Ginger Rogers DeMaris has been my sister’s best friend since they were in the second grade. For as long as I can remember, she has been part of our family. There has never been an event, joy, or grief in which G has not played an integral part. I proudly introduce her as my sister because she is, in every respect, one of us.
G makes cakes and beautifully unique centerpieces for anyone in our family getting married. She makes some of the best cookies I’ve ever eaten.
One thing that sets G apart from many of our friends and family is that she possesses minimal filter. She is loud and has never shied away from voicing her opinion.
I know if I’m ever in need, she’ll be there as quickly and surely as my other siblings. She loves Jesus. He has become fundamental to her in the past few years. I love it when she calls me with a question about the Bible. Because we were raised in the same church, she questions many things we grew up believing.
So she calls and asks—and I’d better have a sound biblical response. Breaking away from some aspects of what we’ve believed all our lives is hard. It’s scary. Ofttimes, when we’re talking, I’ll offer a response that categorically differs from our first beliefs. If G feels she’s standing at the edge of a cliff, staring down into blackness, hearing the Lord yell, “Jump! I’ll catch you!” she still asks, “Are you sure?”
I love saying, “Yes, I’m sure.”
Trust me, G’s questions always compel me to be sure. Many times, I have to say, “Let me get back to you on that one.” Then I study before telling her what I believe scripture teaches. It’s a good balance. It’s that iron-sharpens-iron thing.
One of G’s sons is working through his belief in God’s presence, not just in his life but also in the world. He questions whether God cares enough about us to intervene in our lives or even if God has the power to help us at all.
G called me one day with the age-old question that all students of philosophy ask when they want to stymie their opponent. She hit me with a question from her son: “If God is all-powerful, if he is omnipotent, could he make a rock he couldn’t lift?”
Surprised, since I hadn’t heard that question in eons, I figured it was like an internet hoax that keeps resurfacing and just won’t die. I said, “Yes, he can. And drugged travelers wake up to find themselves in motel bathtubs filled with ice and a kidney missing.”
I told G that he’s asking the wrong questions, and I have two responses.
First, everything God does has a purpose. Everything has a plan and serves a God-given reason down to the smallest, most seemingly insignificant speck in the universe.
Proverbs 16:4 (MSG) says, “God made everything with a place and purpose,” and Ecclesiastes 3 tells us emphatically that there is a time for everything, and God is in control of it all. We can choose joy and peace in the midst of life’s adventure. God gives the faith we need to make it through.
The bottom line here is that G’s boy is asking the wrong question. The question is not “Could God create a stone he couldn’t lift?” The question is “Would God create a stone he couldn’t lift?”
Why would he? What would be the purpose? It would be counter to his very nature. And if nothing else, God will always be true to his nature. Being inconsistent in his nature is probably the one thing he can’t do. Malachi 3:6 (NIV) says, “For I the Lord do not change.” Numbers 23:19 (ESV) says, “God is not man, that He should lie, or a son of man, that He should change His mind. Has He said, and will not do it? Or has He spoken, and will He not fulfill it?”
The good news is that God can create a stone as big as he likes. And the even better news? God can lift any stone he chooses to pick up.
Here’s the second part of my response: it seems to me that we mortals are the only ones who create stones we can’t pick up. We build skyscrapers, sculpt statues, and erect monuments, great architectural masterpieces we will never be able to lift with our own hands by our own strength.
And it is we mortals who have built stones the Lord can’t lift.
We have, all humans, picked up stones that seem small and easy to lift, believing we can move them anytime we choose, only to find them far too heavy to free ourselves from. Over time, without our even being fully conscious of it, we can no longer lift them. Resentment, bitterness, anger, drugs or alcohol, fear, shame, pride and self-righteousness, doubt, stress and anxiety, depression, codependency, buried wounds from childhood, hate, envy, dependence on religiosity and haughty principles—the list goes on.
These are just a few of the stones the Lord can’t lift—not until we ask him to. Until we realize the futility of our attempts at moving them. Until we find ourselves buried underneath them, unable to breathe.
I believe that more often than not, people find life more manageable if they can blame-place God for all their problems. They can attempt to minimize his power by asking him to perform a miracle diametrically opposed to his nature, when in fact, this gracious Father is waiting just around the curve of the mountain to move it out of their lives.
That place where we find ourselves is what we recoverers call “rock bottom”: the moment we realize we are buried, crushed beneath the rubble of our sin, and are helpless to move or get out from under it. It’s the moment we realize our lives are out of control, and we have no option but to put pride aside and surrender to the only One who is able to lift the rock and move us into security. It’s a scary, humbling place to be. But the freedom, peace, hope, and expectancy we gain make it eternally easier to keep those pesky little rocks from returning.
It’s about having faith. The Lord even promises to provide us with the confidence we need to believe, even with legitimate questions to God, such as “Did you call it sand because it’s between the sea and the land?” or “How long did it take Jesus to be potty-trained?” or “What exactly were you thinking when you made the avocado pit so big?”
Personally, I almost think that last one is a valid question. I know God has a good reason for everything, but that colossal avocado pit is a waste of functional avocado space, in my opinion. Think how much more avocado there would be if the pit were the size of a mustard seed. Most people have never seen a mustard seed, so this lesson would be much easier if the scripture said, “If you just have faith the size of an avocado seed, you can say to that mountain, ‘Get on outa here,’ and it will be done.” Everyone would say, “Oh yeah. I get it.”
Or, in the context of our story, “How long must I wait for this rock to be lifted?” It’s all about asking the right question. We will, all of us, have rocks that need to be lifted at some point in our lives. Where will you find the strength to be rid of yours? Will you continue asking questions that need no answer? Or will you surrender your pride and will to the One who is waiting to move the mountains for you?
Is this not the fast that I have chosen: To loose the bonds of wickedness, to undo the heavy burdens, to let the oppressed go free, and that you break every yoke?
—Isaiah 58:8 KJV
Cast your burden on the Lord, and He shall sustain you; He shall never permit the righteous to be moved.
—Psalm 55:22 NKJV
For I, the Lord your God, will hold your right hand, saying to you, “Fear not, I will help you.”
—Isaiah 41:13 NIV