"Disappointment with God" by Philip Yancey

There were times I picked up this book and felt a surge of guilt that it was on my nightstand.  How could a book titled, "Disappointment with God" be found in a home with four healthy people and hallways full of laughter, dancing?  So why would I purchase this book during this joyous season of life, devour it while waiting in lines, highlight it with the stray crayons in my purse?  Because the book poses three questions I've asked before.  Questions that make me a little uncomfortable.  Questions that are always in the back of my mind when talking to friends and family in the midst of great loss, crisis, disappointment.  "Is God unfair?"  "Is He silent?"  "Is He hidden?"

The book begins with Richard's story, a  young seminary student who experiences numerous disappointments in his personal life that cause him to seriously question his faith.  His disappointment in God is summed up in the three questions, "Is God unfair?  Silent?  Hidden?"  In response to Richard's crisis of faith, Yancey read the Bible front to back, searching for answers.

In the 1st half of Disappointment with God Yancey gives us an insightful look into scripture's answer to these three questions.  He highlights the times God was quite fair, giving His people (the Israelites) over to their just desserts, and the times he was audible and in full view (i.e. parting of the Red Sea, pillar of cloud in the desert, etc.) Yet oddly enough these great acts of visibility and justice did little to nourish the faith of the Israelites but rather caused them to be somewhat demanding and fickle.  Using scripture, Yancey compares God's response to their flightiness to that of a wounded lover alternating between words of rage and cries of pain.  In order to woo us into authentic love and true discipleship, Christ humbly took human form.  Yancey borrows a story by Kierkegaard of a king courting a humble maiden to illustrate this descent.  Christ, like the king of the story, came to us on our level, thereby calling us into a deeper relationship, based not just on signs but on a personal relationship with our Saviour.

I enjoyed the 1st half of the book immensely.  Of long lasting impression were Yancey's illustration of God the Father as a wounded lover, his use of Kierkegaard's story of the king, and the quote from Buechner in chapter 13 (this quote forever changed my view of the infant Christ!).

The 2nd half of the book takes on a new focus with Job, the ancient man who asked the very same questions Yancey posed at the beginning of the book.  Yancey tackles the problem of pain and tragedy in greater depth in the second half of the book.  He sites numerous modern day believers who experienced great loss and suffering and how through that suffering they were able to keep their faith while answering the three questions: Is God unfair?  silent?  hidden?

Now eight months after completing this book I am still able to recall several of these poignant stories.  One takes the form of a letter written by a mother who just lost her second child to cystic fibrosis.  This letter is refreshing in its honesty, beautiful in its statements of faith. 

As I turned the last few pages of this book I felt a strong sense of conviction and humility in the call to be God's hands and feet here on Earth, making Him more visible to those in pain.  I finished with a longing for heaven where all will be made right.  I closed the last page hoping to exhibit faith not dependent on the circumstances in my life.  Faith as described in this quote by Yancey:

     "That, I believe, is also what faith sometimes requires: trusting God when there is no apparent evidence of him - as Job did.  Trusting in his ultimate goodness, a goodness that exists outside of time, a goodness that time has not yet caught up with. (p. 224)"

I wish for you my family and friends to pick up this book, open God's Bible, and come away assured of God's goodness, longing for Him in a new way.  That is how I left this book.  This book is a safe place for those frozen with doubt, a tender resting spot for hearts pierced with pain.  As  you read those last five pages, hold a Kleenex in your hand as tears will surely stream down your face while you read Yancey's very personal story of love and loss.  May you conclude your reading with the assurance that, "faith is, in the end, a kind of homesickness - for a home we have never visited but have never once stopped longing for. (Yancey, p.276)"

{book image via here}