I struggle with it too

A word-sketch on why bad things happen to good people.

Why do bad things happen to good people?

Not a rhetorical question. Not asking for a friend.

And sure, it could be argued that there is no such thing as "good" people for "all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God".

So, maybe the question should be why is evil allowed to happen to innocent people?

Children, for example. Why childhood cancer? Why child abuse? Why child sex trafficking?

I don't have an answer.

It had been a few months since I last cried in church. It feels like one of those clocks you see on a manufacturing floor, "60 days since the last employee injury". Well, my clock would read, "3 days since I cried in church". And this isn't the sweet, single glistening tear dancing down your cheek. No. This is sobbing. Absolutely wracked with grief. Uncontrollable. The "ugly cry".

I honestly can't even remember what the topic of the sermon was, but there was a side trail taken discussing God's power and how the enemy (the devil) can't do anything without God's permission. God is all-powerful; the enemy is not. There were many hearty, "Amen!"s from the others in the pews around me.

Each "Amen" was another blow to my seemingly solid exterior. And finally, I cracked.

Tears started flowing and I tried, I really tried, to get it under control, with no success. Flash forward five minutes and I'm in the bathroom silently sobbing. Utterly wrung out.

"Why, God? If you are all-powerful, why would you let a baby be born to abusive, selfish parents? Why would you let that baby grow to a 3-year-old that was sexually abused by not one, not two, but THREE grown men AT ONCE? Why would you let that abuse continue to haunt that little girl now grown? Why would you let it taint the intimate relationship of her marriage? Why? I honestly want to know. Where is the love and kindness in that?"

Silence.

"I want to believe that you are good, that you are good to me. I do. But I'm struggling. I believe, help my unbelief."

Today I finally read Sarah Haggerty's November newsletter (A time to weep). In it, she talks about the necessity of actually experiencing grief (instead of bottling it up) and how our Western culture does everything to avoid it. She brought up the idea that we love to be the person who went through hard things but "you'd look at him and never know".

As I was sitting in that bathroom, sobbing for that little girl, I couldn't help but feel like I was taking too long. I should be over this. This shouldn't still have the ability to level me. Desiring to be the one that you "look at and would never know". Feeling like it would be a better testament to God.

But even though I don't understand it, I believe the Bible when it says He is good. I don't know why I was allowed to suffer in the way I did, but I do know I'm only standing here today because of God's grace and provision.

So maybe the next time the flood of tears overwhelms me in a church full of hearty "Amens", I don't need to be so embarrassed by the grief. Maybe I can say a wobbly "Amen" and that is enough because it's all I have to give. Maybe it's okay if others look at me and know.

I don't know what you've been through in your life. There are likely griefs and sorrows that still sweep in at the most inconvenient times. And maybe, like me, you do your best to put on your strongest face, grit your teeth, and bear it. Maybe, like me, you worry that any less would be less than what's required.

But it's okay to not be okay.

It's okay to not understand.

And from my experience, it's okay to ask God "Why?" He's a big God. He can take it.

After my good cry, I went back to my seat and texted with my husband. I laid it all bare before him, even my questioning. My lack of understanding. What felt like a lack of faith.

He didn't scoff. He didn't judge. He didn't try to meet me with platitudes and cheery retorts.

He simply said, "I don't know either. I struggle with it too."

Me too.

I don't know why children get cancer. I don't know why children are born to horrible situations. I don't know why spouses are allowed to die too young and leave a family behind grieving. I don't know why two loving parents experience miscarriage after miscarriage and abusive parents are blessed with a baby.

I don't know either. I struggle with it too.

And honestly, I don't think we'll ever know this side of heaven. I don't think we'll understand until we're face to face with Him.

I guess that's where faith comes in.

"Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen." (Hebrews 11:1 ESV)

I don't know why that evil was allowed to happen to me, but I do know that God doesn't take kindly to those who cause "little ones to sin".

I do know that he is the exacter of vengeance and justice. He will repay evil in kind.

I do know that He is "close to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit."

I do know that He never leaves us or forsakes us.

God does not expect us to just "get over" the hurts, the abuse, the neglect. He wants us to bring it to Him. For it to be something that draws us closer to him not pushes us farther away.

He can't answer the question if we never ask.

He can't comfort if we don't bring Him our hurt.

He can't collect all our tears if we don't cry.

So even though I've been told by well-meaning Christians that I should never be so insulting as to question God, I do. I can't help it. I've been through too much hurt. I've seen too much to not ask why.

And I don't think God minds. I think He welcomes it. If he didn't why would he have included passages like Psalm 13 in the Bible:

How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me? How long must I take counsel in my soul and have sorrow in my heart all the day? How long shall my enemy be exalted over me? Consider and answer me, O Lord my God; light up my eyes, lest I sleep the sleep of death, lest my enemy say, “I have prevailed over him,” lest my foes rejoice because I am shaken.

When my daughter questions me, I meet her with love and understanding.

How much more will God meet us in the same way?

So I'm going to do the only thing I know how to do.

I'm going to take my hurts and my questions to the ultimate healer and answerer.

And I understand this is likely not the answer you want to hear.

I know it's not enough. I know it doesn't heal the hurt.

But I hope it eases the ache just a little to know you're not alone.

I don't know either. I struggle with it too.

"I cried out with no reply and I can't feel you by my side

so I'll hold tight to what I know: you're here.

And I'm never alone."