In September of 2016 my biggest fear came true, and my life changed forever. After a lifelong battle with cancer, my dad passed away, leaving my entire family devastated. The loss was unimaginable. I cannot accurately articulate the pain and grief we experienced in the days, months, and years following; any description I can manage falls short. At only 13 years old, I could hardly understand what had happened. Even now, years later, I find myself without words. A younger version of myself would be angry and ashamed that I cannot describe my dad and the life he lived, even the difficulty and pain I experienced, but I have come to understand that perhaps that is okay. The person he was, the life he lived, and the legacy he left behind can never be typed in 1000 words or less. I have accepted that silence, with its peace and gentleness, does enough – even more, perhaps – than words can.
I was raised in a Christian home, and faith was the foundation of our family. Both of my parents were strong in the faith, and our daily and weekly routines were built upon church, Bible studies, and prayer. Faith structured us. After my dad’s passing, it felt as if the structure I had known began to crumble. The familiarity of religious routines turned sour, and I began to question God. How could He let a bad thing happen to such a good person? The love and comfort I felt from my religion turned to anger and hurt. I struggled to believe in a God who would cause so much anguish, who would let a good and faithful person die. I questioned God’s plan and His motives, distancing myself from Him. I had turned my back from church altogether.
I lived my life like this for years, remaining residually angry, calloused, and cold. I was confused and looking for God to answer my questions, but no answer came. It felt as if God had gone silent. This silence angered me more.
It was not until I came to Madison that I felt an urge to return to the familiar stability and comfort of my tradition. Despite my pain and anger, I craved the peace of mind that closeness to God had brought me. On a whim, in an attempt to feel closer to God and my dad, I decided to read the book of Job, my dad’s favorite book of the Bible. The book details Job, blameless and upright, who is tested by Satan and loses his family, his wealth, and his health. Job had remained faithful to God through most of his trial, until finally the loss had become too much. Job questioned God, His power and will. Ultimately, God responds to Job, prompting him with a series of questions, asserting that He alone is more powerful and knowledgeable than Job. He has the power to give and take away.
As I read, I began to resonate with Job. I saw myself in Job’s shoes, losing a loved one and questioning God’s will. However, just as God spoke to Job, I felt Him speak to me. I remembered how insignificant and powerless I am without God. I was reminded of God’s sovereignty and total knowledge. Who am I to question what He does? It is not my place to question or to gripe, but to remain faithful and trust in God’s plan. I will never understand why this happened, but perhaps understanding is not the main goal. Faith in silence – in the unknown – is worth much more.