Usually, I’m not much for playing computer games. There is one I really enjoy, however. It’s called Peggle. Basically, you shoot a little ball at an array of pegs, and you try to knock out all the orange ones. It’s simple, clean, and fun.
My kids really enjoy it, too. Ellie, at five-and-a-half, is old enough to play on her own. She also likes to watch her daddy and me play, as do the others—even the baby. If I’m at the computer, and one of the kids comes by, he or she will frequently ask, “Will you play Peggle, Mommy?”
When I play, I usually have at least one child watching, and often more. Kenny offers advice such as, “Win, Mommy! Win!” Ellie will say, “Get that one, Mommy,” touching the screen to point to a particular peg, thereby blocking my view of it. As I play, she’ll dance around in nervous tension or suck in her breath as she waits for me to make a shot, especially as the number of balls in the ball-o-tron runs out.
When I win, the kids are excited. They will grin and cheer loudly and enthusiastically. “You did it, Mommy!” “Yayyyyyyyyyyy!”
Sometimes, however, my ideas of what it is going to take to win differ from their ideas.
I usually have a particular strategy in mind in trying to clear the orange pegs, or sometimes, the whole board. Ellie has her own ideas of what I should do, and she generously shares them with me. “Mommy, get that one. No, that one.” (Big sigh.) “Mommy, you—” (Sighhhhhh.)
Clearly, how I’m playing doesn’t match up with her idea of how I ought to be playing, and this frustrates her. It frustrates me, too, that she gets frustrated with my playing when actually, I understand the game better than she does.
If she just knew the game better, I think to myself, she’d understand what I was doing and wouldn’t try to offer me advice.
Sounds like something God could say about us, doesn’t it?
It’s the same answer God gave to Job when Job was questioning him. Instead of directly answering the question, God pointed out that Job wasn’t present when God created the world, Job didn’t have the ability to create the world, and Job didn’t really understand how creation worked.
In other words, who was Job to question God?
Dear sister in Christ, do you question God’s strategy? Do you give him demands loosely disguised as suggestions regarding how the world—or just your life—should be run?
Maybe you would never directly tell God what you think he should do. Maybe you are always careful to add the phrase “Lord willing” after your requests. If you are sincere, that’s wonderful. But consider this: when life doesn’t work out as you think it should, do you get angry?
We don’t get angry at someone we think is doing the right thing. We only get angry when we think someone is doing something wrong.
Friends, I’ve been there, too. I’ve been angry at God. I’ve questioned his strategy pretty directly at times.
That’s sin.
Asking God “Why?” is okay, if we’re really asking for information. If we’re questioning his right to do something, or his wisdom or goodness in doing it, that’s not okay.
True, some things that happen to us are not “good”. But we must not allow the bad things in our lives to make us question God’s character or sovereignty.
You see, we don’t have the big picture. We don’t know everything God knows. We don’t have the pure and holy motivations God has. We can’t see eternity.
Why, then, would we think we are competent to question his strategy?
Sometimes, life hurts so badly that we cry out to God. Crying out to him and begging him for answers is okay. God expects and encourages us to seek him desperately when the world is falling down around our ears.
But we must always remember that he understands in ways we are incapable of. And we must make the choice to trust him to have the right strategy for running his world.
Is it an easy choice to make? No. It’s simple, but it’s not easy, especially in the face of suffering and agony.
But trusting him is the only reasonable choice to make.
You see, either he is God, or he isn’t. Either he is capable of determining the best strategy for running the world he created, or he isn’t. Either he is good all the time, or he isn’t.
What do your emotions say that you believe?
Isaiah 55:9—As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.