I find myself wanting to know why. About everything.
My first question is almost always, why?
Why is that such an important question to me?
Whether it is math, art, language, or cooking, I am not satisfied with how something is done. Or what must be done. I need to know why.
I don’t think it’s wrong to ask questions. Even to ask God, “Why?”
Certainly, He senses the spirit of our questions. But He is not threatened by us, not even by our bad attitudes. He is too powerful and too good and too holy to be worried about His ego when a little girl, who’s seen the desperation of the world, demands why.
One day, when I open the front door to my true home – Heaven – I will ask God face to face, over supper, “Why?” Just like I used to do with my own father. With respect, and curiosity, and the desire to know.
I think I will probably ask Why did You allow the suffering?
Why did you allow my dog to die?
Why didn’t You speak to me, in a clearly audible voice I could hear in my ears?
Why must some people be eternally separated from You?
Why should I keep going when life is so painful?
Why did I hurt so much?
Why did the ones I love hurt so much?
Why did I feel abandoned?
But there’s a flip side to the why…
I think I will ask Him, Why did He keep on loving me even when I decided I didn’t want to love Him anymore?
Why did He go through hell for me so I wouldn’t have to go through hell?
Why did He abandon His Son so He wouldn’t have to abandon me?
Why, when I was closest to feeling completely gone, completely lost, did He come so close, so tenderly, and reveal His presence to me so clearly?
Why did He make a way for His wayward child?
Why did He decide to die for us?
Why did He forgive my doubts, my failures, my cruelty, my heartlessness, my guilt?
Why does He give even the worst of us the chance to experience beauty, sunrises, cold ice cream, naps in hammocks, rain?
Why does He love me?
Why does He love, when loving is painful and a heck of a lot of work?
Why does He love?
Maybe just seeing Him will show me why.