Is it OK to ask God why? I guess it’s human nature to want to make sense of the world and why things don’t go the way you want it. Worst yet is when you feel you did everything right and still there is this chunk of your life missing or you were robbed of what was supposed to be yours. Marriages fail, people leave, people die, you lose money, you’re popular and then you’re not.
Whatever the reason, people have always and will always question God. Mostly because we’ve been taught a number of things about God. Firstly God has a long white beard and lives in the exalted cloud. Secondly God does stuff and we should always be afraid. Faith must never actually make sense.
I used to remember thinking when people used to say, God has a plan, that God obviously rolled the dice on you. I questioned a lot. I started early and I make no excuses other than to say, I needed to know why. I believed that people who said, “trust in the plan” were weak minded and incapable of actually providing me with an answer. So at the age of 11, our family broke and my mother with her newly acquired title of widow, carrying our weekly groceries on foot, I had time to ask God why us? We weren’t bad people. Being poor was a punishment. Not that we were every rich. But suddenly I had become aware of money and the power it held and for the life of my couldn’t understand why the man with the long white beard was nowhere to be found.
I will be honest. For every time something bad happened to our family, I blamed God. My logic stated that if God was all powerful then nothing bad could happen unless God allowed it to and if God allowed it to, God was picking on us.
Relationships never seemed to work out and I blamed it on a number of things. Not being rich enough always reared its head. I always felt like no matter what I did, no matter my intentions, God was the kid with the magnifying glass and I was the ant facing imminent death.
Last night my mother phoned to tell me her close friend’s son had died. This barely 2 months after his father had died. You pray that God has a plan and although people can point to texts proving that there is always a plan. But you can’t help but ask. That’s just me, I am weak of faith on the best of days. But its heart breaking to see a mother have to bury her son. My grandmother buried 4 of her adult children before she finally died. And in spite of her less than cordial relations, I felt sorry for her.
And someone will say God has a plan. Sometimes that’s not enough. Sometimes we need to know. Sometimes there are no options than for the world to make sense.
I don’t claim to always get it. But I am more patient. Well not really patient in the normal everyday sense, but compared to what I was, I have made significant progress. Things don’t work out, people leave, you lose money, people die. Its not because you were necessarily bad or did something, sometimes people are spineless douchebags and you just happen to be unlucky.
The great thing about unlucky is that it usually opens your eyes to that which really matters. And that’s the problem, sometimes we just don’t let go. Someone said these Oprah-esque words yesterday, “God sends you want you need, not what you want” which is a nice snip of emotional anaesthesia but doesn’t always get to the heart of things. All I do, like all those sheep I used to criticise is say that there must be a plan out there.