LIFE’S MOST difficult question is simply this: Why?
Since even the Son of God asked, “My God, my God, why?”, I doubt we should feel faithless when at times we also ask, “My God, why does life sometimes hurt so much?”
It’s a very good question. Writers like C. S. Lewis (The Problem of Pain), Philip Yancey (Where Is God When It Hurts?, Disappointment With God), and James Dobson (When God Doesn’t Make Sense) do a fine job wrestling with this most basic question. If you are, too, you should take advantage of their work.
I thank God for such resources, but we delude ourselves if we assume that knowing why we hurt would make facing pain a great deal easier.
The biblical textbook on suffering is the Book of Job. Job demands an audience with the Almighty and he gets it! But he doesn’t get the answer he wants. He’s never told why he hurts. Once in the presence of the Almighty, he quits asking. He is too busy bowing before the God who, even in the midst of Job’s worst pain, is still worthy of his trust.
God is big enough to handle our tearful, angry, questioning. But I think he knows that what we need more than an explanation is a Father’s embrace.
I went skiing yesterday. It’s a sport I dearly love, though I have neither the time nor the income to do nearly enough of it. I promise you, the muscles used for writing sermons and essays are different from those used for skiing. Today, though the memory of the beauty and the exhilaration more than makes up for it, I’m moving slowly and with some pain!
I know why. When weekend warriors over-exert, their bodies become depleted of fluids, sodium, and potassium, and lactic acid builds up in their muscles, which respond by burning, cramping, and aching. I’ll not soon be published in a medical journal, but I know why my body hurts. Yet it still does. I also know that deep hurts are not like my aches. We don’t remember them with fondness. But two truths about God are as enduring and trustworthy as his snow-covered mountains: God is love, and God is good.
Even when we hurt.