I’m catching on to the fact that life is hard.
In fact, it is so difficult at times, I start to question God’s wisdom in all of this.
I mean, come on. Here we are, running around on this earth, trying our best not to get devastated by some awful thing. You may say you don’t fear, and I say if that is you, you may be in denial.
People are afraid.
And they want to know what they are supposed to do with all of the stress and turmoil. They want to know how they can possibly find any hope as they look around at the loneliness and despair. They try to find solace in their marriage, or children or hobbies, but mostly, they distract themselves from the thought that at any moment the rug could get ripped out from under them. At any moment their world can turn upside down and their lives can shatter into a million pieces at the blink of an eye.
I have friends who are struggling. Huge, devastating things are looming. And there seems to be no end in sight.
It makes me angry. Don’t tell me to think positive or give me answers that are only meant to smooth over my fears. False hope. Because none of it makes sense.
Why does life have to be so hard?
WHY? And then I cry bitter tears because I hear no answer. And nothing changes for the better. And all I hear is silence—and I save the sobs caught in my throat.
The other day, my adult son told me he felt afraid.
The air was instantly sucked out of me. I felt so sad. I wanted to minimize his feelings because the thought of my child, the child I brought into this world, facing their future with trepidation, made me want to weep. This is the child, who for the most part has had more happy days than sad, and whose smile lights up a room. And now he is fearful and without find peace?
I asked myself, “What did I do, bringing my son into this dark place?”
Then I thought of God. My God. The One who is a Father, and who loves purer and deeper and truer than me. In fact, He is the definition of love. And I wondered how He was able to bring His Son to this wretched place?
And then I told myself the things I know.
I don’t worship some far away God who is far removed from my pain. I don’t worship a concept, an ideology, or a human leader.