All The Light We Cannot See
“All The Light We Cannot See” by Pastor Rosanna McFadden
Good morning! I am happy to be with you and in the pulpit this this morning. Watching the news over the past week and the destruction of Hurricane Milton — in some areas on top of the destruction from Hurricane Helene just a week before — has taught me to not take electrical power, safe drinking water, and a roof over my head for granted. I expect I will forget this in the days to come when I get busy with other things or impatient with other things, but this week has been characterized by concern and gratitude for me. Concern for others and gratitude for beautiful, hurricane-free days in N Indiana.
In case you don’t know the ins and outs of sermon preparation, I want to tell you a bit about how I arrived at this text and theme this morning. The short answer is: reluctantly. I know some of you are aware of the Revised Common Lectionary, a rotation of readings for each Sunday in a three-year cycle. Although I don’t always use lectionary texts, I find them to give helpful structure, and challenge me to study parts of the Bible where I might be less inclined to go, if left to my own devices. There are typically four readings selected for each Sunday — a psalm, an Old Testament prophetic text, a reading from one of the gospels, and a reading from the epistles. Some Sundays they mesh together on a single theme, other Sundays, not so much. I often use the psalm as the basis of the Call to Worship. Part of being in the free-church tradition is that we don’t have a prescribed liturgy, and I have some latitude about which of the four texts I want to focus on. Occasionally I get a set of readings where nothing clicks for me; or where every text is difficult. Today is one of those Sundays.
I’m not using this as an excuse and suggesting that you all go home now. I have found that the texts which are most challenging are often the most fruitful in terms of my own preparation and reflection. If the Bible were easy, we’d all have it figured out by now. Some people think they do have it all figured out — I’d guess they are not preaching from Job very often. Job is beautifully written in both prose and poetry, but it’s a tough read. It’s a riches to rags story about a man who is so devout and faithful that God allows Satan to take everything from him — his children, his property, his wealth, his health — to see if Job will give in to despair and curse God. If you don’t know the ending, I won’t tell you. Our reading is from Chapter 23 of 42 chapters. Job is responding to a “friend” who has stopped by to cheer him up by asserting that surely this suffering is Job’s fault and he the cause of all his troubles. Job is not having it. He says, “Today my complaint is bitter. If I could go to God’s dwelling, I would lay out my case, fill my mouth with arguments and see what has God to say to me. Do you think God would listen? I’d like for a righteous person to stand up to God so I can be acquitted of any wrongdoing.” Oh boy. Job gets his wish, because eventually, and God does show up and speaks to him. It doesn’t go quite like Job thought it would.
Taken in its entirety, the book of Job is an exploration of the timeless question, “Why do bad things happen to good people?” of “Why do innocent people suffer?” I want to tell you two things this morning. The first is that there is not a very satisfying answer to that question — especially if you or someone you love is the person who is suffering. The three friends who come to console Job give him the standard answer, surely you deserve this for some reason. The second thing I want to tell you is that I selected this text to preach from today before either Helene or Milton wrecked destruction on Florida, Eastern Tennessee and Western North Carolina. Questions about our own suffering or the suffering of others are just as current today as they were for readers of the Old Testament, God role in our suffering is a legitimate concern. I have been particularly drawn into Job’s words in verses 8 and 9, regarding God:
If I go forward, he is not there; or backward, I cannot perceive him; on the left he hides, and I cannot behold him, I turn to the right, but I cannot see him.
And the last verses of that passage say
I am terrified at his presence; when I consider, I am in dread of him. God has made my heart faint, the Almighty has terrified me.
If only I could vanish in darkness and thick darkness would cover my face.
Remember, Job is not a sinful man who is afraid of God’s judgement; he is someone who loved and obeyed God and is now afraid of what else God might do to him. It’s partly that Job cannot see the light of God, and also that he doesn’t want to.
Have any of you read Anthony Doerr’s novel, All the Light We Cannot See? It’s a beautiful work of fiction, set during World War II: a French girl who is 12 at the beginning of the story, and lost her vision when she was 6. She has unique gifts for fighting the German occupation. Her story collides with a young German boy who was fascinated by radios, and his skill earns him a place in an elite and brutal Nazi regiment where he ultimately tracks the French resistance. It is a worthwhile read, and like the book of Job, explores themes of righteousness and evil, why innocent people suffer, and how they find meaning and redemption. The title All The Light We Cannot See is intriguing. For the young woman who is visually impaired, there is physical light she cannot see; but the more profound darkness is the metaphysical one of people who long for an end to suffering.
Job fits into the latter category. Perhaps you can identify with him, either for yourself or for someone you care about. Where is God when I am going through this terrible _____________ (you fill in the blank). I’d caution you not to put yourself there too quickly. We all know people for whom suffering is a badge of honor; proof that they are different, maybe even better, than others because of all they’ve had to go through. Job never brags about his suffering, he just wants it to end. He is not shy about claiming that he has been unjustly treated and challenging God to give him an explanation. Job gets his answer in chapter 38 . . . and 39, and 40 and 41. By chapter 42, Job has some new perspectives to consider.
I want to end with words from the New Testament, from the 11th chapter of Hebrews. “Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” Faith is believing in the light we cannot see, and even that belief is a gift from God. When we are walking in places where we cannot see the way ahead, when we cannot discern God’s presence before or behind or to our left or right, even when we’d rather not see God, there is light which we cannot see. For all Job’s suffering and complaining and accusing and challenging, there is never a time which he questions God existence. Job knows that God is out there — he’s just not very happy about it.
I know, on some intellectual level, but have not experienced on an emotional one, that there are people who have lost businesses, homes, and even family members in recent disasters. There is no blithe answer about their behavior or morality which can separate the God of Creation from that destruction. God has things to answer for. There is suffering we wrestle with on a more personal level, as well. It is insensitive, even heartless, to try to smooth this all over by telling someone its “God’s will.” But hope lies in our ability to believe in the light we cannot see, to seek the God whom we cannot control, and to accept that there are things which we will never understand. If God could be seen and controlled and understood, there would be no need for faith. And that is where I leave you this morning — a bit like a song which ends on an unresolved chord. Is that all? What next? Here is what’s next: we take the next step, and the next. We lean on the people who walk along side us; we do what we can to offer assistance where we can, we accept assistance when we need it. We watch for the light, and believe in the light we cannot see.This morning we will offer the service of anointing. We appreciate the courage of those who are willing to come forward to acknowledge that they need prayer for strengthening of faith, forgiveness of sin, and healing of mind, body, or spirit. We also need those who are willing to come forward to lay hands on them for prayer. For those who can’t see the way ahead, you may be the only light they see.