I've questioned God a lot in the past month or so. Not the existence of God, but how and why he does things, or why he even allows certain things to happen. I've justified some of my questions with biblical truth, but there came a point where I felt eye to eye with the creator of the universe and said, "You are not good. This is not good." Someone with incredible wisdom and incredible experience at church said it like this, "There are moments that you feel like saying F you God." Now. Peel yourself off your chair. Gather your chin off the floor. Yes, I said F you. But listen, I believe God knows my heart BEFORE I even put these thoughts together. So what I'm being right now is honest. What I'm being right now is truthful, vulnerable, raw and real.
What could I possibly question God on that would cause such a reaction? Well, death is an obvious answer in light of recent events. Or how about children who suffer? I have seen and heard stories of things that happen to children that would make you vomit. Seriously. And you tell me that I'm out of line in questioning God on that? I heard about someone else's story with their first born. The baby was overdue and placenta wasn't functioning fully. They did an emergency c-section, but the baby couldn't take her first breath because she developed a lung infection in utero. The baby basically suffocated and died immediately. You know what their reaction was? They grieved for a time and said, "God is good." Are you serious right now? How does that prove God's goodness? Did I miss something?!
I've felt bombarded with these huge issues, and have thought What if what I believe isn't really true? What if Heaven is just a place we here on Earth talk about so the loss can be bearable, and help us manage the sorrow? What if I'm wrong?
Well, God heard me loud and clear, and met me intimately, personally and perfectly in Bill's memorial service.
Patrick, his siblings, myself and a couple other people they knew sang Biebel's Ave Maria at the beginning of the service. It wasn't really a problem for me to sing through the whole piece-even with all three endings to that first section. Everyone had kept their emotions under wraps for the whole 5 minutes. Huge relief once it was over. Then the pastor came up and spoke. What I appreciate most is that there was so much hope in what he had to say, but it didn't at all dismiss the hurt, the pain that people were going through. So often I feel that funerals are all about looking toward Heaven, talking about hope-and while I think that's a necessary part, I don't think it's healthy to ignore or quickly breeze over the hurt. This guy didn't do that at all. He talked about Jesus and how he wept for Lazarus. Oh yeah, he did weep. He talked about how God doesn't just walk through life with you as a support (he does), but he hurts with you too, he grieves with you. My heart started softening in this pivotal moment that I remembered that Jesus was fully human, and...he gets it.
Then the line that I feel was spoken directly to me yesterday, "If God was good before, then in His very nature, God is good *even after* Bill's death." It was spoken so tenderly, so beautifully, and yet it pierced my heart so deeply, I thought I might be actually bleeding from the inside. Ok Lord, I hear you. You took my questioning, defiance, whatever you want to call it, and met me so intimately, so personally, that I can't help but feel loved by you. See, some other God could have struck me down dead just for questioning his plan, his reasoning. I DON'T EVEN DESERVE TO HAVE THE ANSWERS, and yet God spoke a small piece of truth that would resound with (maybe) only me. I don't feel shame, I don't feel guilty, or bad, I feel intimately loved by the hand that made me intricately in the womb. And maybe you read that statement and are thinking, "Ummm, okay?" Maybe it doesn't mean anything to you. But to me it was the open arms of God, embracing me where I am, all the while settling my heart of unrest. In that alone I can say, God. Is. Good.
The storm isn't over. In fact, I have a feeling it's only just beginning. But if this is what it takes to go deeper with God, so be it. I think maybe that's the first time I've ever said that in my life. I can't guarantee that I'll always have this attitude, but at least for now, I've been satisfied enough to see what else is in store.
And with that, I'll leave you with a song:
I'll praise you in this storm, and I will lift my hands.
You are who you are, no matter where I am.
Every tear I cry, you hold in your hands.
You never left my side, and though my heart is torn.
I'll praise you in the storm.
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To Bill Anderson, the man that helped build the family that I now have the pleasure of being a part of. The man that worked hard, loved harder and joked the hardest. The man that loved me like one of his own, and loved my son, his great grandson, even more. We love you great grandpa, and don't worry, we'll keep telling your stories for years to come.
