Asking God Why

I mentioned in a previous post that I struggle with trusting God. I even blame Him for the loss of many of my hopes and dreams. In light of this new information about my heart, I'm attempting to unpack some of the 'why's and 'how's behind those feelings. I've been going back to the places in my memory where things changed drastically, and while my OCD tendencies would prefer this went chronologically, I don't think the Holy Spirit is working that way.

The first memory that came back as I pondered my distrust and blame of God was the first time my husband asked me for a divorce, and as odd as it might sound, I remember it more clearly than the day I said 'I do.'

It was a cloudy Autumn Sunday. I went to church alone. I even remember what I was wearing, but I won't bother you with anymore unimportant details. Our pastor was in the middle of a sermon series on Jesus' last words. This sermon was on John 19:25-27 where Jesus told Mary, "Woman behold your son" speaking of John, and He told John, "behold your Mother." I don't remember the entire sermon, just the part that would later be etched in my memory. In Jesus' moment of greatest agony, when His body was being torn from Him, when His human heart needed love and support the most, when He was surrounded by a throng of venomous mockers, there were only a handful of those who loved Him there at His feet. Only one of them was family. The Cross is a lonely place, and chances are the closer you get to it, the farther your family will be. If you make it there, stay there and cling to those around you because they are now your family. I felt lead to pray at the altar a prayer that I don't think I will ever forget. I wanted Jesus to lead me to the Cross and help me stay there even if my husband didn't go with me. I didn't fully understand that prayer until later, but there was a great moving of the Holy Spirit in my life that day. From the altar to the parking lot of our apartment, I felt surrounded by His peace and comfort. I remember my hand trembling as I reached for the car door. I didn't want to get out and go in. There was a growing sense of dread the closer I got to my building. Climbing the stairs, I felt like my feet got heavier with every step, and as I opened the door, I lost my breath. Standing there waiting for me was my husband and those words no one wants to hear, 'we need to talk.' I could never have imagined what he would say next, all I knew was that I didn't want to hear it. I ran to the back bathroom claiming not to feel well and shut myself inside. With my back to the door, I slid down collapsing on the floor. Then he asked for a divorce, and the first thought in my head was why. Why now? Why this? Wait, God, this isn't what I meant. Am I really going to be a 23 year old divorcee?

After the ensuing conversation and argument, when I was again alone trying to figure out what just happened, I asked God again. Why? Then immediately began to think. Oh, wait, you're not supposed to ask God why. You're supposed to take what you get and trust He'll work it out. So, I began that journey in denial believing God was going to work it out. That I had followed Him and worked so hard to make my life pleasing to Him, that He wouldn't let this happen to me. My husband was making a mistake, and God would correct it, I just needed to have faith.

The thing is, though, Jesus isn't an insurance policy. You don't pay in good to get protection from evil. However, I couldn't grasp how a good and loving God could let this happen to me. It had to be a mistake.

By the time I accepted that I couldn't fix my marriage, and I stopped trying to force my husband to stay (or rather, strongly suggested he go), by the time I was finally and completely alone, I started to see this wasn't God's plan B. He was in this from the very beginning. I was able to see what a gift that Sunday was, and how He had been with me every step of the way. He was there when I handled things well and He was there when I handled things more like a 2 year old. He was there to comfort and guide me when I thought I would die from the pain, and when the loneliness seemed to overtake me, He was there to prove He would never leave me. He was there to answer me in my distress, and in time He would answer my need to understand why.

God is not intimidated or threatened by our questions. When we cry out in humble desperation, He hears and responds in love. I cried out in pain begging to know why, and I believe He answered my question, at least as much as I could understand at the time. You see, there weren't just things in me that needed tweaking like most Christians are willing to admit. There was a monster growing inside me that I didn't have the capability to see. I didn't understand why a 'good girl' like me should suffer something like this. I didn't think I deserved it. It's a scary thing to think you deserve certain things from God, and this kind of trial was the perfect way to show me exactly where I stood. While I believed I was serving God, I had begun to put my trust in my performance, in my handling of my life. I had created idols almost invisible to the human eye, invisible even to me, and up until the crumbling of my marriage, anyone who knew me would never have thought I was anything less than a model Christian.

God in His sovereignty allowed me to suffer the loss of my image, the view I thought others had of me. See, it had to be the crumbling of my marriage (and subsequently other areas of my life). Infertility, sickness, the sickness or death of a child, the death of my husband, or any number of other blameless sufferings, all of these things would have only fed this monster. It had to be something I couldn't explain away. I couldn't stand completely blameless, a mere subject of the evil of this world. It certainly couldn't have been something I could claim to have been found worthy to suffer. It had to be something that carried a certain social stigma with it to help me see where my true devotion lied, to see that I had, in a sense, decided that God owed me for my 'clean living.'

I wanted to be near the Cross. I wanted to go even if no one else went with me, but I couldn't get there carrying the pride of a life well lived. Every good thing in my life came from above. It is not my doing. I did not earn any of the blessings I've been given. I don't even deserve the breath I'm taking right now.

My marriage didn't end that time, not that time or any of the several other times when divorce seemed like the only option. Somehow, we've made it, but it is none of our doing that has brought us here together. It is only by the grace of God, and it is for His glory not mine that I can stand here and proclaim His goodness as I remember the pain.