“Why did Grandpa die, Mum?” he asked for about the hundredth time.
I took a deep breath. My previous answers hadn’t satisfied him. “Well, … that’s just the way life is.”
Despite my desire to answer all of my children’s questions honestly and thoroughly, sometimes I’m not able to explain life and death in ways they can understand. Children don’t have the broad base of experience and knowledge to realise that life is more complicated than they imagine.
Could God possibly have the same problem with me? I’ve asked ‘why’ hundreds of times – why do I struggle with this relationship? Why is my job so unsatisfying? Why do I suffer inconvenient health issues? Maybe my finite understanding is too small to grasp his grand design. Perhaps I don’t have the capacity to appreciate the plan, the pattern, or the plot of his larger story. Certainly, my brief appearance on Earth doesn’t give me the time or space to plumb the depths of God’s purposes.
So I remind myself that he is my Father and I am his child. I can trust that he is working for my good, even when I don’t have the answers.
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