The Hardest Question

Good Friday, 2010

I have heard “why?” a lot more than usual this week. It seems to be the favorite word of my 4-½ year old grandson, Christian. We spent Tuesday together and the “why” question came up in a multitude of forms. When the fish refused to participate in our fishing expedition and not so much as nibble on the hook, he asked “why?” “Why is the water dirty?” he asked, referring to the green stuff growing at the water’s edge. Later, at MacDonald’s for lunch, he pointed out the dragon toy that he wanted in his Happy Meal. When he got a Gronkle instead of a Night Fury he wanted to know why. I entertained “why” questions about alligators, blue herons and egrets. I offered explanations about manatees, turtles, minnows, shells, rain and sand. Some answers satisfied him. Some were met with yet more “whys.” As a chaplain, I’ve learned some “whys” can be much more complicated than the ones about dragons, real or imagined.

She looked at me as I sat in the chair just off to the side at the end of bed. The tears welled up in her eyes as she formed the question. “Why did this happen?” “What did I do to deserve this?” I listened as she searched in vain for some reason in her life, some behavior or sin that would explain why God had allowed her to suffer so. “I have prayed and prayed and prayed and I can’t understand.” “I just want to know why.” I felt the urge to explain it away or offer some defense for God’s questioned character and pushed it back, fighting to stay with her in the pain. No answer would have been adequate. And she is not alone.

He wondered aloud about unrealized hopes. Would he be there for his son’s graduation? Would he be there at his wedding? Would he ever know the joys of being a grandfather? “Why do the men in my family have such rotten genes?” “My brother, my father, my grandfather, all of them had rotten tickers!” “I thought I had beaten the odds, my heart is fine.” “So why did I get this cancer?”

“He’s just a baby.” “Why did God take my baby?” Her cry was inconsolable. It is the kind of pain every parent imagines and hopes never to experience. Her husband arrived and added “whys” of his own. Family and friends tried to answer them; saying things I learned long ago made no sense and offered no comfort.

Why questions about alligators and manatees are not so tough. “Why did God take my son?” “Why did God let this happen?” kind of questions are much more difficult. The best one can do sometimes, most times, is to be with them in silent brokenness. God knows.

Easter blessings,

Jerald