Questions

I have always been inquisitive by nature. I want to know the how, the why, and the because of everything. I love to learn and I abhor stagnation. In my journey with God, I ask questions, lots of them. I'm not the meek, resigned saint who dares not to wonder why; rather, I am the persistent two year old who trails after Daddy asking dozens of questions and responding to each answer with "Why?". Maybe that says something about my maturity- after all, Josh asked wa-a-ay more questions at two years old than he does now at fourteen. There have been times when my questions were demanding and I even tried bargaining with God in an effort to hear from Him, but now- I ask questions not so much because I expect to get answers, but because voicing them helps put them into perspective. That's how I've felt this week as I grapple with the death of the only son of my missionary cousin in West Africa. Christopher was a gift to his family and I know they loved him as such, but how could they know that the assignment of his life was for only ten short years? What parent is ever prepared for the searing pain of laying to rest the flesh and blood that they conceived and birthed and nourished and cherished? How do they go on living while dying, rejoicing while mourning, being strong when their world has fallen apart? How do they grieve the loss of one child while celebrating the gift of the remaining three? In the midst of such agony, how do they show the goodness of God to the world who is watching, or perhaps more importantly, to their own children? Is this anguish really worth the salvation of even one soul who may be watching?  My heart lies exposed to view as I wrestle with the questions. It is humiliating to realize that I have been economy-minded instead of heavenly-minded; that I want my sacrifices to insure me from grief and pain.

But I am slowly learning a few things...  One, that peace lies not in answers that I can grasp and interpret, but in JESUS.  Peace is relinquishing my right to know and to control, and resting in the goodness of God even when I can't feel it.  After reading a letter written this week by Christopher's mama, I am in awe at how abundant the grace and peace of God really is.  I do not doubt the intensity of the pain and the finality of death, but the faith shining forth from their broken hearts assures me anew of the greatness of my God.   My questions fall to the dust and I simply worship Him.  

Christopher, you never knew how many people would be touched by your death.  Eric, Martha, Marissa, Carolyn, and Bethany- you are being prayed for now more than ever before in your lives.  Who knows what  fruit may come forth from your sacrifice and the prayers invested in your family?  The Lamb will receive the reward of His sufferings in your lives, even now!  ...We love you.