Why did Donald Trump survive two assassination attempts while others were harmed, including a man who was killed by the same would-be assassin who wounded Trump at a Pennsylvania rally? In his debut book, Is It God’s Will? Making Sense of Tragedy, Luck, and Hope in a World Gone Wrong (Morehouse, Sept.), theologian Brandon Ambrosino explores reactions to tragedy, the process of grieving, and the true nature of God (Morehouse, Sept.). Through a careful study of scripture and theology, the former journalist for Vox and Politico considers these issues and how faith can provide hope for the heartbroken.
How did his book come about?
Carl Bromley, my editor, read an essay I wrote for the Christian Century called “Did God Save Donald Trump's Life?” I had just started writing for the Century, and Carl had just joined Church Publishing. He said, “I think there's a whole book in this essay.” Then, as far as the theology, the big questions—is God calling the shots, choosing to save Donald Trump in a way that gets somebody else murdered?—these kinds of thoughts have always been swirling around in my head. I grew up Pentecostal. There's a lot of evangelical theology there, and I've always been interested in how theology is being done in the public square.
The book encourages readers to embrace having more questions than answers when it comes to their faith, and in it, you write about “being comfortable in the basement,” the places where disturbing questions lurk. Can you explain?
We usually prefer to be on the first and second floors, in a nice parlor, lounging on a lovely chaise, but when you go into the basement, there are the kinds of questions like, “Why, if God can stop a murderer's bullet, is any child in Philly being killed in a drive-by shooting? Where is God then?” And so it’s these questions that are uncomfortable, and in the popular imagination, they’re not really being dealt with. But Christian tradition has always dealt with them, so I wanted to try and make that tradition accessible to people.
Why does it comfort some to view tragedy as part of God’s will?
I think it’s easier for people to believe that someone is calling the shots, even if they’re bad shots. The idea of randomness or luck terrifies people.
Who is the intended audience for this book?
People who aren’t totally satisfied by the easy answers about God from church or religious services, who want to dig deeper or join me in the basement. I wrote it for normal people who are trying to deal with their anxieties and make it through the day—those whose husbands drop dead or who get a cancer diagnosis—anybody who’s thought, “Where is God? And how do I even ask that question?” That's who this book is for.
What comforts can you share about the God you’ve come to know, especially for those struggling with tragedy or loss?
God has his eye on the lowly of the earth, and God is the God of the orphans and widows. Jesus came to represent people who are suffering from misfortune, people who are unlucky, and people who have had the rug pulled right out from under them. My Christian faith tells me God sees those people.
If God is not intervening to prevent suffering or disaster, what does God do?
God is not a puppet master. God is not behind the curtain pulling the strings. God is not calling all the shots. God does not really care who the president is; there are bigger fish to fry. So, what is the event that goes by the name of God? Well, it’s a provocation to hope. This is a pretty hopeless world. We have a lot of reasons to despair. To me, hope does not organically emerge from situations of hopelessness. Hope has to be provoked, and I think that is what God does. God is the provoking force to remind us to hope. God hopes that we hope, and when we hope, God happens.
What is the most important takeaway you want readers to have from the book?
Christian faith does not depend on God knowing everything in advance, and God doing everything he wants. Christian faith is based on the conviction that on Jesus’s cross, God revealed himself as he truly is. That revelation put death to shame.
