I sat in my office chair in silence for a while. I’m not sure how long. Just staring down at my desk and thinking of the phone conversation I had just experienced. A family in our church just received the news that their four-year-old son had leukemia. I spoke to the father, who sounded stronger than I did. I offered words that hopefully encouraged and offered support and prayer. Yet as I sat there replaying the conversation over again, I wondered if I could have said more. Something different or better or more pastor-like.
I wasn’t sure.
This family—a family of four, a young family, with so much to offer and such a joy to be around—didn’t deserve this news. Obviously things happened and you couldn’t control them. Yet I was asking the question the man had never brought up during our conversation.
Why, God?
I glanced at the small item sitting on my desk right there in front of me. I picked it up and studied it.
Why . . .
I believed in the cross and believed in the words I had spoken yesterday. Yet time and time again, I didn’t understand the whys that wandered around in this world.
For a moment, I stared across the room to where a bookcase stood. On the side of the middle shelf sat a frame without a photo. It had been a gift from Grace that I still didn’t have the heart to take down. She had given it to me at a time when we were trying and praying and hoping.
The top of the frame said four haunting words:
I swallowed and then thought of the Babiaks with their two boys. Why would God bless them with children and then suddenly allow this? I had the words a pastor could say to a parent and I had uttered them all, but I still didn’t understand. I wanted God to show me why.
I had long ago come to the realization that the picture frame would never be filled, yet I still wondered why.
Verses from Job filled my head. I knew the Book of Job well. I certainly couldn’t relate to this man who lost everything. Yet I still understood a little about loss.
“Who is this that questions my wisdom with such ignorant words? Brace yourself like a man because I have some questions for you, and you must answer them.”
God answered Job’s questions—much like the questions that often filled my heart like they did now—by asking Job a series of things nobody could answer.
In the end, Job was simply left to fall to his knees in forgiveness and shame.
“I was talking about things I knew nothing about, things far too wonderful for me.”
I knew the Bible and I believed in the message and the hope inside it. I believed in the cross I was holding and what happened on it.
If you believe that truth, then let your actions show it.
I had been sitting there with questions, with hurt, with wonder. What I wasn’t doing in my chair was praying and thanking God for His love and care over us. I wasn’t giving this over to the Lord even though I had just tried to rally the troops with a message saying to do that very thing.
“Forgive me, Lord. Forgive my failures and my doubt. You oversee everything. Nothing happens without you allowing it. You know this young boy and you’re watching over him and you know every single thing about him. Heal him, Jesus. Be with him. Be with his parents and his brother. Give them all unnatural strength. Bless him today, and bless the road ahead. I pray it’s a long road, full of miracles and grace. I pray that the cross is present in their lives today and tomorrow. I pray that for myself, too.”
These prayers were always and only prayed in Jesus Christ’s name. He was the one who allowed them to be prayed, who took them and put them before his Heavenly father.
I couldn’t question. I didn’t have the right to. But I could ask for mercy and grace so I did. Yet again.