Sometimes when I read the Bible, I feel like shouting: “is this all you have to say? God?” When it comes to faith, I have failed more than I can count. Walk by faith, not by sight. But isn’t it easier to want a sign? God show me if I am on the right path. Tell me if it is a mistake. Give me a sign that she is the one.

The solution is all so simple: ‘hey, turn to your Bible! Make a prayer!’ Simple things. But is there anything else so desperately difficult? Many times I have read the Bible without reading it, and many times I have mumbled a string of words, but I have known it, somewhere deep in myself, that it will make no difference.

There are difficult passages in the Bible. There are so many things in that big book that are just difficult to make sense of.

A little further on…

It has always been easy to read that bit of text when I am in high spirits, and to rejoice that the Word of God is such an encouragement. Oh God my provider! See how he clothes the lilies. See how he feeds the sparrows. I rejoiced to have food. I rejoiced to have clothing. And I would believe the Bible. When I had food, and when I had clothing. Yet now, while there’s nothing to eat, and as I am naked, the way I see it, why does it all look like a lie? How, God, do you expect me not to worry about food, that I should instead glory that I have life? Of what use is life when there is no food? Don’t you need food to stay alive, and to do your work? Will I tell the landlord when he comes that my life is more important than food, than his money?

It’s easy to believe when it’s easy to believe. The world doesn’t seem to be making sense anymore. People are winning, obviously without God. What do we gain from our believing, in God, or in His Bible? We are suffering in the hands of men that spite God, and who are not afraid to out-rightly curse him. What is the Almighty that we should serve him? And what profit do we get if we pray to him? He didn’t give me my million dollars.

Most people who haven’t read Job closely enough think that he was a perfect man. He was. But I am yet to meet such a bitter man. He looked to heaven, and cried, “show me oh God. What wrong have I done, that I should suffer this way?” He hadn’t done any wrong, we know that. Maybe I also have a right to be bitter, and to cry that I should suffer this much, but could I demand, like Job: “God, show me the wrong I have done.”? Could you?

Don’t be anxious. Don’t worry about tomorrow. God has it all figured out. Come on, I have had those words a million times. I have read them over and over again in the Bible. And I know they don’t work. I have tried and I have failed; they don’t work! And what right do you have to console me for my troubles when you don’t know what it is like to have the same troubles? How could you ever understand?

No, sometimes I don’t believe the Bible anymore. And while I nod at you, I don’t believe a word you are saying. How could you ever understand, when in your thoughts, you who are at ease, there is contempt for misfortune? But where else can I go? The pub? A brothel? What about I hang myself? I could do all these things; I will not. What salvation is there in them? I could do what I want with my life. But for what? I know I don’t believe what the Bible says anymore, and the questions that I have, not even science could answer them. I would love it if God would show up himself, and tell me that it all works out in the end. I know He won’t.

It doesn’t work, but where else does it work? What else does? Oh, there is somewhere I can find rest? Somewhere else I can have peace? Tell me. I would love to know. You know nothing does, right? I will read my Bible. It doesn’t work alright, but I will still read it. Okay, I have nothing with which to prove He is up there, and how could I believe what I cannot prove? I could leave, but where to? It does not work anywhere else, and it does not work here; I will stay here. God, I don’t believe you are up there, or anywhere else, and if you really were, would you care if I believed it or not? If you made the whole world, would it disturb you if I said that you did not? Would you need to prove to me that you existed? I don’t believe you exist. I cannot feel it, but I know you do. I am staying. If it’s not my believing that makes you exist, why should I leave because I don’t believe you do? Because I don’t feel like you do?

All this sadness?

Henry Madaga

·

November 23, 2024

Things used to be amazing. Not anymore. I cannot find a trace of all that joy and easiness of spirit I once had. I was great company; am I anymore? Even to myself? Those were good days. I miss the days when I did not have to measure my words, and think over what I meant to say. I miss those moments when I was okay shouting at the top of my voice. Those …

Read full story