Asking the Right Question about Suffering

Then the Lord answered Job out of the storm.

He said:

2 “Who is this that darkens my counsel

with words without knowledge?

3 Brace yourself like a man;

I will question you,

and you shall answer me.

4 “Where were you when I laid the earth’s foundation?

Tell me, if you understand.

5 Who marked off its dimensions? Surely you know!

Who stretched a measuring line across it?

6 On what were its footings set,

or who laid its cornerstone—

7 while the morning stars sang together

and all the angels shouted for joy?”

I never read Job without remembering the first time I lost a really close friend. Her last name was Byrd, and I always thought that she resembled a bird, not just because she was tall and lanky, but also because she had a compelling spirit of freedom and grace. Often ‘widowed’ by husbands who had to work on Sunday, we frequently paired up in worship. I loved listening to her songbird voice, especially when she sang her favorite hymn, It Is Well with My Soul.

And then she was murdered. In her own garage, coming home from work. Thirty years old. Precious. Lovely. Robbed, and murdered. Of course we asked why? WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY? And HOW — as in HOW COULD YOU? God, what were you thinking? God, do you know what you’re doing? God, didn’t you know that this was one of your dearest daughters, that she loved you so much, that she sang about you so beautifully? Did you know that she did non-profit work? These were the kinds of questions that ran like a steady twitterstream through our minds.

And then came the day for the funeral. My husband was asked to read “Romans 8:28.” I thought, “Sure it does. Sure everything works for the good of those who love God and called according to his purposes.” Frankly, I didn’t think there was anything anyone could say to make my anger and pain go away, and I think many shared my view. And then the pastor spoke. He said something that changed the way I viewed suffering forever. He told us how it was normal to ask the question “why” about suffering, but it’s the wrong question to ask. The right question, the only one that can lead to comfort ultimately, is “Who?”.

The God who allowed our dear friend to be murdered is the one who Created her, Redeemed her, Restored her, and Loved her. He is the same God who tells the lightening when to lighten and conducts the morning stars in their song. He is the God who takes evil, which he did not author (James 1:13-17), and uses it for good (Genesis 50:20). He is the same God who has crushed Satan under his feet. And he is the same God who will one day restore all people and things to a beauty beyond imagining.

On that day almost 25 years ago, the pastor’s words (the Word) did not end my questioning, and it certainly didn’t suddenly quench my grief. It did, however, bring a sense of peace to my raging, of hope to my hardness. What it did do was allow me to sing with my whole heart the hymn my dear songbird friend loved most:

“When peace like a river attendeth my way, when sorrows like sea billows roll; Whatever my lot, thou hast taught me to say, it is well, it is well with my soul.”

If you want to hear a really great sermon on WHO God is in our suffering, check out David Platt’s.