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Why?


Why? For parents of pre-schoolers, it’s the most vexing of questions. For those in the throes of the mercurial challenges of life, it’s the most perplexing.

There is no sufficient or reasonable rationale for why bad things happen to good people, or for why fate smiles upon those who seem to thrive on exploitation of others.

There’s no rational explanation for why some moms and dads are blessed with copious numbers of healthy children, while other would-be parents are denied even one. Or why one person lives to be 100, outliving everyone they know by twenty years, while a young child dies in a tragic accident.

Why does a tornado bear down on one block while leaving the next untouched? Why, for that matter, is one baby born into poverty and another into affluence? And why do the squeaky wheels always get the grease while the quiet ones—no less in need of lubrication—are totally ignored?

It’s tempting to attribute another’s misfortune (or your own good fortune) to fate or karma when you’re sitting on the positive side of life’s balance, but once you’ve been thrust into the pit of hardship and loss, you begin to realize that why is immaterial.

I’ve relied upon faith in the darkest moments of my life and, while it’s never offered definitive answers, this much I know: our struggles on earth are not meant to paralyze us in a state of anger or fear, but to draw us closer to God.

Suffering is part of the human experience, but the tendency to demand a final answer to the question of why magnifies our misery. Our internal investigation usually results in a downward spiral of blame, doubt, guilt, and self-loathing, while failing to provide a shred of concrete evidence.

Maddening as the notion might be, maybe we’re not meant to make sense of our situation. Could it be that the mind of God is so broad and deep and infinite that its wisdom would be beyond our limited capacity for comprehension?

If we could easily spot the higher intention behind the events of our lives or answer our own cosmic questions, we wouldn’t really need to seek God, would we? We’d be able to carry on in our self-absorbed ways without considering our connection to our Creator and to each other.  

Perhaps the difficulties we face are meant to be read as invitations to lean into God’s love and let it carry us through. Regardless of the inherent purpose that underlies our circumstances, maybe every struggle (and success) offers a new opportunity to deepen our trust in the wisdom that passes our understanding.  


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