he deadly tidal wave that rolled out from the coasts of Sumatra on December 26, 2004, swept away more than houses, lives, and livelihood. Months later the questions it raises still haunt humanity.

I was vacationing abroad with family when the news broke. Curious at first at reports of deaths in the thousands, we soon became transfixed by the images coming in from the nonstop coverage provided by the BBC and CNN. As the toll of human life continued to mount-at last count it had topped 200,000-so did the stories of incredible loss and incredible suffering.

We had such a happy Christmas together. Now, this! Suddenly families had been torn asunder, wiped out. The season of "peace on earth, goodwill toward men" had turned into a horror movie. After a couple of days of viewing the ghastly scenes-all those little bodies lined up on the sand, all those faces contorted in grief-I couldn't stand to see any more.

Very soon the questions began to be voiced in the press, but already they had risen in the hearts of people of all faiths. What is the meaning of this horror? Where was God? Why did one child die and another survive?

Most of the answers were lame. Some were naive. Some were disgusting. "It's all because of karma"-from a Hindu commentator. "It's God's judgment, calling us to repentance"-from a spokesperson for Christianity.

Among some Adventists, trite responses. "It's God's will." "God will bring good out of it." "He wants to teach us lessons from it."

Answers that reassure if one is comfortable, safe, and secure. But, I suspect, answers that don't cut it for the hundreds of thousands whose hearts are breaking, or the millions displaced and dispossessed by the tsunami.

At a time like this, the less said the better. Beware of pat answers. Beware of putting words in the mouth of God.

The book of Job teaches us the folly of conventional wisdom in the teeth of overwhelming suffering. Further, the folly of presuming to speak for God.

Let us face the grim reality: tragedy defies rational explanation. Suffering cannot be alleviated by philosophy or theology.

The biblical answer to suffering isn't an "answer" at all. It is an experiential response: the answer provided by a friend who sits by the side of the sufferer and doesn't say a word.

In the book of Job, God at last speaks. His answer isn't an explanation or series of explanations; it is God Himself. God doesn't draw back the curtains and let Job in on the big picture that the reader knows from the first two chapters; God simply comes to Job. And that is enough. God is the answer.

For followers of Jesus Christ, this insight reaches infinitely greater depth. Jesus never attempted to solve the problem of suffering, even when asked about it point-blank by His disciples (John 9:1-5; compare Luke 13:1-5). Jesus gave us something far greater: He identified with our suffering. He took upon Himself a body like ours; He entered into our pain, heartache, and woe; and at last He died an agonizing, God-forsaken death.

"During the days of Jesus' life on earth, he offered up prayers and petitions with loud cries and tears to the one who could save him from death. . . . Although he was a son, he learned obedience from what he suffered," the writer to the Hebrews tells us (Heb. 5:7, 8, NIV).

The book of Job helps us cope with suffering, but without the revelation of God and His will provided by Jesus Christ, I wonder if it would be sufficient for the tragedy of the Christmas tsunami. From the life, death, resurrection, and teachings of Jesus I get the anchors that hold me in place through the winds and the water: