I’ve been thinking a lot regarding the questions that come up after deep suffering. Some think you’re not allowed to even ask questions. I’ve heard people say, “I know we aren’t supposed to question, but I just don’t understand.” I’ve questioned the premise of that. There’s a difference between asking honest, heartfelt questions and having a questioning attitude and disposition to the Lord. In fact, the Bible contains hundreds of examples of people asking questions, complaining to God, and even lamenting the way He has chosen to run the world. Lament is appropriate when what we know about God and what we experience in the world seems to be at odds. Mark Vroegop describes lament as, “…the honest cry of a hurting heart wrestling with the paradox of pain and the promise of God’s goodness.” He argues that refusing to lament, complain, and question can actually hurt the grieving process. He writes, “Finding an explanation or a quick solution for grief, while an admirable goal, can circumvent the opportunity afforded in lament—to give a person permission to wrestle with sorrow instead of rushing to end it. Walking through sorrow without understanding and embracing the God-given song of lament can stunt the grieving process.”

There’s a typical movement within the soul when it comes to questions after suffering a catastrophic loss. What types of questions are common?

  • Why God? Why in the world does this happen at all? Why so much evil within the world? Why would you permit, allow, or ordain something so terrible? It can get more personal rather than philosophical. Will God let the wicked win? Can I trust God to protect me from harm? Can the harm God allows have any good purpose? Will God leave me empty while others are blessed? Will God satisfy my hungers? Will God leave me insolated and alone? Does God love me, or will he turn away in disgust?
  • Why me, God? Why did this happen to me specifically? Did I do something wrong? Why am I being singled out? Why not others? Why did this befall me and my family?
  • Why must I go on without them, God? I am left behind and they have gone on ahead. Why would you not have taken me instead? What is the purpose for why I am still here? What am I to do without them? Where am I to go without them? How can I endure this loss until the end? Did you make a mistake?
  • Why did I not do more, God? What if I had done this instead of that? Could this have been avoided? Did I miss certain signs? Why did this person do “X”? Why were these mistakes made? Did I make a mistake? What if I’ve done wrong? What do we do with the wrong mistakes others have made? What could I have done differently? What do I do with my guilt?
  • Why so tragic, God? Why does life have to be this way? Why not choose to make life less tragic and sad? Why allow the suffering to be prolonged? Why not fix this sooner? Why not step in more directly and prevent this suffering?
  • Why weren’t my prayers answered? Did I not pray enough? Were there not enough people praying? Were our prayers wrong? Did we not have enough faith? Should we have prayed earlier?
  • Why not me, God? Why would I assume I am exempt from the sufferings that everyone else experiences? Why do I think I’m more deserving of comfort and happiness? Why do I think a life of ease is the goal of life?

These types of questions linger. As I’ve reflected upon them, I remind myself of some important truths. First, it is ok to ask the questions of God. Though you read the book and it looks like Job crosses the line many different times, he is commended for his patience and longsuffering in the New Testament (James 5:11). Why? The questions are taken to God. The questions are asked, howled, and hurled at God through prayer. He may doubt God’s goodness, wisdom, and justice but Job never goes as far to say that the evil that befell him was so bad that God didn’t exist at all. The relationship stays open even though it has rough edges. As long as there’s questions being asked, there’s an open line of communication. Questions assume a relationship.

Second, these questions have answers but they may come later. Kim Nolywaika, a fellow bereaved parent, notes, “I firmly believe there is a purpose and explanation for every tragedy; we are not always privy to what they are. But God knows, and that is good enough. I do not believe in accidents and I do not demand explanations; God either causes or allows everything for His purposes; we are simply not capable of seeing the big picture as He sees it. Too often, evil seems to win. We would do things differently and we expect God to treat us better because we have been so devoted, so religious. But that is not how it works. God does not owe us anything.” Someone once said that if we had all of God’s power, we would remake the world very differently. But, if we had all God’s wisdom, the world would be exactly as it is now. There’s answers but they will likely come later. Our job is to trust in the infinite wisdom, goodness, and love of God even though the dark clouds may veil His purposes.

2 responses to “Those Thorny Why Questions”

  1. Thank you for this post. I lost my daughter one year ago and lately I’ve really been struggling with “why”.

    1. I’m sorry, sister. We wait and watch until we are reunited with our children.

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