon which I stand when – even in the midst of obedience – the calamitous waters begin to rise. I do not cling to chapter forty-two or hopes of restored fortunes, but instead to the powerful elocution of my God which begins in the thirty-eighth chapter.

“Where were you,” God asks Job, “when I spoke the world into existence? What qualifications have you to offer that would convince me to believe you can comprehend the world as I?”

“Is it at your command that the eagle mounts up


And makes his nest on high?

On the cliff he dwells and lodges,

Upon the rocky crag, an inaccessible place.

From there he spies out food;

His eyes see it from afar.

His young ones also suck up blood;

And where the slain are, there is he” (Job 39:27-30)

“You see the slain. You see death and destruction. I see provision for the young and needy.” We see little more than how the events of our life affect us. God sees how they affect us and how they affect everything else. And He is working for the good.

We tell ourselves the question we ask is, “Is God good?” But I think more often what we really want to know is, “Does God fit into my idea of what’s good for me?” Should He really be allowed to (insert your present pain or discomfort)?

We are on the wrong page.

We will never begin to be able to stomach what seems like unending and unmerited pain so long as we are on the throne and God is on our leash. As my pastor says, “Life cannot be understood when man is big and God is small.”

Of the lion in the beginning of our story it was asked, “Is he safe?” And the reply, “Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.”** So it is with our King. There is hope in Christ alone, my dear friends. There is coming a day when every tear will be wiped from the eyes of His surrendered children. We will look upon His face and nothing, absolutely nothing, we have sacrificed or endured will matter one iota in the light of the One who was wounded in our place. With all that I am, I testify: He is good. He is worthy. He has the right.

*The Horse and His Boy

**The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe 

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