Why Sandy Hook?

woman crying hysterically

Ever since news broke of the shooting at Sandy Hook Elementary School, I’ve been a mess.  God, why?  They were so little, so helpless – lambs slaughtered by a depraved, evil young man.  Why, God?  Why did you not intervene?

Sandy Hook

That’s the question being asked everywhere.  No sooner had the shock of the horror worn off then the quest for answers began.  Including me.  It is my nature, my old woman, to look for knowledge as the answer to all.  If I knew why, then I could take steps to make myself, and those I love, safe.  If I knew why, then I’d have a place to point my rage and unleash it.  I wouldn’t be lost and floundering.  I wouldn’t be helpless and vulnerable to evil.  If I just knew why . . .

I don’t have answers for you, by the way.  That’s not the point of this post.  This is my personal dealing with God – no more, no less.

My grief over this massacre has been huge.  I have nephews whom I love, and I can’t bear even the imagined anguish of these parents and grandparents, aunts and uncles, brothers and sisters.  But my rage over this incident fairly eclipsed my grief.  Nothing righteous about it.  Just plain hate.

I wanted to make that monster suffer.  An eternity in hell wasn’t enough, I wanted vengeance.  Part of me enjoyed nursing that hate, because it felt like I was at least doing something.  So all that hate built up until it nearly suffocated me.  I couldn’t sleep, I was edgy, and I really didn’t want to take it to God.  This morning I finally broke and faced the truth: I was mad at Him.

It all just poured out of me, four days of poison and rage and grief and fear.  Why?  Will you at least tell me why?  Don’t you know what they’re saying about you?  How could a good and just God allow children to be murdered so mercilessly?  You let evil win!  He murdered and murdered and then shot himself – He got away with it!  What the hell?!  What possible plan does this fit into?  WHY?!  Well, I didn’t get an answer to my question.  I was brought to a crossroad instead.  It is ever more familiar to me, because God brings me to it again and again and again.

Romans 9: 20-21 HCSB
But who are you, a mere man, to talk back to God?
Will what is formed say to the one who formed it,
“Why did you make me like this?”
Or has the potter no right over the clay,
to make from the same lump one piece of pottery for honor
and another for dishonor?

Will I surrender my demand to KNOW, and say yes to the All-Knowing God?  Will I surrender my mind and BELIEVE that He is Who He says He is?  Am I willing to be a fool to all the world in being His?

This morning, I cried and yelled and cursed and wrestled and cried some more as I poured it all out to my Father.  Then I said yes to all He is and does and doesn’t do.  I asked forgiveness for my hate and bloodlust.  And though I have no answers, I do now have the peace that passes understanding.  I have Him.


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