Why God? And… Why, God?

It’s interesting what a little comma can do.

“Why God?” and “Why, God?” contain the same words, in the same order. But sit with them for a moment, and they can take us into very different conversations.

Why God? Why make God the center of our lives? Why give our time, our talents, and so much of ourselves to serving Him and His people?

And then there’s the other question.

Why, God? Why is this so difficult? Why isn’t this working? Why have You brought me here, given me this desire to serve, and then left me wondering what I’m supposed to do with it?

I think a life of ministry brings us back to both questions. Sometimes within the same afternoon.

For those of us who are lay people, these questions find their way into a life already filled with responsibilities. We have jobs, families, bills, relationships, and people who need us at home. Some of us work for the Church. Others volunteer in a parish, serve in a food pantry, visit someone who is alone, or simply try to bring a little patience and compassion into the places where we spend our days.

And somewhere in all of that, we’re trying to be faithful.

We’re trying to understand what God is asking of us… and how to respond with what we actually have to offer.

So, why God?

I suppose we could begin with the answers we learned growing up. Because He created us. Because He loves us. Because we are called to love Him and one another. All true. But there comes a point when those answers have to become personal.

What does that love have to do with the way I live on a Tuesday morning?

For me, that is where Carmelite spirituality brings the question close to home. It invites us to become attentive to the presence of God in the life we are already living. To slow down enough to notice. To listen. To allow our relationship with Him to shape how we see the person in front of us.

And that changes the meaning of service.

The person asking for help has a name, a history, a dignity that exists long before we arrive with whatever we think they need. As we become more attentive to God, we may become more willing to hear that person. We may even discover that the most useful thing we can offer is different from what we had planned.

Of course, listening takes time. And we generally have a schedule.

There’s the challenge.

It’s possible to become so busy doing the work of ministry that we give very little attention to the relationship that drew us into it. Prayer becomes something we’ll get back to once everything settles down.

And everything has a remarkable ability to never quite settle down.

Carmel invites us to return to that relationship throughout the day. A few quiet moments before opening the email. An honest prayer before a difficult conversation. Time with Scripture. Bringing the people we have encountered into our prayer, and allowing what happens in prayer to influence how we encounter them tomorrow.

Sometimes the prayer is simply, “God, help me listen.”

Sometimes it’s, “I could have handled that better.”

And sometimes… “Why, God?”

Why does someone who has already suffered so much have to face this, too? Why do sincere efforts fall apart? Why is there tension among people who all believe they are serving You? How can someone feel empty even when doing something that matters so much to them?

That comma makes the question personal. We are speaking to Someone.

Even in frustration, even when we’re unsure what we believe about the situation, we are bringing ourselves into the relationship. There can be faith in that. There can be prayer in a question we would hesitate to say aloud in church.

God can receive an honest conversation.

I think we sometimes forget that when we serve in ministry. We feel a responsibility to be encouraging, to have perspective, to help other people trust. And gradually we begin to imagine that we should have fewer questions ourselves.

But accompanying another person does not require us to have resolved every difficulty in our own relationship with God. It does require some honesty about what we can offer. There are moments when we can sit beside someone and say, “I don’t understand this either. But I’m here.”

And then stay.

Teresa of Avila helps me think about that kind of faithfulness through her understanding of prayer as conversation with a friend… as taking time to be with the One we know loves us. There is something reassuring about that. We can have an honest conversation with a friend. We can admit that we’re tired, disappointed, or unsure of what to do next. We don’t have to arrive with everything sorted out or find the proper words before we begin. And we make room to listen, too.

That friendship carries into the way we serve. We bring God what happened today… the conversation that troubled us, the person we couldn’t help, the moment we wish we could do over… and allow that time with Him to shape how we return tomorrow. We may have very little power to change someone’s circumstances. We can still give them our attention. We can follow through on a promise. We can do the necessary work with care, even when nobody will know who did it. Those ordinary moments become places where our friendship with God finds expression in love for another person.

For a lay person, those opportunities extend well beyond an assigned ministry. Our baptismal calling goes with us into our homes, our workplaces, our friendships, and the decisions we make when nobody is watching.

The people at home deserve the same gentleness we try to offer the people at church. That can be an uncomfortable examination of conscience.

So can recognizing that we have limits.

A life of service needs room for rest, family, prayer, and receiving care ourselves. Sometimes discerning what God asks of us means admitting that we cannot take on one more thing. Sometimes it means allowing someone else to help. The community we serve may also be the community through which God cares for us.

We belong within that circle of care.

And perhaps that brings the two questions together.

Why God? Because His love gives direction to the life we are living and invites us to share that love with the people entrusted to us.

Why, God? Because living that invitation can be confusing, painful, and demanding, and we need somewhere to bring all of it.

We will probably keep asking both.

There will be days when service feels natural and prayer comes easily. There will be days when we have to begin again after being impatient, distracted, or far too certain of ourselves. And there will be days when we sit quietly with God, with very little to say.

We can bring Him those days, too.

“Why, God? I don’t quite understand where this is going. Help me see what love asks of me today.”

And then give Him enough quiet to listen.