I have not acknowledged or sensed cognitive dissonance in myself, for a very long
time. And then, about two weeks ago, when conversing
with a friend of 50 years, it smacked me
in the face. For three years we have
been walking, talking and praying through the same issue. He has been in a constant state of vacillation,
month by month and sometimes week by week. I thought to myself; “maybe, just maybe, since some things have changed
and others probably never will, I just ought to give up, leave him in his stew and
move on.”
Psychologists
use the term "cognitive dissonance" to describe the bothered,
sometimes pained, state of mind that occurs when new evidence conflicts with a
current belief or outlook. When such dissonance occurs, resolution is arrived
at by discarding the new evidence, discarding the belief itself, or ideally,
evaluating what is known to be true and integrating the new information.
When I closely examine the lives of certain biblical characters such dissonance
is often and clearly evident. Abraham was devastated by the God he loved who
asked him to trust, even as he led his young son to be sacrificed. Saul spent
three days in blindness and without food trying to comprehend the presence of
the Christ he once persecuted. Mary wept at the empty tomb, pleading with the
gardener to show her the body. The instances where God's plans conflicted with
the understanding of God's people are scattered throughout Scripture.
Even so, it is perhaps safe to say that Job suffered from the most significant
case of cognitive dissonance known among men. Job's understanding of a gracious
and just God who rewards the righteous and punishes the unrighteous was
shattered by new evidence. Grieving the loss of the God he loved, yet unable to
discard the relationship, the question of divine justice tortured his mind. "As water wears away stones and torrents wash away the
soil," he cried, "so you destroy man's hope" And yet, against the counsel of
his wife, Job was unwilling to discard his belief and allow his hope to be
washed away.
Job, in these past days has become the hopeful symbol of a steadfast mind
amidst the ashes of my questions concerning my walk with my friend. Why am I so
troubled and afflicted? Why would a good God permit the mental suffering? Why has
God stood a far off in these last three years? Why is God so absent on giving him clear direction? I read a bit ago where someone wrote that life's most plaguing questions is resistant to decomposition.
I remember there years ago when I had a call from my friend with regard to the
devastating situation and tragic news what seemed to be a loss of a twenty year relationship investment. When I shared, in tears, my
deep hurt to the Lord, the only uttered response I received was: "The Lord works in mysterious
ways."
To my aged mind, the response has been both inspiring and maddening. Perhaps I
wanted the Lord to cling with me in the sorrow of moment of “what do I say,
what do I do?” To cry out at the unfairness of the situation, to give me the
answer to; "Why is this happening to my friend and Your servant?"
Perhaps the other day I suspected He wasn't feeling the loss as intensely as I
thought He should. I love my friend—so many memories have been experienced since our college
days. And I knew that God’s sense of loss is undoubtedly far more intense than
mine. And still, He stood by His words written in Scripture and chose to cling
to them: "For my thoughts are not
your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways" from Isaiah 55:8.
The
more I live intentionally the more God’s stories challenge me to remember that
just as there is intelligence behind His creation and design, so there is
intelligence behind the One who helps me cope with my personal, professional
and pastoral struggles. That which I don't understand can still hold within its
core the wisdom and mystery of God. This was the knowledge I needed to be held
near but had let slip from my soul over time.
In the words of Henry David Thoreau, truth often strikes me from behind, and in
the dark.
I now realize that though ashes will not rise again to always be beauty, I hold
the promise that my friend’s and my broken lives will rise again to see God.
Somehow through his suffering and in the dark, Job discovered this assurance.
Like Abraham at the place of Isaac's sacrifice and Mary at the tomb of Christ,
Job declared the faithfulness of God in the midst of his situation: "For I know that my Redeemer lives, and that in the end
he will stand upon the earth. And after my skin has been destroyed, yet in my
flesh I will see God; I myself will see him with my own eyes—I, and not
another."
Such is God's final word to this sorrowing Bill Prather.
