33. God... Why?
Today is 7 days from the first anniversary of Dad’s passing. I’ve committed to writing 40 stories about him as that day approaches. Forty Steady Stories.
This is a story about Dad, but it's also a story about a boy named Charles. And frankly, it's a story about you and me. It's a continuation of last night and why God sometimes doesn't heal right when we ask for it.
In the summer of 2004, fifty people faithfully gathered every week to pray for Dad and our family. Many in that same group of people were also praying for my cousin Martin’s son, Charles. Martin and his wife Amy found out while she was pregnant that Charles was missing a heart ventricle and most likely would not survive. If he did, he would need three open-heart surgeries immediately upon birth. Charles was born prematurely on February 24, 2004, and Martin, Amy, and Charles went immediately to the Children's Hospital of Philadelphia (CHOP) for six tough months. (I’ve asked their permission to tell this story here.)
Charles fought valiantly, as did Martin and Amy for their son, but he passed away on July 26. It was one of the greatest honors of my life to sing, “I Can Only Imagine” at Charles’ funeral, and the Lord gave me a song for Charles the morning of his funeral that I played at the graveside ceremony. (That song is below if you want to listen to it.) Just two weeks later, as I mentioned in last night’s post, we found out Dad had been healed. It was a tough but precious time for the Cashes and the Weltons.
I found myself in a different and difficult place emotionally and spiritually. Would I have felt differently about God if Charles had been the one healed and my dad had not? Would that have been fair? Why did God pick Dad to survive and not Charles?
It wasn't because Dad was a better person than Charles; after all, Charles was just a baby. It wasn't because more people were praying for Dad, because there were a ton of people — all over the city and beyond — praying for Charles as well.
I've wrestled with this question in that situation a lot. And here's where I've landed. When my faith only takes me so far, I have to lean on two pillars that I have found to be trustworthy. One, that “God is close to the brokenhearted…” (Psalm 34:18) and two, that God's promise to make everything right will come true in His time not ours.
What if God used the last 16 years of dad's life to do things for our family and in our family that otherwise would not have happened? I know He did. My brothers and I are closer than ever. Dad’s struggles these last few years have allowed us to come together and bond in a way that we never would have experienced otherwise. There's a whole set of 40 more stories to tell there, but the bottom line is I would run through a brick wall for those guys. I love them. If you want to read a little more about that you can read this blog entry from 2019.
As a result of their experience at CHOP Martin and Amy became very involved when Levine Children’s Hospital was getting off the ground in Charlotte. They were passionate about it. They understood, better than anybody could, how important it is to care for the families and the kids in those situations. They knew how much it would've meant to have been home in Charlotte instead of Philadelphia for those six months.
And what if, even 30, 60, or 100 years from now, there's a kid whose life gets saved at Levine Children's Hospital who grows up to do something that changes the world? Martin, Amy, and Charles are a huge part of that story — even though they may not even see the ending.
I'll close with this analogy from my dear friend Ken Schultz. He and his wife Kim were at the Rose Bowl Parade many years ago. They could see when the parade had big gaps and when people were marching in place because it was bunched up. They could see a block or two to the left and to the right. Then Ken looked up and saw the blimp. He realized that the blimp could see the whole parade at once and why stuff was happening far better than he and Kim could with their limited view.
Y'all, I think that's the best description I can give you that there are just some things that the Creator of the universe understands that I don't. I know some of you reading this may not even believe in a creator. That's OK. I'm not trying to convert you. I'm just trying to tell you my story and perspective. I've been talking about the problem of evil and suffering for most of my adult life with people who have questions and are looking for answers. And I include myself in that group.
In my experience, God takes the broken pieces of our lives and creates mosaics. I don’t always understand how or why or when. But I know that He does. My dad was a mosaic. I am a mosaic. In this world, we are all broken, but God loves to repair and restore broken people — sometimes in this life, always in the next. He did for Charles. He did for Dad.
Thanks for reading this far. Here’s the song I mentioned that I wrote for Charles. It came out in about 10 minutes on the morning of his funeral. I don’t take credit for this one…
