The "why" is the thing. The "why" is by far the most important question you'll ever ask yourself-- it's at the heart of authentic purpose, it's the root of sincere passion and ultimately, it's what will formulate a deeper semblance of meaning and personal satisfaction.
It's good to dig. It's good to shovel past shallow and insipid assumptions of reality and unfold the rich and curious layers of life's nuances.
Why am I alive? Why are sunsets purple? Why are lemons yellow? Why do I serve God? Why do I love this or that? Why? Why should I obey? Why do we suffer? Why? Why am I going through trials of pain and tribulation? Why do I finish? Why did this or that happen? Why?
When we settle for surface level answer, we do ourselves and God a major disservice as intelligent creations endowed with incredible mental faculties. David penned in Psalms to God, "Open my eyes that I may behold wondrous things out of your law". I am riveted by this plea. I assert humbly that me and David have this trait in common-- I'm calling it a craving for "the more"-- a hunger, a need for richer understanding, a pining for greater intimacy, a longing to sink deeper than what's immediately visible into the oceans of His infinite revelation. It takes guts. As my wise sister says, "People aren't afraid of depth, they're afraid of drowning." I agree with this claim, she's my sister, after all.
But there is a dangerous temptation that lurks in this notion-- a superficial intellectualism that put my pride at the center of my understanding.
I've been shook up lately. I've come to realize a few painful truths about myself that aren't so pretty. Here's where God and my "why" met a brick wall.
David pleaded, "Open my eyes". Why? Because what is spiritual and holy in nature could never be carnally apprehended. It took a revelation from Almighty God to open the eyes of his understanding. And it still takes supernatural intervention to discern His Word today.
But what happens when we are faced with seemingly gross personal injustices or unreasonable tragedies in our lives? What happens when we grapple with seemingly unfulfilled promises? What do we do when the pain seeks to question God's Sovereignty and our bitterness begs to dismantle His character? What happens when our God-directed "whys" are met with silence and no viable reason is manifested?
The "why" that once brought fresh thirst for God and His Word now becomes the battering ram against my faith in Him.
So what do we do?
We grab ahold of this unshakable truth: because God.
Because the I AM needs no justification to establish His decisions. Because His understanding is infinite, and because, at the end of the day, from here to eternity, He is infinitely good.
I'm cosmic dust. I fall on knees and repent for believing I could ever back God into a corner of confession. I breathe out my "why" and He breathes out His peace. I lay down my critical thinking and He lays down His love. I open my heart and He opens His hands and walks me through my doubt.
The answer is on the other side of faith. It's on the other side of consistent obedience. And even if the answers don't come in this life, we will have a million years to dissect every discrepancy with Jesus, somewhere on a green pasture by a river that flows from the throne of God. But by then, will it even really matter?
Friend, dear reader: if you find yourself in a season of questioning, interrogating God and cross-examining your present circumstances that you feel don't "make sense", or add up, don't feel condemned. Please. God isn't scared of your questions, not even a little bit. Our Jesus is able to face every single one. But we have to be able to embrace our "non-answers" with faith. I've learned to hang up my "why" and gunsling my "Because God". And it's awesome because I'm so much happier. Religion says, "If I do x, I will get y and carry on with my self righteousness and selfishness". Relationship says, "I obey. And hey, I love you, God." Answer or no immediate answer, I am first called to be a disciple, not a philosopher.
"Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen."
