When Bad Things Happen

Scripture: Luke 13:1-9

Shakespeare may have thought “To be or not to be” was the question that preoccupied humanity – certainly was what preoccupied Hamlet, but I’d argue that “Why do bad things happen to good people” is right up there with questions that weigh heavily on our mind.

When people ask me that question, Luke 13 is exactly where I go. In this passage we see that the disciples were keenly aware of both the evils perpetuated by humanity – such as Pilate mingling the blood of a group of Galileean pilgrims with his pagan sacrifices, as well as the random acts of nature, like the tower of Siloam that fell and killed eighteen hapless Jews.

The disciples ask the question: Why do these things happen? What have they done to deserve that?

And that’s a question we tend to ask a lot of the time as well. I know I have. There have been times in my life when things have happened and I’ve asked God, “What did I do to deserve this?” Admittedly, the things in my life that I cry out about are puny in comparison to other people.

And a lot of times – people have legitimate gripes. Just like Job had a legitimate gripe when he wanted to know why it was he’d lost his family, his home, and was afflicted with boils. Job had a legitimate reason to cry out to God and go “WHY? I don’t deserve this!”

And there are many of you out there who I know have had that same lament – that lament of “Why God? What did I do to deserve this?” What did the people of Haiti do to deserve their earthquake? What did the people of Chile do?

We want to ascribe blame somewhere. And when we hear all the time “if you do right, things will go well for you,” we have to wonder – why is that not the case all the time? Why is it someone who lives a godly life can be dumped on just like someone who doesn’t?

The book of Ecclesiastes noted this problem as well: “The wise man has eyes in his head, while the fool walks in the darkness; but I came to realize that the same fate overtakes them both.”

And let’s face it – even Jesus’ answer here seems difficult to accept. He says these victims had done nothing any worse than anyone else. Nothing specific to deserve this calamity that had befallen them.

You would think, though, that these events might allow Jesus an opportunity to defend God against charges of mismanaging the universe. But he does not go that route. Jesus only implies that we must not equate tragedy with divine punishment. Sin does not make atrocities come, and good deeds doesn’t ward them off. They just come.

Christians are often uncomfortable with ambiguity, we don’t like hearing “I don’t know.” We should know. We should have those answers. So we often concoct and try to rationalize our own reasons to explain things. Like it’s somehow all part of God’s plan. But Jesus disturbs us by not giving us an out – by not giving us an answer – by not defending God’s actions.

Instead – he engages in what we would probably call really bad pastoral care. He offers no comfort, no reason, and instead, he turns the question around on the people asking the question, saying no, they weren’t any better or any worse… but where are YOU in your spiritual life right now?

Instead of comfort, Jesus reminds us that life is fragile, that it is unfair, and that it is fleeting, and his message is urgent. Jesus turns attention away from disasters, victims, and "why?" questions to address those of us who thus far have survived the hazards of the universe and human society. Jesus’ point: We should not mistake our good fortune as evidence of God's special blessing or approval.

But rather, Jesus shifts the focus to remind us that in the face of these tragedies – those who survive them should seek God and repent. As Paul writes, that “no one is without sin, No, not even one.”

Jesus does not promise freedom from calamity, but urges his hearers against false self-assurances. That our world is dangerous and we still live under the influence of sin and death. So instead of taking the opportunity to offer us comfort and placate our fears – Jesus instead only heightens them.

If such things “just happen” to anyone – that means no one is immune. That means we are not secure in this life. It shakes us – reminding us that just because we dodged a bullet this time – next time, we may not be so lucky.

So Jesus tells us to “repent.” And by repentance we are referring to a changed mind, to a new way of seeing things, to being persuaded to adopt a different perspective, of re-orienting one’s perspective and life.

This new way of seeing things. Rather than saying “I deserve better” Jesus wants to highlight that actually, no – in God’s sight, because of our sin, we in fact deserve nothing. Whatever we have is a gift of mercy. In the midst of that mercy, sometimes bad things happen to people who are only “minor sinners” and nothing happens to “big sinners.” Jesus wants us to instead of looking at other people’s levels of sin – to look at the “plank in their own eye” for a moment. To acknowledge our own shortcomings. And when I say we need to acknowledge our shortcomings, I’m not talking about giving some glib “Oh, I know I sin, who doesn’t?” But a true, heartfelt confession of the things in one’s life that we know bring us under God’s judgment.

And if you’re feeling a bit uncomfortable right now – like this message is a little too “law” driven for your tastes – that’s good. That’s what this passage was designed to do. That was what Jesus intended for people to feel. He wants people to take a long a hard look at themselves. To not measure their worthiness in relationship to one another, but in relationship to God.

You may be doing better than the next guy – but how are you doing in relation to God? Are you “perfect like your father in heaven is perfect”? That’s the standard, after all. The standard that each and every one of us fall woefully short of. And we use these passages during the season of Lent to MAKE us do a bit of introspection and examination of ourselves and our lives. To remind us how SERIOUSLY God takes this issue of sin. How totally unacceptable sin is to God.

So in Jesus’ call for repentance, we hear the words of our Old Testament passage for today coming to bear as well:

Seek the Lord while he may be found, call upon him while he is near; 7 let the wicked forsake their way, and the unrighteous their thoughts; let them return to the Lord, that he may have mercy on them, and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon. 8 For my thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways, says the Lord. 9 For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.

Indeed. God’s thoughts are not our thoughts. His ways are not our ways. We demand answers, he gives only Himself as an answer. We say we deserve good things, God says good things are gift.

But if life's fragility and uncertainty demands urgency, that urgency shows that life has carved out opportunity for us to seize God's graciousness – that hope is not lost. To not despair in the midst of our sinfulness. That repentance is still possible. That seeking the Lord is still open to us. To make this point, Jesus launches immediately into the parable about the fig tree.  

The parable speaks of imminent judgment – that destruction is about to come upon the fig tree because it is not doing what it’s supposed to be doing. We are keenly reminded how earlier in Luke the religious leaders were warned that the axe was at the root of the tree, ready to cut it down.

This parable reinforces ideas from the first half of this passage. A cultivated yet unproductive tree may continue to live even without bearing fruit, but it survives ONLY because it has been granted additional time to do what it is supposed to do.

It reminds us… We live for one reason and one reason only – by God’s mercy. God mercifully granted Adam and Eve to live far beyond the time God had originally allotted – for to eat from the tree of Knowledge he said would bring instant death. But God had mercy and allowed them to live a long life and have children before carrying out his judgment on their sin.

Like Jesus' earlier words in response to the tragedies, the parable warns against false reassurance. Just because you have not been cut down, do not presume that means you are bearing fruit.

The parable emphasizes that patience and mercy temporarily keep judgment at bay. The role of the gardener offers a crucial characterization of this patience and mercy. The tree has not been left to its own devices. Everything possible is being done to get it to act as it should. Everything is being poured out in order to change the outcome of this fig tree.

Correspondingly, God does not leave people to their own resources and devices but encourages their repentance by giving them the fertilizer and the water and the tender love and care to help them bear fruit. Paul describes that fruit as: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.

He gives us – in essence – Jesus. He gives us a promise, he gives us assurance, he gives us love in the hope that this will spur us to likewise give these things to others.

So while Jesus' words about judgment and repentance are scary, they also depict human life as a gift, albeit a fragile one. Vulnerable creatures that we are, we can presume little and do little to preserve ourselves. But the fig tree and the gardener reminds us of the grace that is extended willingly. Forgiveness for not bearing fruit, but expecting that forgiveness will spur us to action.

That God transforms us through that grace, cultivates us through that grace, a grace that calls us to be generous toward those still trapped under the weight of poverty, want, and devastation of all kinds. A grace that reminds us what lengths God is willing to go to in order to see to it we produce fruit.

In this season of lent, we are reminded again of that radical grace God extends to us, of that radical grace we find in the person of Jesus Christ. While death is still God’s judgment on sin – death – is not the final word. Because someone came in our stead – to suffer that death along with us in order to offer us the hope and assurance of new life.