Have you ever felt like something happened in your life that God must’ve missed. We know He’s omnipotent and omnipresent and all those other church words, but aren’t there still times when you feel like those are just words on a page in the theological dictionary 101?
I’ve wrestled with this feeling a lot since we received Annie’s diagnosis. I have screamed one question through steamy tears into my unanswering car windshield, groaned into silent pillow cases many nights, and shouted bitterly into the innocent water drops that are supposed to wash me clean each morning. “Were You just asleep for a few minutes while her left atrium and ventricle were supposed to be forming?! Too busy that day?! Out golfing?! What were You thinking?!”
And you know what? Even though I’ve asked more times than I can count and countless questionings are still to come, I haven’t gotten an answer…not one that I like anyway. Because He hasn’t told me what He’s thinking. And He probably never will. But I’ve seen Him working in it.
Sometimes when I ask God why I have to wonder if my daughter will live, why it has to be my child, why our family, why, why, why…He reminds me that He knows what it’s like. He’s been there. He sent His son to earth as a sweet, tiny babe all the while knowing that in 33 short years He’d have to watch Him die and pour out His full wrath on this very own son of His. God knew the prognosis when He made the plan, when He asked Jesus to come to earth to die for my sins and your sins. To rescue the world because we cannot rescue ourselves. To redeem us for His glory and His purpose.
And then I find myself humbly asking again, “Dear God, what were you thinking?” How could He love me so much that He’d give His son? For me– doubting, questioning, quivering– me.
I still don’t have answers, but I cling to truth. He will never leave me. There is a purpose, and I don’t have to know what it is to trust in my loving Heavenly Father. He proved that He is good that day, centuries ago, when His heart broke for His child so that I could become one of His children too.
I know that His mercies are new every morning, and every evening I recount His faithfulness. Because each day, even in the midst of this, He is faithful and I can celebrate.