We think that we are acting particularly responsibly if every other week we take another look at the question whether the way on which on which we have set out is the right one. It is particularly noticeable that such a "responsible reappraisal" always begins the moment serious difficulties appear. We then speak as though we no longer had "a proper joy and certainty" about this way, or, still worse, as though God and his Word were no longer as clearly present with us as they used to be. In all this we are ultimately trying to get round what the New Testament calls "patience" and "testing." . . . Dear brethren, our real trouble is not doubt about the way upon which we have set out, but our failure to be patient, to keep quiet. We still cannot imagine that today God really doesn't want anything new for us, but simply to prove us in the old way. . . . And we simply cannot be constant with the fact that God's cause is not always the successful one, that we really could be "unsuccessful": and yet be on the right road. But this is where we find out whether we have begun in faith or in a burst of enthusiasm.
This is an excerpt from a letter Bonhoeffer wrote in 1938, expressing his frustration with the fact that some other leaders of the Confessing Church (which had been established to preserve authentic Christian beliefs in the face of efforts to "nazify" the German "Christian Church") were failing to stand firm against the growing pressure of the Nazi regime. This passage spoke to me as a powerful challenge in two primary ways.
First, it is a strong exhortation to stay the course in the face of obstacles and even when the rosebush-lined path leads to a thorny bramble. I used to have a strong conviction of this when I was a child, and I remember finding strength and peace in it. It gave me courage to endure (somtimes lengthy) periods of tremendous pain and/or uncertainty. My faith was truly more child-like back then. It was mostly heart, and less accompanied by questioning eyes.
I need to return to that time. Now, when certain types of difficulties arise, I often become so weak and spiritually floppy. I whine in my soul that God has left me alone. I inwardly pout. I find that I cannot join in the chorus that "never once did we ever walk alone / never once did You leave us on our own" without tears forming in my eyes, because in my self-centered and bratty state, I feel utterly alone. In those moments, I picture myself as a young child whose face is downcast and dripping with hot, streaming tears. Her arms are folded tightly and her back is hunched. She can see nothing besides the blurry view of wet splotches hitting the ground. Beside her, the child's father is patiently standing with his hand outstretched towards her. He is there. He has never left her. And he remains. She knows he is there--who can deny it?!--but she refuses to acknowledge or feel his presence. And then she cries that her father has left her alone to fend for herself. It is all childish nonsense. That's me sometimes. It does Him no honor.
Second, I am reminded that difficulties and hardships do not necessarily indicate that we are on the wrong path. And obedience does not always lead to "success," "provision," or a "positive" outcome, as the world defines any of those terms. We live in a disturbing age of the prosperity Gospel, where certain errant preachers teach that because we follow Jesus, He will provide a good job. He will provide a home to live in. He will provide a husband/wife. He will provide this, that, or the other thing. No no no no no no no. That's not the world we live in, and that's not the bargain with Jesus. Because we follow Jesus, yes, He will provide life eternal. He will provide strength to withstand all temptation. He will provide the Spirit as our inheritance. He will be with us always, even to the ends of the earth. Those are not the measures of earthly success, though...and that's why we can be on the correct path (i.e. following Jesus) and end up in the "wrong" circumstances. Life with Jesus doesn't (necessarily) equal an easy life. But a worthwhile one? Absolutely. Too often, we conflate the two.
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It is not war that first brings death, not war that first invents the pains and torments of human bodies and souls, not war that first unleashes lies, injustice, and violence. It is not war that first makes our existence so utterly precarious and renders human beings powerless, forcing them to watch their desires and plans being thwarted and destroyed by more "exalted powers." But war makes all of this, which existed already apart from it and before it, vast and unavoidable to us who would gladly prefer to overlook it all.
Bonhoeffer wrote this in a letter to his Finkenwalde brethren in 1940, when he was pretending to pretend to be pastor under the auspices of the Abwehr (German military intelligence). This particular passage is poignant because it calls us to remember that the genesis of war is sin, not the other way around.
War is devastating, ugly, violent. It rips apart families, communities, countries, regions. It results in bloody messes, piles of corpses, unspeakable despair. And yet, in a very basic spiritual sense...war is just peacetime, writ large, and drafted in highlighter for all the world to see. Our natural sinful condition is just as present and just as destructive during peacetime. But we are able to ignore its devastating effects because it slowly and insidiously unravels the fabric of our lives, thread by thread, instead of simply tearing gashes in the garment as during wartime. The end effect of disintegration is the same: it's just that war forces us to look at ourselves in a way that peacetime does not.
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Dear Max, You have lost your father. . . . You are still very young to be without a father. But you have learned from him to honor the will of God in everything God gives and in everything God takes away. You have learned from him that a person's strength comes solely from being united with the will of God. . . In such times one must struggle through a great deal for oneself alone. You will have to learn out there how one sometimes must come to terms with someone alone before God. It is often very difficult, but these are the most important hours of life.
The war left virtually no family untouched. This is from Bonhoeffer's letter to Max, the sister of his fiancee, Maria, following the death of their father. The part that struck me about this part of the letter was the idea that sometimes we have to deal with God on our own. We have to face Him alone, ask Him questions alone, hear from Him alone, wrestle with Him alone. This goes against our (or at least my) natural inclination -- which is to turn to others for guidance, wisdom, insight, input. But I have experienced the truth in Bonhoeffer's statement in my own life, so I definitely believe it to be true: sometimes, we have to confront God on our own. And it is so difficult. And yet nothing is more important.
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