ctually, there are two problems with miracles. The first is that it's hard to tell the difference between a miracle and a coincidence. A commuter flight goes down, killing half the passengers; how many were saved miraculously, and how many were saved because they were sitting in the "right" section of the plane?

Certainly those who survive such a tragedy consider the outcome miraculous; they might even give God the credit for His supernatural intervention on their behalf. But that gives rise to the second (greater) problem with miracles: Why does God not miraculously preserve everyone's life? And to raise the stakes even higher, why do believers lose their lives alongside—even instead of—sinners?

Be careful how you answer. For millennia believers have sought to justify, or at least explain, God's behavior, and describe in terms we all understand why God does what He does. May I suggest that this side of eternity some things just defy explanation?

Last year's terrorist attacks in New York City and Washington, D.C., resulted in dozens of reports about people who were "miraculously" spared from the destruction that flattened the World Trade Center and scarred the Pentagon. Yet we were also grieved to learn that several Seventh-day Adventists, valued members of their congregations and communities, lost their lives (for one, it was his first day on the job). Although thousands were "miraculously" spared, nearly 3,000 families had to endure the thought of their loved ones dying in fiery destruction.

We can no more explain why some survived and some didn't than we can explain how or why God does anything He does (although that hasn't kept a fair number of armchair theologians from trying).

The fact of the matter is that God is not a problem to be solved; He is a mystery to be experienced. Anyone who attempts to explain definitively God's sovereignty, who He is, or why He does what He does needs to get a grip on reality.

There are things about God we can know. Our lives testify to some basic truths about God that are reflected in Scripture. We know that He's a God of love (1 John 4:16), that He is all powerful and all-wise (Jer. 32:27; Job 9:7), that He is at the same time merciful and just (Ex. 33:19), that He offers to save all who come to Him in faith (Rom. 5:8).

We also know that we are involved in a titanic struggle between good and evil, between God and Satan (Rev. 12:17). The challenge for today's Christians is not that we unravel the mystery that surrounds God, but that we realize that our knowledge about God is limited; that we will not, on the strength of our convictions, take matters into our own hands and fly planes into buildings, murder abortion providers, or work to limit the freedom of any beings created in God's image.

When Moses went to investigate the burning bush in the wilderness, he was told, "Do not come any closer. . . . Take off your sandals, for the place where you are standing is holy ground" (Ex. 3:5, NIV). Naturally, Moses was curious. What could he tell his friends back in Egypt if he couldn't explain the miracle of a bush that burned without being consumed?

But God didn't give Moses a ministry of explanation, but a ministry of proclamation: "I am sending you . . . to bring my people . . . out of Egypt," said the Almighty (verse 10).

Let's be careful how we celebrate miracles. There are times God does things that truly defy explanation. Let His name be praised.

But not everyone survives a terminal illness or an automobile accident; not every lost child (tool, dog, wallet, watch) is found. Let's not blame God (nor should we blame it on a believer's "lack of faith").

Let's realize, instead, that in the great struggle between good and evil God calls us to faithfulness. We're called to be faithful when the path is plain, also when the path is hard to follow. Although there are lots of things I can't understand, I've come to the point in my own spiritual pilgrimage where I can say with Job (even if it's sometimes painful): "Though he slay me, yet will I hope in him" (Job 13:15, NIV).

I understand that much.

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Steve Chavez is managing editor of the Adventist Review.