When You Don’t Understand God
I didn’t understand what God was doing when my wife had her first miscarriage. I didn’t understand the years of infertility that followed and remain. I didn’t understand when my friend, with four children and a pregnant wife, died of brain cancer. I didn’t understand why I had to hold my friend’s stillborn baby in my arms. And I don’t understand the countless unanswered prayers for me, our church, and others that seem like they would be the best outcome. Good things. Bible things. God-honoring desires. I don’t understand. I’m sure you have your own list and have felt this perplexity and pain many times.
Here's what I do understand: God’s ways are often hard to understand.
I’m not saying this means he is doing something wrong. It just means we are often aching for answers that God doesn’t always provide. Where do you turn when you don’t understand what God is doing? What do you do when you just can’t make sense of God’s love with the way life is turning out? The Psalms are the trusted guide God gives in our struggle. They give voice to our pain, and a clear path through the fog. Psalm 131 has been particularly helpful for me; Spurgeon said, “It is one of the shortest Psalms to read, but one of the longest to learn” (Spurgeon, The Treasury of David: Psalms 120-150, 136).
In only three verses, David shows us our common temptation, a better posture, and how we join in ministering to others.
Our Temptation: Proud Eyes, Noisy Hearts
O Lord, my heart is not lifted up; my eyes are not raised too high; I do not occupy myself with things too great and too marvelous for me (Ps. 131:1).
David starts by telling God what he refuses to do. But, he’s not naming a random action he has refrained from, he is stating the pressing temptation he actively resists. It is the same consistent inner pull we all experience when life confuses us: Pride. It doesn’t feel like pride, it feels like pain. But the temptation is to believe we have more control than we do. We do not believe things are too great or marvelous for us. Our minds and hearts are occupied. We want to manufacture outcomes: If I do the right things, then the right things will happen. If I eat right, raise my kids right, lead right, speak right, invest right, then it will lead to predictable results. The temptation to believe these things can be harder the longer you’ve been a Christian. We feel we have an honorable track record of faithfulness that has earned us the outcomes we expect from God. Because our lives have been obedient, our prayers persistent, and our actions diligent, we may conclude God is unjust or unloving if he withholds.
In pride, we are also tempted to believe the mysterious, providential working of God is ours to understand - that we are owed an explanation. We call out, “Why, God?”. Why are you saying no? Why this sickness? Why this loss? Why are others blessed and not me? We imagine that if we were in charge, we would do it differently (and better). If our circumstances don’t make sense then God must be doing something wrong, or at the very least need to offer a defense for his actions that we can reasonably evaluate.
The Bible doesn’t shy away from honest questions. The Psalter is full of “How long, O Lord?” and “Why?” But Psalm 131 warns that pride hardens difficulty into control and confusion into entitlement. When we put ourselves in a position only God truly occupies, our hearts clamor. Our soul grows noisy. Our mind becomes busy with comparisons, replaying conversations, rewriting outcomes, beating ourselves up with what we should have done differently, imagining what might have been, and fearing what might be. Noise.
A Better Posture: A Weaned Child with Its Mother
But I have calmed and quieted my soul, like a weaned child with its mother; like a weaned child is my soul within me (Ps. 131:2).
A calm and quiet soul. This is what we want yet find so elusive. How do we get this? David gives a helpful image. A nursing infant comes to its mother primarily for what she can give, milk. It cries out, squirms, and fusses until it gets what it wants. But a weaned child has a different posture. It no longer comes crying for something that the mother can give, but rather comes simply to be with its mother, nuzzled in the comfort of her presence. There is no fuss or struggle, only rest and satisfaction.
So too with God, we can cry out to God to give us an explanation, the justification for his decisions, the mysterious lesson he is teaching us, or the outcome we are seeking. But the quiet, matured soul comes to enjoy God. As John Collins says, “the faithful worshiper is content with God’s presence, even when there are many things he would like God to explain.” (Collins, “The Psalms,” 633). This is where God is moving us. He wants you to come to him, enjoy him, and be comforted, not with his answers but with his presence. We don’t come only to get from God; we come to be with God. He is the comfort. He is the gift. This doesn’t silence lament or requests for God to intervene; it quiets the unrest and discontent that demands from God.
If you have unanswered questions, frustrations, or discouragement about areas in your life, what can you do? David acknowledges the temptation to pride, but instead he calms and quiets his soul. It didn’t happen passively; he took initiative. In this Psalm he doesn’t specifically spell out the action he took. But we see two important clues. First, this is a Psalm of Ascent, prayed as God’s people ascended the hill to worship at the temple. His eyes are fixed on the presence of God. He remembers that God dwells with his people, keeps covenant, and provides sacrifice for sin so that loving fellowship with him is secure. He is remembering these truths on his way to worship with God’s people. Second, he is talking to God. He is not bottling up his thoughts; he’s pouring his heart out to God. He is casting all his anxieties on the Lord because he knows God cares for him.
If we want this type of soul rest, we must learn to quiet ourselves in the same ways. We must fix our eyes on Jesus, remembering his character, gather with his people in worship to rehearse these together, and bring our hearts to God in prayer.
Our Ministry: A Call to Hope
O Israel, hope in the Lord from this time forth and forevermore (Ps. 131:3).
As many of us have experienced, our own suffering opens the door to others who are suffering. When we share our struggles, we find others in the same place. God intends to work through this. David moves outward, not to scold others who struggle, but to invite them to the same rest: “Hope in the Lord.” Our hope is not the certainty that we will receive our preferred outcome. Rather it is a settled confidence in God’s unchanging character, his wisdom, goodness, and power—often in the very circumstances that refuse to turn out how we had planned.
As David comforted with the comfort he had received, our greatest misery can become our greatest ministry. There are a thousand things God is doing in every situation we face that we may never know. But one thing we can be sure of is that our suffering is never wasted; God is always strengthening us that we may be a source of strength for others. As David calls out to Israel, we can call out to those around us. We can sit beside friends in their questions without forcing quick fixes. We can testify, with gentleness and honesty, how God has met us in the middle of our trials. And we can share the ways we continue to rely on him and re-experience his steadfast love in the midst of lingering difficulty.
There are so many things we don’t understand. I have to confess that I still find God’s ways confusing at times. But here’s what I do understand: God may not explain himself, but he always gives himself. Our call is not to understand, but it is to come. Can’t see the path? Jesus is the Way. Filled with questions? He is the Truth. Weary and worn? He is the Life (John 14:6). Your hope is not in peering behind the curtain of providence or controlling all the circumstances. Your hope is in trusting that you are his child, and he is with you. He is your hope today. And he will continue to be our hope tomorrow and every tomorrow after. Forevermore.