Sometimes I revel in the mysteries of God. That he's always existed and always will exist. That he's Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, three yet one. That he created our amazing planet—oceans, mountains, deserts, and the incredible variety of wildlife, not to mention people—from nothing. How do I possibly wrap my brain around that? The indefinable, enigmatic part of God's nature sends a shiver down my spine and reminds me how truly big he is—and how blessed I am that he not only cares for me, but knows me intimately (Psalm 139).
Sometimes, however, that mystifying, inexplicable side of God drives me crazy. Because all too often, I just don't understand why he allows the things he does. Why do wonderful, loving couples remain childless while others conceive, and throw away, babies seemingly on a whim? Why does a man who never touched a cigarette die of lung cancer while a two-pack-a-day smoker lives to a ripe old age? And why must a faithful, godly woman such as my mother bear the death of both her husband and an infant daughter while others remain untouched by such tragedy ?, I know, I know—we're living in a fallen world experiencing the consequences of its sin. I recognize that God is always in control, even when it feels as if he's missing from the equation. And I believe his promise that his plans are "to prosper [me] and not to harm [me], plans to give [me] hope and a future" (Jeremiah 29:11).
That doesn't mean I have to like it. And it definitely doesn't mean I don't experience moments of doubt, when I cry out, "Why, Lord? How could you? What were you thinking?"