Has anybody else ever been told not to ask God why something was happening? Growing up a church kid I heard that in various forms a lot. It’s like asking that question was ever only seen as questioning God’s authority, and never seen as seeking understanding. Don’t get me wrong, there have been times where I’ve strayed into the former, but most of the time I just want to understand. There’s one person that I can thank for helping me understand the difference: my grandfather.

He’s the reason I hold this position about asking God “why.” You see, when I was no more than 8, I was so excited to share about Salvation, and what God was doing in my life, my wonderful grandfather wasn’t having any of it. He looked at me and posed two questions that I didn’t have the answers to. “If God is so good, why did he take your brother? And if He’s so good, why’d He take my leg?” I know, harsh right? That was him though. He was gruff, blunt, and harsh even with his grandkids, but that wasn’t all of who he was. He loved his grandkids, a good western novel, and to make us laugh. So, while yeah, he was blunt to me, I respect that, because that’s the type of person I am to an extent.

At 8, I didn’t have the answers to those questions, and I wouldn’t for another 10 years. I’d always wondered the same thing about my brother. My parents had us via IVF after suffering difficulties with pregnancy beforehand. My mom had to have an emergency C-section when we were 28 weeks along because both she and my brother were sick. I showed up weighing in at 1lb 15oz, my brother was smaller, and after only an hour he died. I on the other hand spent 92 days in the NICU, having two surgeries before I was released within a day or so of my due date.

If you haven’t figured it out, my grandfather wasn’t the type of man who strayed away from asking what he needed to. Those two questions were probably asked with a dual purpose. He wanted to get me to stop talking about something that was a sore subject for him, and he also genuinely wanted to know the answer. He lost the lower half of his right leg several years before I was born due to a work accident involving high amounts of electricity. He dealt with the painful results up until the day he died. He never understood why the God who claimed to be so loving and kind would allow those awful things to happen.

I don’t think he was ever able to get those answers on this side of eternity, but I know he has them now. In 2013, he ended up hospitalized for two weeks due to COPD complications. During his stay, a dear friend of ours led him to the Lord. I no longer had to worry about his salvation, but I also never had the answers to those questions. On Mother’s Day 2017, the COPD finally took him. The next day, I sat at our kitchen table, trying to write something to say at his memorial on Tuesday. I sat there and stared at that blank screen for a long time, nothing I could think to say felt right. Then I did what I should have done in the first place. I asked God for guidance. The words flowed freely after that, and I finally got the answers. And in that speech, I was finally able to give the answers I’d spent years waiting for.

God allowed my brother to die because his life here would have been miserable, he would have been ill and his life would have only been sickness, pain, and suffering. As for my grandfather’s leg? God sometimes allows the bad things in so that later, they can be used in a way that shows His glory. I got my answers when I needed them, and not a second sooner.

I tell this story to make a point. If my grandfather had never posed those questions to me in such a way, I highly doubt my relationship with God would be where it is now. You see, him being himself, and asking the hard questions, made me start asking the hard questions. It had me examining my relationship with Christ, in a way that I don’t think was otherwise possible.

My uncle is famous for saying, “God always answers your questions in one of three ways. He says ‘yes,’ ‘no,’ or ‘wait’.” I think people stray away from asking God, “why,” because they think that it may be questioning God’s divinity and plan. If that’s your reason, you’re right, but for others, it may not. My grandfather asking me those questions put me on a path to understand the difference between questioning God’s plan and seeking understanding.

My grandfather wanted to understand why these things happened, and so he asked the questions he thought would get him the answers he was looking for thinking that he would always get the answers he wanted. That’s not how God works. I learned from him, and it has changed my life.

At some point I stopped doubting that God’s choices were the right ones, and I started being content in the choices that He made. When I realized that there was peace in whatever answer I was given, my life became a little bit less chaotic.