Standing right outside the doors to the gas chambers at the Dachau concentration camp, I could feel my fists clinching. I was angry. I wanted to yell at God. How can someone be angry at God and still hold onto the hope that I am told we must cling to as Christians? How can I be a faithful witness, living in that tension? In my head, I was yelling at God, “How could you let this happen?” I knew this was not the right question, but it was all I knew to ask.

It had been that same question I had been asking for months; the same back and forth conversation that had been going on in my head and with God. Just a month before I stood where way too many people lost their lives, I was reminded of the frailty of life when I received word that one of my best friends and his wife were in a car accident. “She did not make it,” I remember hearing, though I was not able to function much longer after hearing those words. I broke down into uncontrollable sobs in the middle of my college campus parking lot. Complete strangers, who had noticed something was wrong, came over and hugged us, reminding us that Christians do not grieve like the world grieves. We are supposed to grieve with hope.

Yet, how do we hold onto such hope when we receive word that a loved one just died? How do we remain hopeful in grieving yet another miscarriage? How do we stay positive when standing in the middle of tornado devastation? How can we be faithful when we just want to scream at the injustice?

Somehow I believe we can hold onto hope, even in the turmoil of everything falling apart. I believe that even in asking tough questions, we are not losing hope. We are more so developing a stronger faith. I believe that even in the screams, there is no sign of lost hope. Through the screams, I often find myself falling to my knees.

I believe that we are called to live in the tension of the Kingdom of God that was ushered in by Jesus’ life and resurrection, but we have not yet known the fullest of life in the Kingdom. Sometimes we are left crying, without answers. I have found that sometimes our tears can be our prayers and our questions are our worship.


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