One of the most challenging moments in our struggle to cling to our spiritual foundation is when tragedy strikes, and our logical-self cries out, “why does God allow…”
Fill in the blank from your own experience.
In such moments, our logical thinking collides head-on with our spiritual beliefs.
If God loves us, how can He allow us to experience such pain? How can He ignore our prayers?
Our logic tells us – something is wrong, here. This isn’t what I expect from a loving God. And we find our faith faltering. And we are confused. And we experience frustration and anxiety. And we are angry.
And it continues until time diminishes the impact on our lives.
Recently, my wife and I experienced such an event that shook the foundations of our faith. And we found ourselves asking, “Why did God allow…?”And we found ourselves struggling to understand God’s silence.
Our pain began on a Saturday morning.
After an emergency trip to a veterinarian, we made the painful decision to euthanize one of our senior dogs. Since this dog was my wife’s favorite, with whom she had an especially strong bond, this decision, and the fulfillment of that decision was devastating.
And then the questioning began.
Why did God take this sweet little creature from our lives?
Why did God take the one who gave us the most joy? Why didn’t He take one of our other dogs with who we had less attachment?
Why did God allow us to suffer such anguish?
Why doesn’t He answer our prayers and give us peace?
Through the fog of our pain, tears and depression we struggled to understand. And understanding began to emerge until ultimately, we began to acknowledge the answer.
And the answer is – there is a greater purpose. God’s purpose. And perhaps that purpose is to draw us closer to Him.
We began to recognize that, equipped with our five senses, our education and life experience, we are not capable of fully understanding God’s plan. It is a big picture. Bigger and more complex than anything we can imagine or grasp. And so, being unable to accept on faith alone, we fall back on one of our intellectual tools – in itself, a gift from God – logic. Perhaps a blend of faith and logic can offer some relief.
Normally, we might view logic as the antithesis of faith, but maybe we can apply logic to strengthen our faith.
Our first logical conclusion is that we cannot begin to understand God’s plan, but we can glimpse a few aspects.
The death of a loved one, whether it be human or favorite pet, is always traumatic. It is traumatic today. It has been traumatic for all of human existence. It is part of the human experience.
But death and limited lifespan is critical to our world. Logic clearly shows us that the cycle of birth/life/death is necessary. If it were not for the death element, things would have become very crowded on our planet. In a sense, God is the ultimate recycler.
To deny death would require that life itself be denied. It would require denying new beings the opportunity to live and enjoy all the experiences of a life.
Perhaps God’s plan includes teaching us to appreciate joy by allowing us to experience the opposite extreme.
Perhaps God’s plan includes helping us to fully appreciate the time we have with those we love, while we still have the chance.
Perhaps God’s plan is to allow us to suffer, so that we grow as spiritual beings and build the strength we need for the next challenge..
Perhaps God’s plan is to permit us our anguish so that we are capable of being there for others in their time of need.
Perhaps God doesn’t answer our prayers to give us the opportunity to reflect on all He has promised and to give us the chance to reconnect with Him by learning trust.
As my wife and I work our way through our grief, I am reminded of the poem of The Footprints in the Sand.
When we feel lost and abandoned by God, we need to remember the last line of that poem…
“It was then that I carried you.”
As to our, personal bit of tragedy, some would say, “It was only a dog.”
Certainly, in comparison to greater tragedies such as losing a child, spouse or other loved one, this was a minor event.
But to those who have embraced such a creature as a member of the family – a perpetual child, such a loss is actually comparable.
To all that knew and loved this little creature, he was much more. He was the purest, most powerful form of pure, unconditional love you could imagine. He was the focal point of most of the joy in our household. He was the one who taught us how to accept every visitor, every encounter with love.
Others would question, as did we, “Do dogs go to heaven? Will we be reunited one happy day?”
To that, I would respond – A love that powerful cannot simply be extinguished. In whatever form it takes, even if form we cannot understand in this life, a love that pure must return to God from whence it came.
Perhaps to be shared again. Perhaps to bring joy to another heart.
And maybe that is God’s final lesson.