Oh Yes He Cares

Frank Graeff was a Methodist minister in the early part of the Twentieth Century. He was, one friend said, “a spiritual optimist.” Some even called him the Sunshine Minister. Graeff was a prolific lyricist, too, writing over 200 hymns. His most famous, though, was anything but cheerful. During a period of intense physical suffering when he felt God had abandoned him, he read a passage toward the end of the Bible – Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you, (1 Peter 5:7). The last four words of the passage inspired the classic hymn, Does Jesus Care?

I don’t know about you, but I spend a lot more time in the first half of that passage – especially around word number four – anxiety. There is a lot to be anxious about these days. For starters, the world’s just a mess. The Middle East is doing what the Middle East has done since dinosaurs roamed the earth. Europe is reeling from yet another terrorist attack. In Russia, they just outlawed evangelism. Seriously. It’s now against the law to even invite someone to an unregistered church. Here at home, we seem more polarized, divided and angry than ever before.

Of course, the national and international turmoil can be tuned out. But the TV remote doesn’t change the channel on our personal struggles. They follow us room to room, day by day. Does Jesus care about them? About your mom’s dementia? Your close friend’s cancer? Your teenager’s gender confusion? Your shaky marriage? Does Jesus care about you?

Oh yes. He cares. How do I know?

Rachel Weeping for Her Children

I know God cares because of the Bible’s raw honesty. Take the story of Rachel’s heartbreaking death, recorded three times in scripture. Genesis 35 gives the historical account. Jacob and his entourage are traveling when Rachel goes into labor. The birth is difficult and she dies within sight of their destination, Bethlehem. With her final breath, Rachel names her baby, Ben-Oni – son of my trouble. Standing over her grave, hearing the cries of his newborn son, I wonder if Jacob remembered the words Rachel spoke to him, through jealous tears, “Give me children or I will die.” He gave her a child, but she died anyway.

Jeremiah 31 provides the prophetic account. There, Rachel’s weeping is a symbol for Israel’s exile. This time, it’s not just the death of one beloved family member – it’s the death of a nation. And Matthew chapter two offers the third account. Rachel becomes a metaphor for the quenchless grief of the mothers whose children Herod slaughtered in an attempt to eliminate a threat to his throne – Jesus.

That’s just one thread of suffering woven through the Bible’s tapestry of sorrow. There are hundreds of others. Joseph trading in his Technicolor dream coat for prison stripes. Job enduring one crushing sorrow after another. Jeremiah the weeping prophet. Dozens of Psalms lamenting burdens too heavy to bear. Even Jesus wept. Before God can care about our sorrow, he has to know it exists. And given the amount of ink spilled in the Bible to describe it, he knows.

If Your Child Asks For A Fish

I know God cares because I do. In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus asked, “Which of you, if your son asks for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake?” The correct answer is – no one would do that. His point was that even sinful humans know how to meet the needs of their children.

They say a mother is only as happy as her saddest child. Since I’m a dad, I can tell you the same is true for fathers. For a parent, the only thing worse than feeling pain, is seeing your child feel pain. In fact, you’d gladly step in between your child and anything that might injure them. You’d take the injection, risk the surgery, endure the chemotherapy, or experience the shame of failure so they didn’t have to. When your son’s heart is broken, your chest aches. When your daughter weeps, you taste her tears. So if sin-challenged human parents respond with empathy for their children’s pain, how much more must God care when you and I are broken by life?

He Did Not Spare His Own Son

Twice this week, I’ve seen sunsets that defied a poet’s description. It’s common to see a group of ducks circling in formation above the pond near our house, cupping their wings to slow their descent and landing on the water with barely a splash. This week, our church welcomed two more children into the world and our community – twins, a boy and a girl born to a godly mom and dad. Evidence of God’s creative love and constant care are all around us.

But if you really want to know he cares, don’t look up at the heavens or around at the world. Look back. You can know he cares because of the cross. He cared so much he did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for you, for me, for us all. When your heart is crushed in some sorrow’s vice, or a sickness redefines physical pain, or grief and loss wash away your well-ordered world, look to the cross.

Oh yes. He cares. I know He cares.