Surviving the Death of a Child, Part Two

Part Two: Why, God? Why?

(Read Part 1) I saw a man lighting a cigarette at the side of his raggedy old pickup truck. He didn’t know I was watching him from a window several stories up. It was the wee hours of the morning. The sun was starting to peek through the trees by the rear parking lot of Bloomington Hospital.

Behind me, my wife was giving Nicaea her first and only bath. She lovingly wiped the blood and vernix from our daughter’s body.

I didn’t take part. I stared out the window and wondered if the man was like me. Was he overwhelmed by some tragedy? Was he escaping to his Chevy to gather himself? A cigarette didn’t sound bad. All I had was a flask of whiskey. So I took a swig. Was he asking, “Why?”

I turned around and sat down on the couch.

Why?

Why did this happen to us?
Why did my only daughter have to die this way?

I let out a long sigh. It was loud enough that one of the nurses cocked her head as if to say, “Can I help you?”

I said nothing. The fog in my brain was clearing. I knew that these weren’t the real questions for me.

You see, I knew why it had happened. At least I partially knew. I wasn’t asking why. I was saying, “How dare you, God!”

The Christian God—the one and only true God—has absolute authority and control over all events of history. Nothing happens outside of His plan. God is sovereign over everything. Even the death of my little girl. He called her home before I could walk her down the aisle. This was His doing.

Verses swirled in my mind as I grumbled against my Redeemer: