For this, a particularly frightening Father’s Day, a reworking of a previous blog…
A while back, as I was listening to a song by James Blunt, I found myself starting to cry.
Now this will come as no surprise to those who are less than appreciative of the creative efforts of the one time captain in the British Army – such folk will no doubt see my distress as nothing more than the inevitable consequence of experiencing the efforts of the aforementioned musician. Even so, the reason I was reduced to tears had nothing to do with the artistic merit, or lack thereof, of what it was I was hearing.
The particular song in question was ‘Monsters’. In it Blunt sings of how his father had once chased away the monsters that had existed in his son’s life, and of how his Dad needn’t be afraid that his life is seemingly drawing near to its end, because Blunt junior has now taken on the responsibility of chasing away any monsters that continue to prowl the environs of Blunt senior’s remaining years.
So why the moist eyes?
I think, in part, they began to spill over on account of the fact that my own dear father is now 94 years old and, though he remains reasonably fit and well, he is inevitably gradually drawing ever closer to his own death.
As indeed are we all.
For what is true for my Dad, is equally regrettably, true for you and me. Perhaps, for us, our time has not yet gone – but the day is surely coming when it will have.
But more specifically, my sadness reflected a realisation that, despite being a genuinely great Dad who has, over the years, lessened a great many of the fears I have myself experienced, he has, of course, been no more successful in chasing away all the monsters in my life as I myself have been successful in chasing away all those that have inhabited the lives of my own children and those of others whom I have loved or cared for, both inside and outside of work.
Life is at times a scary business and, as a former doctor I have, perhaps, seen more of those things that lurk in the shadows than some others.
I know that the world is full of protracted dementia and premature death, it’s full of cancer and congenital disease, it’s full of pain, paralysis, sickness and sorrow.
But what I’ve seen in my life pales into relative insignificance when compared with what is currently being experienced by far too many people in far too many parts of the world.
Because, as we are all too well aware this weekend, it’s a world that is far too full of war as well.
We live, then, in a sometimes confusing and confounding place, one that is both wild and unpredictable. And whilst, for a time, we may be able to cage some of the monsters we encounter, as with those great creatures of old, the Behemoth and Leviathan, we can never tame them fully.
That is as true today as it surely will be tomorrow.
Perhaps, in part, that’s the point of monsters. Perhaps we are meant to be terrified by these fearful creatures, at least for as long as it takes for us to appreciate that it will always be beyond our ability to domesticate them and thus, render as harmless, that which threatens us most. (See Job Chapters 40 and 41). Only then will we come to realise that our only hope lies, not in ourselves, but in the one who created what terrifies us, in the one who, as their creator, stands high above each of those dreadful dangers and who, more terrifying perhaps than they are themselves, sovereignly controls and constrains them such that their sphere of influence extends only as far as he decrees.
Because of our finite and, therefore, inherently limited minds, there is, of course, an unfathomable mystery to God that we will never completely understand, an infinite depth to his being that we will never fully plumb. But by faith we know that this fear inducing deity, is also a God of love. As C.S. Lewis helpfully reminds us, God is not safe, but he is good.
In the book that bears his name, Job, in his anguish at the devastating loss he has experienced, pours out his complaint to God. And when it is eventually answered, it is out of the whirlwind that God graciously speaks. [Job 38.1].
Whatever our current circumstances, however incomprehensible we may be finding what is happening to us today, God has promised that he will ultimately restore the fortunes of his children just as he restored Job’s. And when he does, it will be as a result of his loving kindness and his infinite goodness.
Though he may, in his mercy, first have cause to humble us, an experience which we may find to be deeply painful, having done so he will vindicate us, accepting us as righteous on account of the perfect life lived by Jesus.
And in the end, he will richly bless us, a consequence of who he is by nature – that is a compassionate God who invites us to take refuge in him. Then, just as those who, sheltering in a crevice of a rock can marvel at the frightening force of the storm, so we, safe in Christ, will be able to marvel at the fearful awesomeness of who God really is.
So who will protect you from the hooded claw, who will keep the vampires from your door?
Surely only the one who is sovereign over all that is evil – surely only the one who, though God, paradoxically ‘emptied himself by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men and, being found in human form, humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.’ [Philippians 2:7-8]
This is the power of the perfect love shown by the perfect and almighty God who is love. His is a love that chooses to suffer, a love that chooses to lay down it’s life, and a love that, in so doing, subverts evil, disarms it of its power, and defeats death itself.
My father may not have been able to chase away all the monsters in my life, but he has pointed me to the one who can, a Father who is greater than either of us could ever be.
God is the only perfect father – one whose son I am glad to be. And he is the one to whom I seek to point others, including my own children, because, since his is the only perfect love, and since ‘perfect love casts out fear’ [1 John 4:18], he alone is the one who can deal with all that frightens them, all that frightens me, and all that frightens those I love and care for.
Contrary though to the lyrics that James Blunt sings in his song, there is a need for forgiveness. But the good news is that, on account of Christ dying a substitutionary death in our place, our faultless Heavenly Father, who does indeed know all our mistakes, lovingly offers that forgiveness to all who will receive it.
If then, when our time is gone, we know his forgiveness, and if, as we close our eyes in sleep for that final time, we hear someone gently whisper ‘Don’t be afraid’, we will know, even then, that there really is nothing that we need fear.
For then, the monsters really will have all been chased away…forever.
For those unfamiliar with the song ‘Monsters’ – here’s a link to where you can listen to it. You can say what you think, I think it’s all right!
Related post:
To read ‘On NOT being afraid at Halloween’, click here
To read ‘At Halloween – O death where is your victory?’, click here
To read ‘When Bad Things Happen’, click here
To read ‘Luther and the War in Ukraine – on becoming a theologian of the cross’, click here
To read “Hope comes from believing the promises of God”, click here
To read ‘All’s Well That End’s Well’, click here
To read ‘Looking back to move confidently forward’, click here
To read ‘What becomes of the broken hearted? Sorrowful yet always rejoicing on Palm Sunday’, click here
To read ‘Why do bad things happen to good people? Sorrowful yet always rejoicing on Good Friday’, click here
To read ‘Was it not necessary that the Christ should suffer these things? Rejoicing, though temporarily sorrowful, on Easter Day’, click here.
To read ‘T.S. Eliot, Jesus and the Paradox of the Christian Life’, click here
To read “Suffering- A Personal View”, click here.
To read ‘On the fallen and the felled’, click here
Some musings 