What I Don't Understand

There is hardly a dry eye in the room as a video opens up the memorial service. It is Sam telling everyone goodbye...one more time. As candles flicker, I'm reminded of his life and how he lit up the lives of so many. A packed parking lot and a church filled with close to 400 people are evidence of this. Sam lived life large. And there is now a large space that can never be filled in quite the same way again. We all feel a bit empty. 

As I take in the scene, I'm reminded of the words of Dr. Lee Warren, who's book I've Seen The End of You I recently read. He says that he's coming to believe that it's not so much doubt that's the enemy of faith - we can question lots of things about this life and God says that's okay as long as we trust Him - but rather, it's the things we think we know that threaten to tear our faith apart. Somehow, deep in my soul, I kind of have to agree. I wonder about a lot of things in this life but the times I thought I knew outcomes and answers but was proven incorrect? Those are the times I felt the most adrift. Because it made me realize how little I understand. And I had to find a way to believe even when it went against everything I felt or thought was right. 

The last year has been full of situations that have defied my understanding: Sam's sister, Susanna, makes her way up to read his eulogy. She had been diagnosed with cancer first and nearly died a year ago. We all thought she would go and we'd be at her service. Sam hadn't even been diagnosed yet. But here we are a year later...and she is still here, but Sam is not. Why? 

Sally makes her way over to say hello. In two years, cancer took her husband and both her parents. And now she is here for another goodbye. Why?

Sam's sister-in-law spills the tears as she talks of how she knew. She knew before anyone else did. She's a post-op recovery nurse. She's given her life to using her hands and her heart to bring healing to those in their worst days. But it's almost gotten too much. In the last couple years, she's been working at the hospital when so many friends in her life slipped away from this world. And now, the latest, she heard the results from Sam's procedure before anyone else did that Sam's case was not hopeful. She told him as he came to after surgery that this likely would not end the way anyone hoped. She looks into my eyes as she wipes away the tears and simply asks, Why?

Earlier this same day, I've hugged friends at another memorial service. My childhood Sunday School teacher - gone too soon. As pain sits on the room and we grieve together, I find myself wondering why once again. 

Why the chronic pain Danny endured for so long? And why did its complications take him from us so soon? His brothers had life-altering health issues too but somehow, they're still here fighting. And he isn't. 

Why has Dottie been allowed a 92-year-old life when death seems a bit more acceptable and my Alex was gone at 31? 

Why did Jared and Andrew take their lives but Dallas and Vinni who loved life died in car accidents? 

Why is Lucas cancer-free but Tom and Jim couldn't pull through? 

Why is Jamie's wife Jazmin fighting cancer after he's already lost so much in life? Hasn't he been through enough? 

Why is God still granting prosperity to one friend when he's turned his back on all he believes but another who still believes is nearly crushed under the adversity he's currently facing? 

The ways of God are baffling me, and the why situations just keep piling up. In each situation, my idea of what I think I know has been turned on its head. I feel like I don't know anything anymore. 

I look around at those attending the two services and I ask myself what I can keep learning from all these reminders of life's brevity. For one, I wonder, how would we live differently if we could look into the future and see our own funerals? If we could see how much we're loved, how many care, would it change how we get through the lonely times when we feel abandoned in a world that doesn't make sense? Not that we're close to everyone we know, but perhaps we're more seen than we think. 

I also wonder how we might love differently if we knew how much time we really had with others before it was too late. The pastor at the first service reminds us all of this fact and pleads with those in attendance to make that phone call to repair a broken relationship, go do that good deed to show you're there for somebody else, tell those around you how much you love and appreciate them...because you really never know. You may think you know, assume you know. But none of us really do. 

At both places, I see many people I haven't been with in years. I hug them and tell them I'm glad to see them. And I realize that in both these places, words of hope are being spoken into the despair. The next day, I'll tell a struggling friend: thank God that we've been given hope because woe to those who suffer and have nothing to hope for in the midst of it. We've been given a promise that one day, one day, things will be explained and set right. We will understand then. But for now, we don't. 

We mourn and we grieve in this broken world, longing for the day when Jesus will wipe away all these tears of pain forever. We wait for the time when all this sickness, death, and despair will be a thing of the past and we will live in perpetual joy for eternity. But until then, we persevere and we endure. We cry to God for faith to believe in things hoped for but not seen. 

I don't have answers for all these questions. The reality is that God doesn't owe me an explanation, even though I've still asked Him several times for one. With the Psalmist, I say, "My tears have been my food day and night, while they say to me all the day long, 'Where is your God?' (Psalm 42:3)." Even the promises of God's redeeming all this sometimes aren't enough to calm my soul. I'm not okay, but I know I will be. Life is hard right now and doesn't seem to be getting better, but I know it will. I know because I can return to what is true even as what I thought I knew is being challenged in every way. 

Lord, I believe; help my unbelief. I may not get what You're doing now, but later I will. I trust You in all of this. Just give me faith for what I don't understand.