I wrote a blog a while back called, “Adoption and some Ice Cream.”   I had a radical experience three years ago this month, where God revealed to me what the scripture talks about, “The Spirit of Adoption.”

Growing up with a abusive earthly father, I am learning what it means to have a relationship with a loving and caring heavenly Father. I am also learning how to be a daughter.  A big part of being a child in a healthy father/daughter relationship, is good and safe communication, openness, and a solid knowing that I am loved and accepted no matter what~ unconditional love.

I was taught, and continued to be told with good intension, that I am not to question God. That we have no right to ask or to inquire into the ways of God with humankind.  That I should not to try and understand God, but submit and accept silently what happens in life, without a word or a murmur.  After all, there are scriptures that can be perceived in this way,  “His ways are not our ways.” Can the potter say to the clay, why have you made me this way?”  “Who is His counselor?”

There is a wisdom down this road of unquestioning resignation. The trouble is, it is not a Christian wisdom, and in fact it is a denial of the heart of our faith. To put it bluntly, this sort of silent submission undermines the most precious dimension of our existence; namely, our personhood. It reduces all of life to a mechanical power transaction. To be sure, a leaf submits to the wind without saying a word, a rock allows the flood water to do whatever it pleases without murmur, but are these appropriate analogies for a relationship between God and human beings? The One who moves through the pages of scriptures is a Being of love, “a Father who pitieth his children” rather than a Force who knocks about a lot of helpless objects.  And of course, words and questions and dialogue back and forth are at the heart of the way that persons- especially parents and children- ought to relate. John R. Claypool

Where as children of God, did we ever think that we must not question God or have a right to pour our heart and soul out to Him and ask, “Why?” Even Jesus cried out from the Cross, “My God, My God! Why have you forsaken Me?”

To not ask, to not engage in questions, and conversation, and to accept silent resignation, is to walk away from the healthy father daughter relationship I was made to have. My questions are a real and huge part of me in the loss of my son. To suppress them by bowing mechanically to a superior Force is an affront not only to God and to my own nature, but also to the kind of relationship I am supposed to have. I have to submit and accept what has happened, and I know my son is with my Father in Heaven. But I believe that I honor God by continuing to ask Him why. To continue to press in to Him with tears and a crying out, “Papa, give me understanding.  I need you to show up and speak to me. Why is my son gone, and my mother’s heart ripped in two?” Rather than resign myself like a leaf or a rock.  I am made in His image. I am his daughter. He made me this way and wants all of me, even the darkest parts I want to hide.

I look back on the timing of the revelation of me being adopted.  I needed that new beginning three years ago. I desperately needed to understand the radical love, care and compassion of a Father, before this hour would come upon me. And as a mother myself, I am never insulted or put off by my child’s pain and honest questions of why.  I gladly invite and encourage them. I want more than anything, to stay close and engage their whole being, for the hope of deep relationship, healing and restoration.

How much more does my Father God have the desire and relentless love to handle me and all of our questions of why.