Why?

We all ask it. It's actually one of the first words we learn to speak. Why? We ask out of curiosity but also out of a deep desire to understand, to comprehend, to know. We ask in our times of need, during moments of duress, in hours of hopelessness. To ask why is to be human. Why me?

There are often no answers. We ask, why? Silence. We cry, WHY? Resounding silence. We sob, why? We feel abandoned. Suffering is real. I've seen it. I've experienced it. There is no easy way to explain it. Life is full. It's full of joy, but also carries the weight of pain and sorrow. Broken promises, betrayal by friends, false accusations, utter loneliness, maladies and malignancies.

But on that cross many years ago Jesus asked it. Why? It hurt. It really, really hurt. Not just the pull of gravity tearing his flesh, the crown of thorns piercing his brow, the nails sticking through his bleeding palms, the sheer physical pain of hanging on a cross. This paled in comparison to the abandonment, the angst, the loneliness, the severing of the closest relationship ever existing. He cried. Loudly. Why have You forsaken me? God had left him alone. To die.

Why does this matter? Why did Jesus have to die? Why couldn't God just have said we're okay? Because we're not. There's something that went wrong. And Jesus had to come fix it. And even though it cost him everything, he thought it was worth it. That's more than enough for me. That's true love. Not only to lay down his life for his friends, but also his enemies. Why? So we could know, we could comprehend, we could understand the depths of his Love for us. Don't be afraid to ask why. Jesus did it. But when you do, look at him, and remember. Remember that he was forsaken so that we never will be. Jesus, thank you.