I used to say I didn’t know why God does some of the things He does.
He allows riches to benefit evil men and violence to fall upon the innocent. He allows a good nation to turn against itself and tear itself up from the inside. He allowed my dad to suffer a stroke and then live on severely disabled for 3,063 days before finally passing away.
hen I’m physically weak or emotionally wrecked, I ask God why He allows these things. The answer is obvious: when God does anything, or allows anything to happen, He does it for my own good and for His own glory. Paul tells the Roman believers (and us) that “…we know that God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose.”
But what I’ve learned about myself is that I don’t ask with the right attitude. I don’t even ask with the voice of one “who loves God.” Instead, I question Him with a discontented, complaining heart. In the question, I have no faith. I don’t want to know why God does what He does. Rather, I want God to explain Himself to me. In the question, I rank myself above God and I put Him on trial. I am the prosecutor; He is the defendant.
Forgive me, Lord. You are the Potter. I am the clay. I must consider:
“You turn things around! Shall the potter be considered as equal with the clay, that what is made would say to its maker, ‘He did not make me’; or what is formed say to him who formed it, ‘He has no understanding’?” (Isaiah 29:16)
And also:
“Woe to the one who quarrels with his Maker—an earthenware vessel among the vessels of earth! Will the clay say to the potter, ‘What are you doing?’ Or the thing you are making say, ‘He has no hands’?” (Isaiah 45:9)
And finally:
“The secret things belong to the Lord our God, but the things revealed belong to us and to our sons forever, that we may observe all the words of this law.” (Deuteronomy 29:29)
I don’t know how God works the details to meet His own will. And when my heart is in the right place, I don’t need to know. God is good (all the time), and His will is perfect. It is I who am flawed, and the better my eyesight becomes, the deeper I perceive the cracked, sinful condition of my heart.
Instead of hounding a perfect God to explain Himself to a sinful man, I should be fishing faithfully for sinful men to proclaim to them a perfect God.
