SIL - Mar/Apr 2019

Everyday Adventures
The Blame Game
Back in my day, we didn’t have
Shark Week, Sharknado or even viral
Baby Shark videos. All we had
was Jaws, and for a preschooler
taking his first trip to the beach, that was
more than enough to make me petrified of
stepping foot in the ocean.
Jaws premiered in June 1975, the
summer before this Indiana boy first visited
the ocean. My aunt was stationed
in the army in Savannah, and we took a
family road trip to see her and hang out
at the beach. Of course, I was too young
to watch Jaws in the theater, but I’d seen
enough TV commercials to know what
lurked in the deep.
To make matters worse, Jaws fever
was sweeping the nation, which meant
that in the mid-’70s, shark merchandise
was everywhere. I even had the Jaws
game, a more frightening version of Operation.
The goal was to fish random objects
out of the mouth of the great white before
his teeth clamped down on your fishing
pole like a bear trap.
All of this had me primed for fear
the second I stepped foot on the sand. No
way was I going in that water. My mom,
however, had no such reservations. Having
traveled hundreds of miles to the
ocean, she decided to take her life in her
own hands and play in the waves. One of
my earliest memories was watching her
walk off toward the water while I stood
there with my grandma.
I was shark-savvy enough to know
what was coming next and couldn’t believe
no one was doing anything to stop
her. For Pete’s sake, her own mother was
right there and not lifting a finger to save
her from certain doom.
I was indignant. I told my grandma,
“This is all your fault. You let her go in
there. Now, you’re going to have to take
care of me.” It was the only punishment
I could think of to properly express my
outrage. You did this. Now you’re stuck
with me.
Much to my surprise, my mom
didn’t encounter any great whites that
day. In fact, we’ve taken several trips to
the ocean since then and none of us have
yet to be eaten by a shark, though I did
once see some dolphins swimming near
us who looked a little shady.
I did, however, discover another
danger on the sands of that Savannah
beach. It’s my propensity to blame others
for my problems. This is nothing new. Human
beings have been playing the blame
game since the Garden of Eden.
God gave Adam and Eve an entire
world to enjoy, a tropical paradise overflowing
with fulfilling work and adventure.
Yet, like most of us, they wanted the
one thing they couldn’t have, a piece of
forbidden fruit that would, in fact, destroy
them. When confronted by God with their
disobedience, Adam pointed the finger at
Eve and at God himself. He said, “It was
the woman you gave me who gave me the
fruit, and I ate it” (Genesis 3:12 NLT).
Not only did Adam act like a coward
by blaming his wife, he also showed that
he wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed by
blaming God. Eve didn’t do much better,
passing the buck to the serpent to try to
absolve herself of any responsibility.
Since that they day, we have all
played the blame game in one way or another.
Sometimes we blame others for our
poor choices or just the bad things that
happen in our lives. If something is going
wrong, it’s surely someone else’s fault.
There are times, of course, when the
blame is legitimate. People wrong us. Others
cause suffering and hardship in our
lives. Yet, obsessing over it only leads to
bitterness and ends up hurting us more
than it does them. It distracts us from the
choices we can make to heal and move on.
Then there are other times, the times
when we can’t find anyone to blame, and
we end up blaming God. When a senseless
tragedy occurs, we wonder why God
didn’t prevent it. How could a good God
let something like that happen?
Why wouldn’t God do something
about all the pain and suffering in the
world?
That’s a valid question, and honestly
it’s one that’s tough to answer this side
of heaven. Unless, of course, we remember,
that God did do something to put
things right. He became a man, stepped
I was shark-savvy enough to know what was
coming next and couldn’t believe no one was
doing anything to stop her. For Pete’s sake,
her own mother was right there and not lifting
a finger to save her from certain doom.
into this brutal, broken world, and died
on a cross to make a way for the entire
universe to someday be restored to a place
of goodness, love and peace.
But, in the meantime, it can be hard
to trust God when things happen that we
don’t understand. Last year, I had been
praying for a family member who had
had a string of bad luck. If God would just
change this one circumstance, I thought,
they could finally catch a break. I prayed
repeatedly, but the situation went the
other way. Though I’m usually quick to
trust God, this time I didn’t. I said, “Really
God? This would have been so easy
for you to do.”
I was mad, so I blamed God. What
kind of friend was he? He clearly has the
power to help someone I loved, but he
didn’t do it. Thanks, I prayed. Thanks a
lot.
Moments later, I realized how dumb
I sounded. God has come through for me
so many times in the past, how I could I
not trust him? I also remembered that
there is evil at work in the world and
sometimes bad things happen because of
that. Finally, I reminded myself that this
one circumstance wasn’t the end of the
story, just a chapter. God is still writing
the ending, and based on his track record,
I believe it’s going to be a good one. •
Jason Byerly is a writer, pastor, husband and
dad who loves the quirky surprises God sends
his way every day. You can catch up with Jason
on his blog at www.jasonbyerly.com or on
Twitter at www.twitter.com/jasondbyerly.
Mar/Apr 2019 • 46