By Jim Nichols

In many ways Adam and Eve were typical humans. They seemed not to know what was going on and asked, either verbally or mentally, “Why?” Or “Why not?” The pattern was set for us.

As wonderful as children are and as much as we appreciate their curiosity and quick learning, as soon as they learn to talk, they begin questioning (it seems) everything. A good part of this is trying to understand the world and is necessary; some of it, however, takes on the flavor of rebellion. This is particularly true as they encounter guidelines and rules for safety and positive behavior. This line of questioning quickly becomes an argument. Tiring of this, a parent or adult (you know you have been there) will end the conversation with the statement, “Because I said so.”

Asking “why” does not end with childhood. We have adult minds that are usually efficient and accurate at solving problems. Why will this key not fit into that lock? Because someone installed the lock upside down. Why does my computer type only in CAPITAL LETTERS? Because I pushed the “caps lock” key.

Other questions we have are quickly answered by the impressive stash of information available on the internet. Indeed, we often can feel stuffed by living in a culture of information overload. Enough already.

There are types of questions that are more serious, however. Many people in scripture ask “why?” The book of Job is full of it and those questions are quite reasonable. The Pharisees asked Jesus “why?” frequently. Sometimes in scripture an answer or response is made, but it seldom clearly addresses the question posed by the questioner. It is discouraging in ways since the questioners feel they have received an answer to a question they did not ask. I feel the same way sometimes. Do you not?

Our good problem-solving minds fool us into believing that it should be possible to understand everything and anything. All we need is to ask “why” and our clear-thinking processes should explain a reasonable answer. We have found this is clearly not true. 

My hospital encounters are filled with patients asking important but typical human questions. It might sound like this: 

“I am in this room because I have congestive heart failure. My husband and I had a wonderful long marriage and it never occurred to me that he would die before I did. Two weeks ago, he unexpectedly held me tightly in bed and cried. He was never a person to cry. Something was wrong that he could not explain. A few days later we found him on the couch unresponsive. Now here I am in the hospital without him, and I feel totally lost. I don’t have a church connection and really don’t have any friends—he was my one and only best friend. Why is this happening to me? Why me?”

Among the more difficult questions to answer is, “I have been sick for so long and have lost so much of my ability. God has blessed me in life. I am finished. Why am I still here?”

This is serious talk, friends. The best I can do (and I am speaking to myself here, too) is refer to a curious passage in Acts 13:36. Paul is preaching and recounting the history of key people. Speaking of King David, Paul says, “. . . after David had served the purpose of God in his own generation, he died.”

I tell patients that they are still alive because they are still serving God’s purposes. When they ask, “What purpose am I serving in this bed?” I respond, “At the very least, your purpose is to talk to me right now and teach me what it is like at the end of life. Furthermore, each of these medical people in and out of the room is watching and listening as you teach them about their own mortality.”

The lesson for us may be that we, in some cases, need to let go of our need to know. Micah 6:8 notes that what the Lord requires of us is “. . . to do justice, to love kindness, and to walk humbly with God.” It does not speak of understanding everything or knowing all the reasons. It does not speak of having all of our “why” questions answered to our satisfaction. It just tells us how to act.

Jim Nichols is a retired Abilene Christian University biology professor and current hospital chaplain