Why is there no more ice cream in my freezer?
Why can I never feel content?
Why do bad things happen to good people?
Why won't the sun shine when we want it to?
Why do people suffer from depression?
Why can't we all just get along?
Why, why, why.....
Remember being the kid everyone hated when you asked your mom "why" every five seconds?
I feel like I haven't changed much from that annoying six-year-old, but instead of asking my mom "why" I'm asking God that question.
Sometimes it's over trivial matters. Other times it's over past experiences I still haven't moved on from. Sometimes it's about other people or situations I see on the news. Other times it's deeply personal, staring at me in the face. Sometimes it's asked out of genuine curiosity. Other times it's asked out of bitterness, anger, and resentment.
I sit in this question of "why" and realize what I'm truly asking.
The question of "why" is probing for a purpose.
The question of "why" is a question of distrust.
The question of "why" battles for control.
The question of "why" feels entitled to an answer.
There is so much more behind this three-letter word than I've realized. Pain and heartache and confusion and doubt are all wrapped up in this simple question.
I wish I could write this article with an upbeat, encouraging conclusion. I wish I could write something like, "But hey - it's okay to just live in the mystery!" or "Just let go and let God!" or "God knows best! He is in control!". It's hard for me to believe these statements right now, though. I would be giving advice I don't even dare to trust for myself.
Because the truth is that I'm still hung up on "why". I can't move on to the truth of who God is until I have fully grieved the "why". And maybe that's okay. Maybe it's okay to mourn over the unmet expectations, the crushing disappointment, and the painful rejection. I can't move forward until I've dealt with what I'm moving forward from.
So I will sit for a little while longer in this pit of "why". It's no fun. It's not a place of sunshine and rainbows. But hopefully it will push me closer and deeper into the arms of the God whose presence is the only answer to my three-letter cry.
