Devotion 323 - why

She asks me with tears in her eyes, “Why does a loving God allow me to hurt this bad?”

Oh dear sister, could you not have asked your pastor, or your teacher or someone, anyone a whole lot wiser than me.

The fact is I simply do not know.  And to be honest, I am always a little afraid of whys.  My 5-year old makes it her livelihood to ask WHY.  I tend to answer the question with a question but for my friend, for my suffering, teary eyed friend this simply will not do.  No, I have to find an answer.  I stumble and I falter.

I want to take her pain and compare it to my own, but I am not sure at any time in my life I have hurt like she is.  I am not sure I have any answers at all.   It’s scary.

Any smart person would just listen.  But I am not any smart person.    I am the person that wants answers and I demand of myself to have them even if they are wrong.

My youngest daughter, I am slowly learning is much the same way.  I listen to her questions.  I listen well.  But this is my fourth round with inquisition.  With my first two I was absolutely sure I would stunt their growth if I didn't have answers for everything. With my girls, I grew in wisdom realizing wisdom is often more than I can muster at any given moment of the day.  Often, perhaps more often than I should, I answer their questions with questions.

It was just one day after I had sat with my crying friend.  I heard my baby daughter fly down the stairs crying and fearful.  This is extremely unusual for her.  In the almost three years I have loved her I have known her fearful only a handful of times.  Fear has come in the movie theater and with the “bad guy.”  She has yet to let me forget not warning her of the ice monster in Frozen.

She pleaded with me to go upstairs.  I glanced at her older sister who had just helped her with pajamas.  Lily indicated something was “flying” in Ava’s room.  We have barely had twenty minutes of warm weather to attract anything flying but I held Ava’s hands and we approached the dreaded monster.  We found nothing.  Soon we were lying in bed reading when Ava announced, “THERE HE IS.”

There above us on the ceiling was the tiniest of spiders.  I was relatively sure the little guy was not capable of flying but calling on my German ancestry, I assured Ava this was a sign of a blessing.  A spider at least at Christmas in the German home is a celebrated sign of welcome and good things to come.  Ava raised her brow at me as if I had made the entire thing up but it did seem to calm her nerves. 

The very next morning we sat at the breakfast table and Ava’s spider came up in conversation.  Ava asked why a spider was in our home.  Again not daunted by the why, I simply asked why she would be afraid of such a tiny creature.  Ava not missing a beat told me spiders chew the toes of little girls. 

We all stopped mid orange juice.  I looked around the table wondering which sibling had originated this little gem.  They all seemed as shocked as Brian and I were.  I asked who had told her of these toe eating spiders.  Ava smiled and said, “My Jesus.”

I have given Jesus credit for a million things in the moments I have had to explain the time-space continuum and why frogs are green and why stars twinkle and children tinkle, but I have never given Him credit for toe eating spiders.

I started to think about Why.

My friend, my precious hurting friend, for whom I labor in prayer, wants to know why.

But perhaps the loving Father is asking her a question with a question.  Perhaps His answers hold secrets that are too big and too beautiful and too majestic for His children.

  

His very son asked "why?"  I think it's very okay if we do as well.  Would we really be able to fathom all the answers to all our questions if He poured them out like dew in the morning?

What if we woke with wisdom and knew why a joint ached, or why our dear friend suffered or evil people gun down innocent children. 

What if we could hear Him answer with questions as we asked why…

What if a voice whispered…

“Do you know I am here?

Can you hold on and believe we, together, will get through this?

Will you let me carry you?

The end is so worth it, will you trust Me beloved?”

Is part of the journey the quest to believe, to truly believe down to our toes, that His purposes are Holy and that our end is our beginning?

Is part of this puzzle called life rejoicing with some pieces and grieving with others, but not insisting they all fit together?

Is part of our love affair with the Master the mystery of unanswered questions?

Then Job answered the Lord and said:

 “I know that you can do all things,
    and that no purpose of yours can be thwarted.
‘Who is this that hides counsel without knowledge?’
Therefore I have uttered what I did not understand,
    things too wonderful for me, which I did not know.
‘Hear, and I will speak;
    I will question you, and you make it known to me.’
 I had heard of you by the hearing of the ear,
    but now my eye sees you;
therefore I despise myself,
    and repent in dust and ashes.”   Job 42:  1-6