December 9th, 2016 will forever be a day I’ll never forget. I had been up pretty late tending to some demands of my new job. I didn’t sleep well when I finally did go to bed- the old familiar waves of anxiety and restlessness were crashing on top of me and I was annoyed with being drenched. I woke up late in the morning and saw several messages from a family member, asking me to call them and that it was urgent. In my sleepy state of mind, I had managed to come to a conclusion of what the call would be about. I couldn’t have been more wrong. My family member spat out some words and they didn’t quite register. I asked her to repeat herself, and she did. Her words left me feeling as if someone had unexpectedly punched me in the sternum and then banged my skull against a brick wall.

Someone I had known from our infancy and had been very close friends with since, was killed in a car wreck earlier that morning. Truthfully, she was more like a cousin of mine than just a friend. (I realize that doesn’t give the best context, because some of you may be in the unfortunate situation where you don’t know your cousins at all, or if you do, don’t like them much. However, my cousins and I are the closest of friends). She and I had grown up together, our moms were best friends too. Even though my family moved to another state when we were 5 & 6, we saw each other a few times each year, and faithfully wrote letters for almost a decade. I have over a hundred memories of us playing together, talking for hours upon hours as only girls do… We made dozens of pinky promises, dreamed of all the adventures we’d go on as adults, and often would lay on the grass of her family’s lawn at night while we watched the stars. We shared laughter, tears, frustrations, questions, encouragement, and happiness. We would whisper under the sheets about the boys we thought were cute and discussed our ideas and beliefs of God, life, and the way people operate. We loved antique stores, especially ones containing old books. Watching the sun set on the rooftop, swimming, picking vegetables in the garden, cuddling with cats, and Sonic runs during the summer. Baking cookies and sweets, making tea and coffee, listening to her play the piano in the Fall and Winter. We had the idea once for her to compose a song and I would choreograph a dance to it. We never got around to that one... Even after high school, when our lives got much busier, we stayed in touch through sporadic texts and long phone calls. Once we went a whole year without talking to each other, neither of us liked that fact, but we effortlessly picked up our friendship as if no time had passed at all… She was going to in my wedding, if that day were to come. But now, suddenly, she is gone.

It’s like being robbed, something felt stolen. A piece of my heart had been ripped out without a warning. I’m left with a giant hole and a hundred questions.

This brings me to the real stuff, the process, the grit and hardship I’m left to face: the questions.

You see, I know that God is real. More than that, I know my friend knew Him too, intimately in fact. I know that God is good, abundantly good. I know that He loves me, and loved my friend, more than my temporal lobe will ever be able to fully process. I know that my friend is with the Father right now. I know that our Savior, Jesus is One who Heals. I have personally experienced “small” miracles, and have been present to witness “big” miracles. I know that He loves surprising us with miracles, revealing Himself through them time and time again. I know that God is ubiquitous. I am confident that Jesus was with her as she was driving early that morning. I have personal stories and experiences that have brought me to these conclusions, ones that line up with God’s character as depicted in Scripture. Through my experiences and learning, I also know that God hates death.

I keep hitting this brick wall, and can’t seem to get past. It’s as if I’m playing Mario Bros. and if I go under the brick and hit it enough times, it will spring forth a tall plant and lead me to a secret place of treasure that provides deeper understanding about life, death, and God Himself. But how many times do I have to hit that damn brick before the plant will emerge? It’s the age old question I "used to" know the answer to... Why did God let her die? My old answer (that was essentially just me parroting what have heard my whole life) is no longer is one I agree with or even believe to be biblical. I just am not satisfied, as it no longer rings true to the Jesus I have come to know over the past few years. The Jesus that isn’t distant, the One that doesn’t turn a blind eye, the One who empathizes and feels more than I because He cares more than we are capable. Jesus doesn’t walk away, He doesn’t dangle Himself over us saying “if we can do better, be more holy, then we get more of Him.” No. We get the fullness of God right now! We don’t have to do anything extravagant to earn His love, and we certainly can’t lose it. Jesus is the One who makes beautiful things out of dirt, who trades us our dirty rags for a cloak of righteousness. He stepped in- and took it all upon Himself, so that we may experience what it’s like to be a daughter/son of the Creative King. It was much easier to process death before I knew all this- who Jesus truly is.

There is this worshipful song by John Mark McMillan that he and his wife Sarah recorded and released in July of last year. It captured me the first time I heard it, and over the past year has continued to meet me as a comforting friend during some tender moments. A particular part of the song goes, “You’re never gonna let, never gonna let me down.” I have clung to that line as a promise from Holy Spirit. Yet right now, I am finding myself disappointed by God. I feel let down, knowing that Jesus was completely and totally capable of sparing the life of my friend. Honestly, it’s incredibly scary to even admit this… I have been wrestling and wondering with the idea of me even being allowed to feel offended and let down by Jesus. I know in Matthew 11, Jesus stated, “blessed are those who are not offended because of Me”. Now, it’s in slightly different context, but nevertheless has been skipping through my mind and heart usually at night and in the morning. Last night when I got home, I laid in my bed for two hours and ended up audibly yelling at Jesus that I sure as hell was offended by Him, that I felt betrayed by Him. It’s a bizarre feeling, being extremely angry at the only One you know can bring you peace, comfort, and healing… I haven’t had a ton personal experiences with God as Father, but I did last night. I felt like a four year old who was throwing a tantrum, and while knowing that it wasn’t going to do much good, needed to release the intense built up emotions that were caused by the parent’s action. And yet, that same four year old who desperately is still wanting to be close and be held by the same parent. Unlike human parents, God isn’t flawed. He is the perfect Parent. So... What then?

Perhaps a slightly deeper issue I found this morning is, I am afraid that God isn’t as good as I think He is. It feels like there has been broken trust between us (and lemme be upfront when I say I have trust issues to begin with). How do I still trust Him now? How do I bite the hand that feeds me, but end up staying around long enough to then hold the hand again? What do I do with this fear? I suppose I’m not really asking you... Though if you feel compelled to respond, I’ll gladly read it and probably develop a conversation with you. However, this is more just where I am right now- today.