Why, What, See

“Why did God allow this?!” We cry.

“Why, God? Our son! Blind!” The cries of joy at my birth eventually faded into bemoaning. Blind. Loose tongues in the alleys, whispering in Aramaic, “What sin did his parents do? Why? Did he sin? Why this curse and consequence?”

“Why, God?” My parents blamed me for their shame. I blamed my parents. Perhaps—and no good Jewish boy should say this, but I wasn’t a good boy, shamed, ostracized, begging, cast out—perhaps I questioned God. Not blamed—woe to the person who blames God whose name is unpronounceable, the Holy Adonai! But if my parents sinned, why me? Why let me suffer?

“Why, God?” My one friend who left me at nine years old because of peer pressure.

“Why, God?” Hearing other boys my age learn trades, and I beg.

“Why, God?” The dust subtly or not so subtly tossed in my face my unseen feet. The daily despising digs dashed at me in the streets.

“Why, God?” The days without food. When alms didn’t flow. Parents too ashamed, too stretched without a son to help provide for them, to pour out on my plate.

“Why, God?” The festering fear of my father about providing for his wife, for himself, when he could no longer work.

“Why, God?” Daily shame.

“Why, God?” The crisis of the rains that toppled the roof, destroyed part of the house mud wall and roof, ruined the flour, spilt the oil. Hole remains, no money. Hunger for weeks until father could recuperate.

A life of “Why, God?” For us, 2,000 years later. Still question. In our individualistic, rationalistic, hate-authority-istic culture we frame it often, “Why did God allow this?” A Jewish mindset probably framed the heart-hurt differently. But same questions. Same daily suffering. Same crisis suffering.

 

But then.

"As he passed by, he saw a man blind from birth. And his disciples asked him, 'Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?' Jesus answered, 'It was not that this man sinned, or his parents, but that the works of God might be displayed in him. We must work the works of him who sent me while it is day; night is coming, when no one can work. As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world.' Having said these things, he spit on the ground and made mud with the saliva. Then he anointed the man's eyes with the mud and said to him, 'Go, wash in the pool of Siloam' (which means Sent). So he went and washed and came back seeing." (John 9:1-7)

One day. Wake up. “Why, God?” again. Pain of facing another day.

But then.

“Go, wash.”

I see. See!

See more than people. See more than the dirt streets I used to lie in. See more than people’s amazement. See more than my parent’s faces. See more than the temple. See more than the sky.

I see the Son of Man (v. 35). I see the Lord (v. 38). I see my Savior!

I do not see why—I don’t understand. But I see WHO. And I see WHAT he did about it. What he is doing about it.

I see WHAT HE IS DOING. Months later, I see—see my Lord on the cross. See all the powers of hell unloosed against him, all the evil, all the suffering, all the sin, the curse, the full day of God’s wrath poured out on my Savior. I see the Risen Lord, I see the suffering and sickness and powers of heaven disarmed and put to public display of defeat (Col. 2:15). I see WHAT my Lord has done for my blindness, my pain, my shame, my blame.

Kingdom come. Kingdom is coming. “Why” questions can be helpful. But so often we see our lives in individual episodes—and we miss WHAT GOD HAS DONE AND IS DOING ABOUT IT. God is working to reverse the curse, blot out every sin, remove every sickness. He is working to redeem all of creation, to build his kingdom of shalom and wholeness. Our little events of suffering, our lives of pain, are being caught up. God has done and is doing something about it. About every instance of injustice—from others or from the schemes of hell—that come against us. He is working.

What is God doing about it?

Hope.