"Where Is God In This?"

"No matter what happens remember this: I have always loved you."

Papa, The Shack

“Hello?” …  “Eh?” …

I couldn’t tell how long I had been asleep, but I assumed it was morning.  Almost time to wake up.  I rolled over to see who Joseph was talking to.  

“My God.” 

My heart started to race.  

“What?” I asked, patting his arm.  My mind went to the worst.  A staff member had died.  Or family member.  Something had happened to a student. 

“What?”  I asked again.  “What happened?”

…

“Ok.  Asante.”  

He hung up and turned to me, “Magufuli is dead.” 

John Magufuli, Tanzania’s fifth president, was rumored to have been in a Kenyan hospital last week, suffering from COVID, but the rumors were never confirmed by the government.  Now, at eleven thirty at night, the Vice President Samia Suluhu solemnly announced that he had indeed died in a Kenyan hospital, from heart failure at the age of 61. 

“Oh my God.” We both said over and over again as we scrolled through Facebook and WhatsApp, which were both flooded with video clips of the Vice President and photos of Magufuli with the caption “R.I.P” and “God loved you more”.  After an hour or so of reading posts and discussing what this might mean for the country, I fell back asleep.  But Joseph couldn’t. 

The next morning I found him on the couch watching the news.  He kept remarking how shocking it was, how this had never happened to a sitting president in Tanzania.  He told me that all night he could hear people crying around the campus and in the neighboring houses.    

The school bus arrived as usual and the school day started (it was the first day of midterm exams), but you could see the shock on the staff members faces as they moved from class to class.  While the younger students laughed and played, oblivious to what was going on, the older students were obviously affected.  I entered the class and greeted them as I always do, “Good morning standard seven.  How are you?” but instead of their usual positive response, they replied, “We are not fine.”  

The day was a blur of exams and news updates. The Vice President would be appointed as new President, making her the first female president in Tanzanian history, and the most powerful female leader in all of Africa.  Social media started shifting from posts of mourning to posts of congratulations and well wishes for “Mama Samia”.  

On Friday, the government released official plans to lay President Magufuli to rest.  The country would observe a national holiday today, Monday, as a final viewing of the body would be held in the capital city, and again on Thursday for the day of burial.  This news spread excitement around the campus because it meant the students’ midterm break would begin two days early.  But for many others, it meant spending the day glued to the television, watching the ceremonies unfold.  One of the teachers even set up a TV in the dining hall early this morning so that the students could watch throughout the day.

Friday evening, during our weekly dinner out, the restaurant had the news playing on all of its TVs instead of the usual football game or music videos.  We couldn’t help but watch as pictures of Magufuli and Suluhu scrolled across the screen and different commentators discussed the sudden loss and their hopes for the new president.  At some point during our dinner we started discussing last Easter and how different it would be this year.  Joseph remembered that he had celebrated at KEMPS with Teacher Kalokola, Madam Peace, and Emma, the only ones who remained when the school closed due to COVID.  It was just a few months later than Emma had passed away.  I saw sadness flash across his face as he remembered his friend.  He shook his head and covered his eyes as he took a deep breath.  

“It’s just not fair.  They didn’t get enough time.  They had more to do here and now they’re gone.”

I took his hand.  “I know.  It isn’t fair.”  

Back in February I read The Shack for the first time.  I had seen the movie, so I knew what I was getting into, but I was so captured by the conversations that Mack has with God “Papa” in the book.  As Mack grieved the loss of his daughter, he lashed out at God, questioning why He would allow her to be taken away, that she was so young, she had so much life left to live.  Papa explains to Mack the gift of free will that He gave to mankind, and the complexity and brokenness that comes from that gift.  While I learned a long time ago that God doesn’t cause his people pain, in the book, this idea of mankind’s brokenness and God’s role in our grief was explained in such a clear and loving way that stuck with me differently. 

I had told Joseph a little bit about the book when I finished it, but as I watched him searching for some kind of explanation for such sudden and tragic loss, I found myself bringing up The Shack again.  We talked about the fragility of life and all the ways that you tell yourself you want to live after experiencing death.  Joseph did a lot of nodding and head shaking.  The waiter came out of the kitchen with our dinner and Joseph took one more big breath.  “It’s a lot.”  

It’s easy to remember how precious our days on earth are when someone we love has just had their last.  

It’s harder to remember when our days on earth are hard.  When they wear us down and seem to suck the life out of us.  When we don’t have enough money to pay our bills or when we’re working so hard but can’t seem to get ahead.  Those days when we find ourselves asking God a different, but just as desperate, “why?”.

One of the most impactful things I read in The Shack is when Papa says to Mack, 

“When all you can see is your pain, perhaps then you lose sight of me?” 

It reminded me of what my mom always says when I am in the deepest depths of a pity party, feeling absolutely sorry for myself and at a total loss of positivity.  She says, “Where is God in this?”

Most of the time I don’t want to hear it, because on those bad days when I have totally succumbed to the darkness, I don’t want to look for the light.  But it’s still there. 

Just as Papa reminded Mack over and over again, “I was right there with you.  I never left you.”  

God’s goodness and grace gives a light that no darkness can ever overcome.  Not the darkness of bills or work or sickness or even death.  His light shines through.  We have to be willing to find the light amidst the darkness.

Mungu akubariki,

Allee

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Alison Gomulka

15601 Shady Brook Lane

College Station, TX 77845 

One of many examples of "the light" in my life.