Unanswerable Questions

As the shock dissipates and the reality comes rolling in like a giant wave of destruction that one could never outrun - I am overcome.  By pain, by disappointment, by a cacophony of questions that seem to pour out of my heart and are received only as an echo in the darkness.  There is no answer that comes, no response, just their echo that seems to go on forever.

The spiritual struggle that is at war within me right now is more intense than any struggle I have faced with the Lord before.  I think in the past it felt like I was a disappointed child.  I wanted something and my Father said 'no' and I wailed and wrestled against him and it was a real struggle.  But ultimately, I trusted my Father, I trusted His care for me, the goodness of His heart and I submitted.  I finally relaxed into him and quit fighting and I felt better, I was able to accept whatever it was that He would give me, even if it wasn't what I wanted.  Now, this place is deeper and darker.  It feels like the distrust and betrayal of a child who has had her Father promise he will come and then he continues to not show up when he said he would.  The sadness, rejection, betrayl and hurt are real barriers to being able to trust that father again.  I don't mean to imply that this is a crisis of faith for me in the sense that I may choose distrust and walk away from my Father because I did not get what I wanted.  I just mean that this crisis of struggling with, who is the Good Father when things unfold in a way that does not feel like it could possibly be the most good, the most kind or the most loving - it is real.  I will not pretend like I understand this or like the answers don't matter.  I believe that walking through this valley with honesty and earnestness is part of the spiritual journey.

The truth is that in the depths of my despair, I am not experiencing this supernatural protection  or comfort from Jesus that makes it feel better.  In some ways, God feels far off and I don't think that is an accident.  When I look at the scriptures, it seems that there are definite times when God hangs back and does not rush in with the answers to make everything better right away. "Truly you are a God who hides himself." Isaiah 45:15, "As you do not know the path of the wind, or how the body is formed in a mother's womb, so you cannot understand the work of God, the Maker of all things. " Ecclesiastes 11:5.  The Psalms are full of David crying out to the Lord asking "How long will you forget me?" And "Will you reject me forever?"  Even Jesus uttered similar words as he hung on the cross.  I think the place I am in is not unique - I think it is exactly the place where God builds faith - the place where it looks like a wasteland and hope is nowhere to be seen, not even on the horizon.

I am learning that it is not the suffering, the loss or the pain that threatens to destroy my heart.  People have a remarkable capacity to endure hardship and suffering when it makes sense.  Men and women choose to die for the sake of their country, to protect their children, to be martyred for their faith.  It is the confusion, the circumstances that cannot be explained that threaten to crush the spirit most acutely.  I can understand suffering as a result of my own sin or even the sin of someone else that impacts me... But when you did nothing and you had nothing to do with or no control over what happened; those are the situations that shake our foundations so deeply we cannot simply get back up and move on.  As I have been reading the book of Job, I have been struck by what appears to be the source of Job's most intense frustration.  It is not the suffering that God has allowed to be inflicted upon him, it is his inability to find God in the midst of it.  Job says, "Oh that I knew where I might find Him, that I might come to His seat!  I would present my case before Him and fill my mouth with arguments... When He acts on the left, I cannot behold Him; He turns on the right, I cannot see Him.  But He knows the way I take; when He has tried me, I shall come forth as gold." Job 23:3-4, 9-10.  Over and over Job laments that God feels far off and talks of how he longs to be able to communicate with God about this disaster.  I feel this way right now.  I want God to rush in and make this better, help me understand what He is doing, affirm that He sees and cares.  It isn't that I don't believe the things that I know to be true about God.  It is this seemingly incompatible place of my knowledge and beliefs about him and my actual reality.  I have to believe that it is in this place of incompatibility,  this place of impossible questions that real, enduring faith is born.  As Dr. Dobson puts it in his book, When God Doesn't Make Sense, "What is faith?  It is 'the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen' (Hebrews 11:1).  This determination to believe when the proof is not provided and when the questions are not answered is central to our relationship with the Lord."

I know my questions are mostly unanswerable, but that doesn't stop them from pouring out of my broken heart.  And that's okay - it is okay to struggle and not be able to accept a simple - God is good all the time.  It doesn't mean it isn't true, but my heart needs to get there and for me that takes time and learning what it means to trust God when your dreams fall apart.  I would rather have that kind of faith - the kind that can withstand unanswered questions  and dead children- than the kind that says the right words but doesn't believe them.

If I am honest

I write not just because it helps me process my pain, but because it makes me feel braver and less alone.  I am learning to be honest with myself, to not rush towards the silver lining, to tell the truth - even when it is hard.  I guess that is one side effect of suffering.  You quit caring about all of the crap that doesn't matter, you only have room for what is important.  When you are broken, when you are shattered into a million pieces, when the fire burns the fiercest and threatens to consume everything… this is where love is born.  I don't want to be here, no one chooses the furnace, but when it chooses you - you will either be consumed or you will fight like one who overcomes hell and somehow light will pour out of all those broken pieces and create a radiance that is not your own.  

I am not there yet, not to the place of the broken pieces coming together to form anything from which light can pour forth… but I have hope that the radiance exists, that there is still joy, still hope, still healing.  I'm still in the midst of the disaster, the one that strikes and you know that sometimes good people get screwed for no reason.  Sometimes you get something so awful that you never deserved.  You cannot 'win' your way out of it by working harder or being better - sometimes life is really unfair.  Having suffered similar losses before, I know what it is like to cling to Jesus like the life jacket He is and somehow find dry land again and after careful examination realize that you are 'okay.'  You are not the same, you will never be the same, but you faced your greatest fear and survived.  It was easier for me to see good, to see the ways that those experiences made me richer, deeper, more compassionate and present.  It was easier to look back and see that God had made something good out of my pain.

Now…if I am honest - which I will be… I don't care.  I don't care about all of the fruit that grows out of suffering.  This coming from a person with a well developed theology of suffering.  I'm just over it.  I don't want to grow, it isn't enough to lose another child just to learn a lesson of some kind.  I have to believe there is more, that God's redemptive purposes are greater than that.  I am learning to be gentle with myself, to quit running away and striving so hard, to just accept that this is my heart right now.  To acknowledge that while I know all of the true things about God, it is a million miles from my head to my heart at this moment… and that's okay.  Hope will come, but it is a door that each person must open on their own - no one gets to do it for you.  

I was praying today and just telling my Father about my deep hurt and disappointment.  I had this vision of myself with my heart shattered into a million tiny pieces and I carefully gathered them and put them in this hard, protective shell and I cradled it carefully in my hands.  Jesus put his hands around mine, He didn't say anything but I could feel him beckoning me to look at Him, to open my hands… but I couldn't, even when I tried, I couldn't see His face, I couldn't meet His eyes, I couldn't unwrap my hands.  I was desperately holding onto what is left of my heart and feeling so fiercely protective of my hopes, my pain, my dreams… how can I open my hands and truly let go when I know that even if He holds it all, it doesn't mean that I will receive what I want?  

That is where I am, this is the truth.  I know that God won't leave me in this place, that He won't give stones when I ask for bread, but He can handle it.  He can handle my heartbreak, my unbelief, my pain … whatever I bring Him - He can take it.  I may not be ready to hand it over yet, but I know He's there, hands gently cupped around mine, waiting for me to be ready to let go.