This piece is from the Young Writer’s Cohort. They were asked to write about a season of suffering or a really difficult trial and share what they learned through it.
“God, Why?”: Seeking God Amidst Uncertainty
I moved home in July 2023, and for the months that followed, I could only describe them as “hard.” I spent the previous school year abroad in a desperate attempt to run away from problems that I had been avoiding, but had also been festering for a very long time. While time away was fruitful and beautiful thanks to God’s graciousness, I felt the inevitable need and pressures to confront and solve those same problems when I came home. It was hard. Coupled with those problems came readjusting to living with family, maintaining relationships near and far, and balancing school and work amidst other responsibilities I suddenly found myself carrying. There was a lot to think about and consider, but also a lot to do.
Then, my grandfather was admitted into the hospital. My life seemed to both stop and spiral out of control at the same time.
Though initially, I wouldn’t have described this season as one of “suffering,” I would have described it as any one of its synonyms: painful, confusing, frustrating, angering, and so on. As I reflect upon this season, I’m cognizant of the fact that it has not passed yet; on some days, everything seems great, on others, everything feels absolutely terrible. I write this piece holding dearly the thoughts and revelations he’s had me come to realize and learn: about what suffering is, how pride can exist even in suffering, and what it means to seek comfort in him and those around me. At the same time, I still feel the uncertainty of this season. I’m still learning what it means to trust God amidst all of this while believing that his plan is good.
Questions, Questions, Questions
Unsurprisingly, the question of “Why?” emerged quickly and repeatedly. Why was this happening? Why now? Why me? Why my grandfather? Why does suffering and grief even exist? And when I couldn’t get a satisfactory answer to any of these questions, the question quickly shifted to: Why is God doing this?
The question of “Why?” is probably the most human response. We feel better with reasons because it makes stomaching the pain easier to some degree. Without a reason, it feels as though we’re simply left with pain. How should I deal with this pain? This is what makes the concept of suffering so much harder to grapple with: that if all things come from God, then naturally, we ask God why suffering happens to us and our loved ones. But it’s important to remember that in God’s creation of our world, it was very good (Gen 1:31). Suffering wasn’t part of God’s plan and came as a consequence of the fall, as a product of sin. This separation from God is what suffering and pain is.
At the same time, God doesn’t delight in our suffering but identifies with us in it (John 11:33-35). Rather than approach suffering as moments of punishment, perhaps we ought to consider that these are moments used to teach and to humble us. Roy and Revel Hession write in their book We Would See Jesus: “If we will not from our own choice seek Him and want Him, He often may allow sorrow, suffering, trials, ill-health, smashed plans, and failure, so that in our need we will find our need of Him. Such suffering, however, is never punitive, but wholly and only restorative in its intention. It is love humbling us and drawing us to the place of repentance and to God” (23).
To understand the depth of this, I first needed to recognize the root of my problem – my pride.
I’m Prideful Even as I Suffer
The first time I considered everything that was happening, I cried really hard. It was a full body wail that terrified me as a plethora of emotions came spilling out all at once. I was scared of my reality. I was mourning what I felt was taken away from me. I was overwhelmed by what was happening. I was angry. I felt weak, especially as it seemed like I was unable to do anything. Yet at the same time, I felt like I had to do something. Anything.
In this moment of frustration and loneliness, I cried out to God, “I don’t understand. I can’t hear you. What do you want me to do?” My approach to suffering was always task-oriented – I focused on what I needed to do next: What do I do to alleviate my suffering? What do I do to give myself a semblance of control?
That’s the isolating thing about pride. Despite my good intentions, I wasn’t approaching God out of a need for him or a desire for comfort from him, but from this belief that if I asked the right questions, I could fix my problems. The world didn’t stop just because I was suffering, and my solution to that was to mediate my suffering with my pride. I sought to do more and more in order to mitigate all the pain I was feeling in a foolish attempt to convince myself that I could handle it and was handling it.
All I was doing was suffering more.
A few weeks later, an elder came up to me after Sunday Service. By that point, I had somehow managed to convince myself that I was fine, and had become emotionally numb towards my own suffering. I remember our conversation being very brief: after we exchanged hellos, she patted my shoulder and simply said, “We’ve been praying for you.” In that moment, the crushing weight I had been feeling came spilling out once more, except this time, I wasn’t suffocating under it but rather, felt relieved from it. My problems weren’t solved, but that wasn’t the point. In the midst of my pridefulness, I failed to realize just how many people had been silently watching over, caring, and praying for me. And in that moment, as I was crying my heart out once more, there they stood with me, mourning with me and giving me the space to feel the pain and heartbreak that I had been holding onto for so long.
The relief I’ve felt during this season rarely came from anything I did. Rather, it came from the moments where I could share my burdens with others.
Seek Him. We Aren’t Meant to Suffer Alone
The comfort, support and love I’ve felt during this season can only be attributed to the blessings I’ve received from God through my loved ones. My pride had left me isolated, but he has provided me with a support network like none other.
God calls us to respond to suffering with compassion and humility (1 Pet. 3:8), to rejoice with those who rejoice, and to mourn with those who mourn (Rom. 12:15). The people that God has placed in my life mirror the way I’m learning to respond to suffering: they don’t seek to expedite it nor do they try to fix my problems. They give me space to process my emotions, they offer to pray for and with me, and some days we simply sit in silence together (Job 2:13).
In my acknowledgement of struggle came the acknowledgement that I need Jesus. Gradually, the questions shifted from “Why?” to “How?” How can I be your good steward in this space? How can I share your love? How can I continue living in your image amidst all of this? Rather than keeping busy, I try now to be still and dwell on God’s nature, inviting and allowing him to minister to and change me in these circumstances.
It’s not easy. No one likes pain, and sitting still among what seems to be a never ending amount of pain is very uncomfortable to say the least. But setting aside my pride meant also recognizing that there are things about this season – about my life – that I simply can’t control. Surrendering this season to God means trusting that it will turn out good, even if I don’t understand it right now.
The more I remind myself of this truth, the easier it is for me to say “I don’t know” when I get asked what I’m going to do. The uncertainty is still there, but what is more prevalent is the feeling of peace and trust that I also have.
Despite learning, reflecting and sharing all of this with you, I don’t want to take away or neglect the physical and emotional toil that suffering is. Suffering is hard; it’s gut-wrenching, it’s exhausting, and it’s frustrating.
As this season continues, there are still days where I find myself doubting a little more, forgetting the things I’ve learned, wondering what God’s plan is and how it’ll turn out good like he promised. I find myself on my knees, praying, and questioning once more, “God, why?” It’s in the midst of these doubts where I ask for his wisdom (Prov 3:6): What is it that you see that I don’t? What is it that you want me to learn? I may not get clear-cut answers, and that’s okay. These questions allow me to try to look at things from God’s perspective, knowing and trusting that my circumstances are placed in God’s hands, and recognizing his faithfulness that is present amidst the suffering. On days where things get hard, I hold onto these questions dearly.
I pray as you go through or reflect on a season of suffering, you are provided the strength to consider more than just the pain; to be able to see God’s faithfulness and how he’s working and walking alongside you. I leave you with the words my pastor shared with me: that only through Christ could there be healing where there is pain, and could there be salvation where there is suffering.
Photo Credit: Valentina Locatelli