Life with God, at least here and now, is a state of constant tension. The reality of pain, suffering, separation, death, heartache. The reality of joy, comfort, redemption, grace, love. Both, and. At the same time.

I spin from one to the other far too often, from a spiritual high after an inspirational time of prayer or a conversation with a friend where I knew the Holy Spirit's presence, to doubting God's very existence when I hear yet another story of horror–triplets who die at age four of an inherited genetic condition, or children who die in a fire. On the one hand, God's very tangible presence. On the other, where is God?

It brings some comfort to realize that this tension is not new. The Psalmists wrote about it thousands of years ago. I could almost pick a Psalm at random to provide an example because so many of them express the despair that comes with rejection, danger, and evil, and in the next breath express confidence in God's unfailing and relentless redemptive love. Take Psalm 70, for instance:

"Hasten, O God, to save me; O Lord, come quickly to help me.May those who seek my life be put to shame and confusion; may all who desire my ruin be turned back in disgrace.May those who say to me, "Aha! Aha! turn back because of their shame.But may all who seek you rejoice and be glad in you; may those who love your salvation always say, "Let God be exalted!" Yet I am poor and needy; come quickly to me, O God.

You are my help and my deliverer; O Lord, do not delay."

On the one hand, people seek to kill this man. He is desperate, close to ruin, poor and needy. On the other, he is singing God's praises and declaring God "my help and my deliverer." It's almost too much, this disparity between good and evil, this faith in God's love and the terrible deeds reported every day on the front page of the newspaper. Crucifixion. Resurrection.

In the end, the only way to bridge the gap is through faith, a willingness to admit the tension, to grieve and protest injustice and to long for the day when the tension will be past. Jesus cried out on the cross, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" He fully experienced the horror of evil, even though he was innocent of any crime. And yet his cry, from the first line of Psalm 22, also pointed to the hope that would come in the resurrection: "They will proclaim his righteousness to a people yet unborn–for he has done it." Already Jesus' has brought peace, comfort, righteousness, love. Not yet do we realize it fully.

A friend of mine recently told me about a senior thesis by David Kim, in which Kim argued that Hebrews 4, which talks about entering into God's rest, is referring to the day in which we will finally rest from the tension of faith. We have a taste of the rest that will come every time we experience fellowship with God, every time we participate in worship, every time goodness triumphs over evil. Until then, we wait in tension. And we look forward to the day when we will finally see God face to face. When evil is no longer a present reality. When all is well. Then we will rest in God's presence.