My mom looks for Reasons the way some people look for spare change on the ground. She always has an eye out for them, an ear cocked to hear the faintest whisper of a consequence or a lesson. Most are simple illustrations of basic character: an irritating person placed in my life is meant to teach me patience; a flat tire following an unrelated, stingy financial decision is a reminder to be more generous; an unexpected piece of good news is an example of God's consistent goodness. Some links are easy to see and understand. Others are not.
I grew up listening to these narratives, and the concept of Reasons has always influenced my thinking. But as I grew older, reason began to challenge the Reasons. I began to wonder if such rationalizations were merely the innate coping mechanisms by which all people learn to make sense of an otherwise haphazard world, how we maintain hope in the face of difficult situations.
It started with the big questions. Were people really poor because they were lazy? Was HIV really God's punishment to homosexuals? Was evolution really at odds with Christianity? And of course, the biggest of them all: is there a Reason for suffering?
For nearly each of these questions, I found the answer to be, "Perhaps, but not always. Perhaps, but not necessarily." My mom and I would go through endless cycles of arguments, many of them heated and bitter. Sometimes I held on to prove a point, but sometimes I fought out of sheer stubbornness and pride. I was challenging the Reasons because I began to doubt that there were any.
Post a Comment