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it there sparked two simultaneous but diverse feelings. It made me feel good that someone else had come to the same conclusion. I was flattered that my idea was already in print even though it was attributed to another person. But my ego was also somewhat deflated because my insight must have been more obvious than I first imagined. Listen to this quote from Irene Bargmann of Columbus, Nebraska: "When sorrow comes, we have no right to ask, 'Why did this happen to me?' unless we ask the same question whenever joy comes our way."¹ So there you have it, practically my whole sermon in twenty-six words!

      I would therefore suggest that we never forbid asking the question, "Why, God, why?" I would urge instead that we boldly expand its application. We should apply it generously to life and to the Scriptures.

      So now we ask not simply, "Why did the prodigal son leave his father and waste his inheritance?" We ask the question of grace: "Why, God, did the father find it in his heart to forgive the prodigal and welcome him back?"

      We ask not only why Peter denied his Lord but also why he was given the power to become a disciple of the risen Christ. We ask not only, "Why do we sin and 'fall short of the glory of God'?" (Rom. 3:23) but also ask, "Why does Christ die for us 'while we [are yet] sinners'?" (Rom. 5:8). The issue is whether we focus primarily on the perplexing existence of sin and suffering or upon the immeasurable riches of God's grace. The scope of our questioning may determine whether we become trapped in despair or set free by

      What is our dominant question? Is it, "Why is there so much tragedy?" or "How can there be so much grace?"

      Are you ready now to ask, "Why, God, why?" from a completely different perspective and with a completely different tone? Will you ask God "Why?" not only for your tragedies but also for your blessings? Will you remember to ask God how it is that you deserve the good things that have happened to you?

      Identical questions may have a very different attitude behind them. I might ask, "What did I do to deserve my parents?" But I would raise that question from a different perspective than a child who suffered from parental abuse. But no matter how difficult our life situation has been, there still have been positive gifts from life and from God. What good things have come your way? What have you done to deserve them? As you think of them will you ask, "Why, God, why?"

      Some ask: "What did I do to deserve loving parents?" "Why, God, was I able to find a loving spouse or a faithful friend?" "Why, God, should I have food and shelter and luxuries when so many in our world suffer with little or nothing? What did I do to deserve this?" "How could I be so lucky as to have been born in the United States?" "What did I do to deserve living in the South after air conditioning instead of before it?" "What did I do to deserve a computer that saves my rough drafts and allows me to correct my sermons in a fraction of the time that it took the founders of the church? Why, God, was I allowed to experience the nurture of people in the church? Is it fair? What have I done to deserve it?"

       "Why, God, was I allowed to experience the nurture of people in the church?"

      We all could raise not one but hundreds of "Why, God, why?" questions if we took time to reflect. And just as we do not deserve many of the bad things that happen to us, we do not deserve many of the good things that come our way.

      We need to be fair in our questioning: "When sorrow comes, we have no right to ask, 'Why did this happen to me?' unless we ask the same question whenever joy comes our way."²

      In his letter to the church at Philippi, Paul gives several astounding instructions to these young Christians. Most amazing is his instruction to "Rejoice in the Lord always ..." (Phil. 4:4a). Doesn't Paul ever ask that most basic of questions: "Why, God, why?" Didn't Paul have reason to question life's fairness? You decide whether Paul's life made it hard for him to rejoice always, whether he had cause to ask, "Why, God, why?" He writes of some of his ordeals:

      Five times I have received from the Jews the forty lashes minus one. Three times I was beaten with rods. Once I received a stoning. Three times I was shipwrecked; for a night and a day I was adrift at sea; on frequent journeys, in danger from rivers, danger from bandits, danger from my own people, danger from Gentiles, danger in the city, danger in the wilderness, danger at sea, danger from false brothers and sisters; in toil and hardship, through many a sleepless night, hungry and thirsty, often without food, cold and naked. (2 Cor. 11:24-27)

      Aren't these grounds for asking the agonizing question, "Why, God, why?" I think so. Paul's list of hardships certainly makes my complaining about my eczema and car problems seem minor by comparison!

      Paul was not obsessed with asking, "Why, God, why?" of his trying circumstances. But he must have asked why he should be so richly blessed. He must have asked why God would choose him to be an apostle, to have the special privilege of sharing the truth of the gospel with the Gentiles. He must have been grateful for God's empowering him to do the work he was assigned. He must have felt grateful that one who had persecuted the Christians could be forgiven and allowed to be a part of the Christian fellowship.

      The ultimate question for Paul was not, "Why is there sin and suffering and tragedy?" A prior question for Paul was, "Why, God, should we receive all this marvelous grace?" So this man who suffered much could move from questions of why to an attitude of thanksgiving and shouts of praise. This man who suffered from the "thorn in his side" could invite the church at Philippi to join with him in praise:

      Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. . . . Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. (Phil. 4:4, 6-7)

       Perhaps you and I do not ask, "Why, God, why?" too often. Perhaps we ask the question too seldom.

      Perhaps you and I do not ask, "Why, God, why?" too often. Perhaps we ask the question too seldom. Maybe we can agree to a rule for its usage: "When sorrow comes, we have no right to ask, 'Why did this happen to me?' unless we ask the same question whenever joy comes our way."

       His disciples asked him, Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?" John 9:2

      He asked them, "Do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way they were worse sinners than all other Galileans?" Luke 13:2

       God of pain or Compassion?

      F or countless centuries, people have been lifting their voices of despair or confusion: "Why, God, why?" "Why was my baby deformed?" "Why did the earthquake destroy the city?" "Why am I sick?" "Why did that accident have to happen?"

      In the face of almost every tragedy, hardship, or sickness, people have asked, why. "Is there any reason for these things to happen?" In the Old Testament, one interpretation seems to dominate the others: tragedy, catastrophe, sickness, defeat are often understood as direct actions of God. These devastations are seen as a means of God's punishment for sin. According to this theological position, the root cause of suffering is sin. If one is sick, it is because of the spiritual unfaithfulness of the person.

      Throughout much of the Old Testament, hardship and suffering are understood as tools of God—tools to punish, chastise, test, or temper the people of God. Suffering, tragedy, and hardship often were not understood as occurring by chance or as a result of human error; they were seen simply as God's intervention in response to the sins of the people. It is ironic that many insurance policies still refer to hurricanes, tornadoes, and earthquakes as "acts of God." I wonder: Is this the kind of God we worship?

      Jesus was quite aware of the prevailing theology of his day. Sickness still was understood as a manifestation of sinfulness. Material wealth, health, large families often were seen as signs of God's approval. But many people still were not convinced of such a theology. Many who witnessed their own suffering and the suffering of others continued to raise the probing question: "Why?" "Why do people suffer? Is it really because of sin? If so, whose

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