I find myself asking the age old question.
The cliche word that seems to be married to a question mark, so often he finds himself with her.
The one-word sentence that has it's own universal sign language.
A fist. In the air. Shaking.
Then the rest spills out.
"Why did You let this happen?"
I can't help it. My heart aches. I wonder. I hurt. I look for the redemption and come up empty.
It's dark. It's just so dark.
I grope. I cry. I flail.
Until I see a pin hole of light. Oh, that glorious light. I cradle it in the darkness.
Like the stars in the night sky that shine all the brighter for the backdrop of blackness behind them, so the simple blessings of my life are radiant against the backdrop of my pain.
The Lord is faithful, like He always is. As He shows up, His glory shines, magnifies, multiplies against the inky blackness of this hurt. I treasure the pinholes that He makes, by His grace alone, in this thick blanket of darkness over me.
He could have left me here, struggling to survive. It would have been well within His rights.
But He didn't.
But He also didn't take the darkness away from me. He didn't remove it all from me.
Is this why I ask "why"?
I begin to understand; He knows better. He knows my heart.
He knows I need the darkness to see the Light.
"And its funny how you find
You enjoy your life
When you're happy to be alive"