When Children Ask Hard Questions
Questions, so many questions. That’s how it is with children. One of our toddler’s favorite games is “What’s this?” She points, and her siblings answer “vase” or “rug.” It’s fun and usually easy to play when children are young.
But I’m learning that the game gets harder to play as our little people and their questions mature. It isn't enough to know what something is or when we’ll arrive to our destination. They want to know why. Why can’t I? Why did she? Last week, my young son asked one of the hardest questions yet: Why me?
Why am I the one who got a splinter? The one who broke his elbow? The one with this diagnosis?
Why am I the one who got a splinter? The one who broke his elbow? The one with this diagnosis?
"Why me" is an honest question that can lead down so many paths. My heart pumps with fear as I think of some of the paths where this question has led me that I don’t want my son to have to travel. I want to protect him from why me that leads to self-pity and why me that leads to victimization.
It wasn’t a question to brush under the carpet, and my mind raced to possible answers as I silently prayed for discernment. I needed wisdom because immediately I had my own questions. How much do I share with a child? How much truth can he handle?
I wrestled with how to answer, knowing that this was the first time but probably not the last time my son will ask me this hard question. What God reminded me was that in my own seasons of suffering and asking "Why?," although he hasn't always answered my question, he has repeatedly revealed more of his love and faithfulness. As God has done for me, I desire to help my children switch their focus from questioning God's ways to knowing him better in their suffering, to move from "why" to "who."
I want to validate my children's suffering, teach them how to apply the theology of a broken, sinful world, and weep with them over it. But when they're young and their attention span is limited, they usually aren't asking for an hour-long lecture, or even a fifteen minute one. A sentence or two is sufficient. When we as parents only get a couple sentences, and when the answers to the why questions aren't clear, one thing we can do is lead our children to Jesus.
I wrestled with how to answer, knowing that this was the first time but probably not the last time my son will ask me this hard question. What God reminded me was that in my own seasons of suffering and asking "Why?," although he hasn't always answered my question, he has repeatedly revealed more of his love and faithfulness. As God has done for me, I desire to help my children switch their focus from questioning God's ways to knowing him better in their suffering, to move from "why" to "who."
I want to validate my children's suffering, teach them how to apply the theology of a broken, sinful world, and weep with them over it. But when they're young and their attention span is limited, they usually aren't asking for an hour-long lecture, or even a fifteen minute one. A sentence or two is sufficient. When we as parents only get a couple sentences, and when the answers to the why questions aren't clear, one thing we can do is lead our children to Jesus.
Even our youngest ones need a handle to hold onto when life’s hills are steep. Maybe we can't tell them why the hill is steep, but we can tell them about Jesus, the one who is ready to travel with them on paths surrounded by brambles and thorns. We can proclaim the Savior who wore a crown of thorns to rescue them not from those paths but on them.
We can't anticipate when the conversations will come, and we depend on God's Spirit to give us his words when they do. We follow up with our children later if we feel like we were unclear, in case they have more questions, or to ask if they want to talk more. Ultimately, we commit each conversation to God. We do our best and trust his Spirit to work, filling in our parenting gaps.
In the meantime, as parents we can take comfort and take note that these two-sentence theology lessons that cut to our hearts, while poignant ones which pull back the curtain between earth and heaven, are part of a much bigger picture. Our children's understanding of God, his character, and his Word don't depend on us having exactly the right words when the hard questions come.
Our children learn line by line, day by day, just as we do. It all adds up over time as we teach them the gospel and live it in front of them. Each conversation, each time we open the Bible and read it with them, each worship service we attend: they all add up. So we point our children to Jesus when they ask the significant questions, but really we can point them to Jesus all the time.
The words that flow easily from my fingers when I type seem to flee when I look in my children's eyes. I love them so much. I want all their paths to be smooth. And it’s taken me years to get from why to who.
When my son asked me why, I answered him as best as I could, however feebly, because he was asking, and because he was asking me. Each time my children ask, however feeble I feel, I pray that I’ll be faithful to point them to Jesus.