Why'd You Just Stand by and Let Her Die?

We've spent months praying for baby Finley to be healed. 

I've spent days wrestling with God, since hearing of her passing.  

The following story helped me find, peace. 

If you wonder why our prayers seem to go unanswered; why God seems to just stand idle; perhaps this will help you, too. 

“Stay the course, Mac and I’ll see you again.”

Maggie’s voice drifted across his memory like the wind…

Mac worked the muscles in his jaw and clenched his fist. “I would never let that happen to someone I loved if I could prevent it.” He pointed his finger toward the sky and noticed he was trembling. His chin quivered, “You could have prevented this. All of it…and You didn’t.” Mac sunk to the cockpit sole and drew his knees to his chest. “Why would you do nothing? Why?” For several moments he sat in silence listening and heard only the waves lapping against the side of his boat.

He knew he shouldn’t press so hard but he couldn’t shake the thought. “If one of my sailors stood by and watched a comrade get killed when they could have easily prevented it—I’d have him court marshaled, dishonorably discharged and I’d forever brand him as a coward.” He looked up; his eyes blurred with angry tears. “Now God, where does that leave us?”

No answer, just the gentle breeze, the lapping of the waves and the cry of the gull. “Yeah, ignore me some more—You’re good at that.” 

Then, a nagging question hit him. Why’d you let Richey join the Navy? You of all people knew the danger.

Mac made a single laugh that held no humor, “That’s not even the same thing God and You know it. Joining the Navy is not a death sentence. I didn’t want him to get hurt, but I’d have taken a bullet for him if I could to protect him. I certainly wouldn’t have stood by and watched without lifting a finger to help…like You.”

Silence filled the atmosphere. Another scene drifted into Mac’s mind. Richey stepped on a rusty nail when he was five. The nail was sticking out of the bottom of his shoe and Richey was hysterical. Maggie tried to pull it out, but Richey screamed bloody murder so they rushed him to the emergency room. The nail was removed, the area sterilized and Richey was sent to another room to wait for a tetanus shot.

Richey couldn’t understand why, after already being poked in the foot, they would want to poke him again, with a needle, in the arm. “I’ll be good—I won’t step on no more nails. Promise…Please…Please…Please don’t poke me no more.”

He cried. Maggie cried. Even the nurse who cleaned the wound cried. Maggie held Richey on her lap and rubbed his back and when his breathing settled, she whispered in his ear, “Do you trust me?”

Richey sniffed three times and tried to speak but could only make jerky little breaths. He squeezed his mom’s shoulders and looked in her eyes through tears and lifted his head up and down.

A lonesome wave rolled under the boat.

Mac shook his head hard and the memory vanished. But as he did other questions appeared. Was it Maggie’s fault he stepped on the nail? Did she make him? Why’d they hurt him again? The questions raced through Mac’s mind faster than he could answer but he knew the answers immediately.

“NO!  If Maggie had known, she’d have prevented it. And, sure the needle hurt—but it was for Richey’s own good. It’s not the same thing. How could cancer be good? How can whatever happened to Richey be good? Death is not good! Didn’t You say, ‘I’ve come to give life? Life not death!’”

Mac waved his hands in the air and looked toward the sky. His voice weak, about to break, “We don’t know the future, we’re just people—just stupid people…not God. Not eternal, not omniscient, omnipresent or omnipotent. I couldn’t help Mags…or Richey. I’m just a man.”

A single cry fell from his lips and he went to his knees, his hands clamped together and hung in front of him, his head tilted back facing the sky. Silence ruled for several moments. Mac listened to his racing, breaking heart. “I just don’t understand.”

One question rose to the top of a million others fighting for his attention. The Voice that asked the question was filled with compassion.

How can a man who doesn’t understand, blame a God who does?

Line by line slapped his soul, like waves against the boat…

It’s not My will that any should perish.

Life is a vapor.

The thief comes to kill steal and destroy.

There is none righteous, no not one.

My ways are not your ways.

Trust Me

Mac knew two things: the words rolling through his mind were from somewhere in the Bible, thanks to Maggie, insisting he make Bible reading a daily routine; and he was exhausted.

He poured himself onto the starboard bench. Folded his hands behind his head and stared straight into the sky. He tried to see through the clouds through the blue, through the solar system and into heaven—where Maggie was. 

Instead, all the scenes and questions rolled through his mind again—sailing with Richey, the Navy, the nail, the tetanus shot, Maggie. Mac watched the clouds; each one held a memory of Richey and Mags. But then, a vapor trail from a jet snaked into view. It floated like a water snake slithering across the sky. 

That’s when it hit him.

The venom that had bitten his wife and son happened not recently, but many years ago, back in a garden, where the world was right and good—God declared it very good and said, “I made this just for you, take the wheel.”

Mac let out a deep breath and shook his head. “But we handed the wheel to the snake…and now this.”

He pictured his wife and son.

Pain pierced its dagger one more time, but it was losing its sting.

Mac remembered Maggie’s plea, as he lifted his eyes toward heaven and his hands in surrender. “Alright, Captain Jesus, take the wheel—help me, to stay the course.”

The dagger dissolved and a gentle peace flooded his soul.

The circumstances didn’t change one bit—but Mac did. He knew that no matter what, somehow, he was going to make it through this storm. Without making a conscious effort, Mac did what he’d always done—what he’d taught Richey to do when adrift and lost at sea—look for and hold onto, what’s stable.

Although he knew there was an ocean full of things he didn’t understand; he knew God was the anchor for his soul—and he’d see his Maggie again.

And that was enough.

Above story is an excerpt from, The Voice.