By: Jennie Scott
Her soft voice came through the speaker on my phone, telling the podcast interviewer about the hardest years of her life. This woman has moved overseas, adopted orphaned children, begun a non-profit ministry, and written bestselling books about faith. If anyone shouldn’t admit having certain questions about her faith and her God, it seemed she shouldn’t.
But she did.
“Is a God who allows these things really good? Where is God when the worst things happen? Can I really trust Him when I don’t understand?”
I knew just what she meant.
Our hard questions don’t mean we don’t believe, but they always reveal the depth of our faith. And, I’ve learned, they can deepen our faith if we have the courage to voice them. Suppressing them leads to a shallowness in what we believe.
The questions we’re afraid to voice hide our fears of what might be.
Question: “Where are you, God?”
Fear: He has left.
Question: “Why did you choose not to answer my prayer?”
Fear: He doesn’t love me enough to answer.
Question: “Why are you allowing this tragedy into my life?”
Fear: He doesn’t care that it hurts me.
This woman wrestled with God and came out changed. Stronger. More confident in her God. But she only came out stronger because she was willing to wrestle.
Sometimes we’re not willing to wrestle because we think it shows a lack of faith. I think it shows the opposite. Wrestling shows that we’re invested, that we know something worthwhile will come from the fight. It shows that we aren’t easily scared off, that we know the battle is worth the scars it inflicts.
But what happens when the battle takes a while? What do you do when the wrestling match doesn’t last for just one night?
What do you do when you can’t find the answers? Sarah Bessey says in her book Out of Sorts that sometimes “our answer is to wait in the question.”
Waiting in the question is a type of wrestling.
To wait is to wrestle against the perceived need for immediacy. To wait is to wrestle against the presumption that you deserve an answer at all. To wait is to wrestle against your selfish desires for clarity.
To wait is to acknowledge that you are not the god of your life.
It might just be that in the waiting, we learn more than we would in an answer.
We realise God can be trusted, that He has not forsaken us and will not leave us as we are. We realise that our understanding is limited, that we are incapable of understanding all spiritual implications.
When we wait, we realise that although our circumstances may not be what we want, God is still good in them. Waiting reveals God’s goodness. Yes, the ways of the Kingdom are backwards, are they not? To be first, you must be last. To be great, you must be a servant. When you are weak, you are strong.
Waiting is a gift because it prompts us to wrestle, and we wrestle only with what matters. If it doesn’t matter, it’s easy to dismiss.
Waiting.
Wrestling.
Questioning.
They lead to learning.
Changing.
Trusting.
The questions we’re afraid to voice hide our fears of what might be.
The way of the Jesus-follower is to be brave enough to voice our fears because we know we have a God mighty enough to handle them.
So ask away. Wrestle in the waiting.
And watch God prove Himself.
Article supplied with thanks to Jennie Scott.
About the Author: Jennie is married with two children who shares lessons from her own unexpected journeys and encouragement you might need for yours.