When God Doesn’t Make Sense

We all face seasons when, from our limited, human perspective, what God allows in our life does not make sense.  Last month, two weeks and two days after losing our son Tyler, we followed the ambulance transporting my father-in-law to the hospital. We had lived life and raised our family within ten minutes of him, so our years were filled with his supportive, loving presence. That evening, while we sat with him, pushing back the reality we were in the same small ICU where Tyler fought his difficult battle with Covid, Dad also passed.

Our minds and hearts still in shock, we barely comprehended our first loss: a young family without husband, daddy, provider and protector; three siblings limping along without their brother; my husband and I learning to live with a hole in our heart. We fought to see through the dense fog to understand why God would allow the weight of another great loss at this time.

Earlier, following the ambulance, as my mind slammed against the wall of another potential loss, my prayers were less than poetic. “Really Lord? Now? I just don’t get it. We can’t do this.” God answered by turning my thoughts to the tapestry analogy. Is this familiar to you? The backside of a tapestry shows no pattern, no rhyme or reason, dangling threads, randomly placed colors, and ugly knots. But the front side displays a beautiful, intricate, meaningful design. The design of a Master Weaver. The parallel to our lives comes from a Grant Colfax Tullar poem, Life is But a Weaving:

My life is but a weaving, between my God and me.
I cannot choose the colors He weaveth steadily.
Oft’ times He weaveth sorrow; and I in foolish pride
Forget He sees the upper, and I the underside.
Not ‘til the loom is silent and the shuttles cease to fly,
Will God unroll the canvas, and reveal the reason why.
The dark threads are as needful in the weaver’s skillful hand,
As the threads of gold and silver in the pattern He has planned.
He knows, He loves, He cares; nothing this truth can dim.
He gives the very best to those who leave the choice to Him.

A beautiful poem containing much truth, yet in reality, difficult to accept. Like a small child trying to peek over the edge of a table laden with holiday delights, we fight to see the top side of the tapestry God weaves of our life. But, He calls us to live almost exclusively looking at the underside of the tapestry.

Our comfort and confidence do not come from seeing the design from God’s viewpoint, nor from knowing His plan. These imply we need to understand what God is doing in order to trust Him. Scripture does not back this thinking. Most biblical narratives play out with characters who have little idea what God is up to.

What we need in our hard times is trust in the Weaver. This faith and trust have nothing to do with our strength or ability. Our weaknesses and frailties flap about for all to see like a shredded flag clinging to a pole in a roaring wind. And we certainly cannot trust, or deny, our feelings that betray us at every turn. Instead, strong trust has everything to do with the object of our faith. A God worthy of our trust. 

We pile up all we know about Him: His faithfulness in our past, His guiding presence each day, and His promises for our future. We’ve watched Him make beauty from the mess. We trust and believe our God redeems and restores. In His way; in His time. On this solid foundation, we trust Him despite our lack of understanding in the present. He tells us He is “The Lord, the Lord, the compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness, maintaining love to thousands, and forgiving wickedness, rebellion and sin.” (Exodus 34:6-7) This Lord is the object of our deepest trust.

Then, we lean in. Lean in to the sovereignty and perfect will of God. Lean in to the truth that because of His omniscient, eternity-encompassing perspective, even though confusing and difficult for us, we can know there’s a reason for what we bear. Though our physical grief flows too deep to feel or fully comprehend the coming joy, wrapped in the roots of our faith, we believe: 

God will turn our wailing into dancing; He will remove our sackcloth and clothe us with joy. (Psalms 30:11)

God will comfort all who mourn, and provide for those who grieve – to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair. (Isaiah 61:2-3)

God will wipe every tear from our eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away. (Revelation 21:4)

Grasping these truths with near desperation, as our hearts lie crumpled with sorrow, we trust the hand of the Master Weaver. Deep in our soul, there resides a peace exceeding our understanding. A peace we cannot muster up for ourselves, for it flows from our Abba Father’s heart. This peace does not protect us from experiencing deep sorrow and pain. Nor does it protect us from disease or failure. It does not protect us from great disappointment or betrayal. Having God’s peace does not mean He removes our raw emotions and pain to fill us with false happiness and serenity.

God’s peace goes much deeper. His peace, stands as a stronghold and shields us. Like a sentinel, His peace stays close. Watching. Guarding. And shouts to the world, “All is well, because this heart, mind and soul are under the protection of the Great I AM”. In our darkest days, when sorrows like sea billows roll, despite our lack of understanding, God’s peace allows us to say, “It is well. Yes. It is well with my soul.” (Philippians 4:7; Isaiah 26:3)

Whatever your hardship, allow your faith in our trustworthy God, to sing this declaration. watch