Home / Inspira-torials / Why Everything Does NOT Happen For A Reason

Why Everything Does NOT Happen For A Reason

Originally published on johnpavlovitz.com

That phrase.

We’ve all received it personally gift wrapped, by well-meaning friends, caring loved ones, and kind strangers. It usually comes delivered with the most beautiful of intentions; a buffer of hope raised in the face of the unimaginably painful things we sometimes experience in this life.

It’s a close, desperate lifeline thrown out to us when all other words fail:

Everything happens for a reason.

I’ve never had a tremendous amount of peace with the sentiment. I think it gives the terrible stuff too much power, too much poetry; as if there must be nobility and purpose within the brutal devastation we may find ourselves sitting in. In our profound distress, this idea forces us to run down dark, twisted rabbit trails, looking for the specific part of The Greater Plan that this suffering all fits into.

It serves as an emotional distraction, one that cheats us out of the full measure of our real-time grief and outrage. We stutter and stop to try and find the why’s of all of the suffering, instead of just admitting that maybe there is no why to be found and that perhaps this all simply sucks on a grand scale. Feel permission to fully acknowledge that profound suckness.

Any even if somewhere beneath all of it; far below all the dizzying trauma that we experience here there is a fixed redemptive reason for it all, it’s one that will likely remain well beyond our understanding so long as we inhabit flesh and blood.

Deep within the background operating system of my faith there’s a buried, fiercely protected trust in a God who is good and in an existence that matters. But this core truth doesn’t come with the assumption that all things, (including all the horrors we might encounter here), have a purpose. It doesn’t come with a hidden silver lining always knitted into the fabric somewhere, if only we can uncover it.

To believe that, is to risk painting the picture of a God who is making us suffer for sport; throwing out obstacle and injury and adversity just to see what we’ll do, just to toughen us up or break us down. I find it hard to reconcile that with the necessary belief in a God who is not out to squash me.

It’s exhausting enough to endure the dark hours here and not lose our religion, without the addition of a Maker who also makes us bleed. Instead, I prefer to understand God as One who bleeds along with us; Who sits with us in our agony and weeps, not causing us our distress but providing a steady, holy presence in it. This still leaves me with the nagging question of why this God can’t or won’t always remove these burdens from me, but it does allow me to better see the open opportunity provided in tragedy.

There’s an oft-misused excerpt from a pastor’s letter to his faith community found in Scripture, where the author Paul writes:

‘And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.’ Romans 8:28

This isn’t a Heavenly insurance policy paid with faith and exempting us from anything unpleasant, but the promise that if we choose to respond to all things from a place of love and goodness; that we, not necessarily our circumstances will be better for it.

In this way, I believe in suffering as a sacred space; one where we get to choose.

It’s not a supernatural cause-and-effect experiment from the sky, specifically designed to do something to us or in us, but it is a time and place where we can respond and as we do, we are altered. Our pain does not have a predetermined purpose, (otherwise we would be straddled with the terribly complicated task of figuring it out in a billion small decisions every single day), but that pain will always yield valuable fruit.

As much as I hate to admit it, my times of deepest anguish have almost always been the catalyst for my greatest learning, but I could have easily learned different lessons had I chosen differently. Yes, I certainly grew tremendously in those trying times, but I could have grown in another direction altogether with another choice. In that way, those moments of devastation held no single, microscopic needle-in-the-haystack truth to hunt for while I grieved and struggled, but there was still treasure to be found in the making of my choices and in their ripples.

No I don’t believe that everything happens for a reason, but I do believe there is meaning in how we respond to all things that happen to us, even when they are not at all good things.

Be encouraged as you suffer and choose.

 


About shakespeareanwalter

Walt Shakes(@Walt_Shakes) is an award-winning Nigerian writer, poet and veteran blogger. He is a lover of the written word. the faint whiff of nature, the flashing vista of movies, the warmth of companionship and the happy sound of laughter.

Check Also

“I Will Fight For You But…” The Shame Of The LGBT Activist

“I will fight for you. But in return, you must never be free enough to ...

15 comments

  1. That Sunday spice…..true, that phrase often serves as a form of ‘surrender’ to Life’s punches.

  2. The 7th paragraph… 🙂

  3. Do i still have to go to church after reading this?

    i don’t think so.

    There is a thin line of choose and learn

    God has never promised a bed of roses, but why wouldn’t he?

    Not everything has got a reason ‘a philosophy of hope that has become Nigeria’s opium through trial times to strongly hold on to the incomprehensible God’

    I truly like this one Watlz. Your choice of words in every line is admirable and the underlying message priceless in every way

  4. Everything happens for a reason.
    I see it mostly as a form of consolation.

  5. Love love love this… Billion likes.. Keep it coming..

  6. perfect sermon for a Sunday. no more church today

  7. Well…..
    Everything happens for a reason is a reason

    It’s more of an excuse than a reason tho, why we should accept bad circumstances with smiling faces

  8. Oh John Pavlovits, you better not come to Nigeria or you’ll have a brain aneurysm. Down here, that statement is our mantra.

  9. good one..

  10. I understand your point. But somehow, that phrase has had its way of giving hope when I want to give up. And I’ve sure seen sceneries where really some things happened for a reason.

  11. I so love this, loving it is an understatement.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *