Asking Why This Instant!

I don’t know why cancer takes a child.

I don’t know why some wives miscarry once, twice, five+ times.

I don’t know why she had to lose both legs. 

I don’t know why so many daughters don’t have daddies and sons don’t have fathers.

I don’t know why the imagination puts itself in a dingy box labeled “pornography” and traps itself there. 

I don’t know why some couples say their vows at 19 and never part until cozying up to a century, while others navigate a beautiful life with never a partner to share it with.

I don’t know why his marriage was torn apart when she decided she wanted a wife instead of a husband.

I don’t know why being wrapped in brown skin subjects her to a lifetime of “less than.” 

I don’t know why the brain deteriorates and the body breaks down.

I don’t know why mental illness is real.

I don’t know why some are born handicapped.

I don’t know why his future vanished in an instant, crushed by steel on that otherwise silent, pre-dawn road.

I don’t know why the only acceptable atonement for sin required ripping apart the triune God and torturing Him to death.

I don’t know why love hurts so much.

 

Why.

We have a million whys, you and me. 

What do we do with them?

 

Ignore them? Swim in them? Suffocate under them? 

Chris Stapleton, in “Broken Halos,” sings, “Don’t go asking Jesus why. We’re not meant to know the answers, they belong to the by and by.” 

Is that the answer? To simply not ask them? 

I don’t know. And I don’t have the answer that’s going to take away your whys. 

I do know we have options. We can ask why if we want to, or we can sit quietly beside our whys. We can pretend they don’t exist, or we can shake hands with them and acknowledge their presence. We can lift them up and release them, or we can wrestle with them until breathless with exhaustion. We can release our whys in a flood of tears, or we can drink them in and digest them. 

There’s no right or wrong way to handle our whys. 

When my whys are a wolf pack, snarling and closing in on me, my own hunt becomes one for safety, for peace. All I want is to run to my Shepherd. He’s unfazed by wolves. I just want to go and sit with Him. Go and cry there. Go and rest under His staff. Go and be me—the me He saw fit to bring into the world; the me He knew would ask a thousand whys; the me He knew couldn’t handle the answers.

You and me, we’re human. We’re born into finite flesh and blood. While we’re fearfully and wonderfully made, our skin is vulnerable to prey. I know this full well. 

So, for now, I beeline for Jesus and let my whys follow. In His presence we all sit. Somehow, my questions don’t consume me there. They lose their fear factor. And while they’re usually relentless, around Him they settle down. They get sleepy.

Funny thing about Jesus’ presence ... I used to try to escape it. Why press into a God who keeps answers from me? I figured I’d fight my whys solo … find my own answers. But when I tried, I got eaten alive. Misery, every time. 

I no longer try to assert my independence from my good Shepherd … simply because it hurts too much. I wasn’t created to wander alone among wolves. 

Do your whys chase you? Haunt you? Hold you captive? Leave you numb? What if, instead of finding answers to pacify them, you found peace sans answers? What if you let your whys join you in the vast, open field of the good Shepherd’s sweet, consuming love? Could you and your whys lay down together, under His staff, and be?  

"For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts." —Isaiah 55:8-9

"I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep." —John 10:11

Turn on the Light This Instant!

I’ve lived in the same apartment now for 15 months. (This is a record for the longest I’ve lived anywhere in the past four years. But that’s beside the point.) Something that has bothered me all 15 months is the dungeon that is my master bedroom.

I have huge, four-inch thick pads of foam smashed against the window for soundproofing purposes, and that means not a lick of sunlight comes in. That’s no big deal; I don’t spend enough waking time in my bedroom to want to look outside the window (and into a parking lot, mind you). But when I am awake in my bedroom, I do need to see what’s in the room. I have one ceiling light, and it has thrown a very dull and weak, yellowish-hued glow immediately onto my bed below it. It has never had enough oomph to light up anything else, leaving my room dark and shadowy.

I tried not to let this bother me for 15 months. Though I have a box of spare light bulbs in my closet, it never dawned on me to change the bulb until maybe 2 months ago (I’m blonde, you know). Then, for two months I would say things to myself like, “You hardly spend enough time in the bedroom to warrant a new bulb. Just wait ‘til the current bulb burns out.”  Or, because I knew I couldn’t change the bulb on my own (again, I’m blonde), I would think, “Submitting a work order to the maintenance crew is a hassle. Just make do with what you’ve got. It’s not that bad.”

But I was never happy in my gloomy bedroom. Even turning on my table and floor lamps in addition to the ceiling light left me feeling stuck under heavy clouds. Finally, one day I kicked myself in the pants, fired up my laptop and submitted the work order to my leasing office. Then I went to my closet and dug out my spare light bulbs to find the brand I had on hand was Philips Natural Light: “Provides light similar to natural daylight.” This sounded good.

When I got home from work less than 24 hours after submitting the request, I walked into my bedroom … flipped the switch ...  and?! … was nearly blinded. The entire room – not kidding – shone like the mid-day sun! Rays of crystal clear, shining white light blazed into every nook and cranny of the room. I couldn’t even look up because the source was so bright. My entire countenance lifted and I let out a yelp of glee. Suddenly, standing in my room lifted my spirits rather than dampened them. All thanks to a different bulb.

Is the room of your life currently dark and dreary? Are your shoulders drooping as you observe your surroundings? Are your excuses piling high, justifying your sense of being stuck? What if, if you could change nothing in your room, you could perhaps change the light by which you see those things? And what if you didn’t even have to do the work? Would you consider asking the Holy Spirit to change your bulb, to give you the eternal Living Light?

"In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it." John 1: 4-5

"Jesus spoke to them, saying, 'I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.'" John 8:12

 

Picky, Picky This Instant!

Picky, Picky

I’m not a picky person.

I’m not picky about my food (so long as I’m not allergic to it). I’m not picky about the aisle or window seat on the plane (so long as the middle’s vacant). I’m not picky about my clothes (so long as they’re comfortable). I’m not even picky about my car (so long as it’s red). See? I’m not picky at all!

But about people … yes, indeed, I am a picky person. Little did you know that if you’re in my life, you’ve passed a slew of invisible tests. Are we related by blood? You’re in by default. Do you make me laugh? You’re in. Do you look me in the eye and prove your listening skills? Points scored. Do we think alike, talk alike, and approach life alike? Check, check, and check. All you people are IN.

I have my Favorite People, Nice But Just Okay People, Fully Draining People, and Make Me Grit My Teeth People. It’s quite the contest to land in the most desirable caste, but don’t give up just yet. Keep trying to impress me and you’ll likely arrive.

So, that’s me – picky is as picky does. But Jesus? Jesus knows of no such tests or categories. He wasn’t picky. He isn’t picky. And while I feel justified demanding loyalty and honesty of my people, Jesus doesn’t even set the bar that low. He hung out with 12 guys, knowing full well all along that one would betray Him. And one would deny him on more than one occasion. Yet still He let them into His inner circle. Seriously, Jesus? Have you no standards, not even for your friends? Nope, and no.

What if you were standardless with the people in your life? What if you had no tests, no series of ‘rulings out’? What if you loved others simply because you were so full of love, you had nowhere else to lavish it than onto your Favorite People, So-So People, Insanity Inducing People, and even your Outright Enemy People … What if you loved them all? And what if your love was so genuine that somehow you, too, became changed by it?

“Then Judas, the one who would betray him, said, ‘Surely not I, Rabbi?’ Jesus answered, ‘Yes, it is you.’” Matthew 26:25

"A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another.” John 13:34