the beauty of "why"

(This post is a bit more philosophical than most . . . enjoy . . . )

Once Gemma passed her third birthday, it was like a switch flipped on in her little mind and everything was “why?”  Her little cousin who is ten months older had gone through exactly this stage and it was kind of funny to see Gemma mirroring her so precisely.  It was also a bit annoying, to be honest!  “Why is it Tuesday?”  “Why is her name ___?” The worst moments came when I would try to curtail the questioning by including the reason in my statement to begin with, and it was as if it didn’t matter one bit.  “We’re going to hold hands to be safe.”  “Why?” “To be safe.  That was the reason.”  “Why?” I thought I’d mentally prepared myself for the “Why is the sky blue?” stage, but I was finding these questions not only baffling but wearing.  I wanted to honor her curiosity with answers, though there were times when we just had to put a stop to it.  Some of the questions got me thinking, though, and ended up being very beautiful. 

I remember the day at the dinner table that Gemma first asked “Why do we say ‘in Jesus name’ when we pray?”  After some thought, John came up with this catechistic response:  “Well, Gemma, there are three reasons really.  Can you repeat them after me?  The first is that God is very holy.  The second is that we are not holy.  And the third is that Jesus brings our prayers to God.”  After that, she would often ask “Why do we pray in Jesus’ name?” and I think it was just so that she could hear this simple doctrine reinforced.

“Please keep your teacups on the carpet, so they won’t break on the tile.  “Why?” “Carpet is soft, and if the teacups fall, they will probably be fine.  But the tile is very hard and could break your teacups if they fall on it.” “Why is carpet soft?” Sometimes when the question “why?” seemed pointless, I’d be tempted to respond with “It just is.  There isn’t really a reason.” Usually it started with a “normal” three-year-old “why?” and the string just continued as she questioned every answer.  But our three-year-old had stumbled into world-view stuff, and I’m thankful that my mathematical side started to resurface in answers like this:  “Some things are true by definition.  You can’t prove anything without starting somewhere, without assuming a few basic facts.  We start with the assumptions that God exists and that He has revealed Himself to us in His Word.”  At this point, John would start to roll his eyes because my words were clearly over Gemma’s head.  But they are principles of reasoning which I hope will stick with her when she is older.

Other times, our conversations went more like this:  “Why is Snow White’s dress blue on the top and yellow on the bottom?”  “Well, Gemma, that’s because whoever drew her like that—probably Walt Disney—decided that those would be nice colors for her dress.”  “Why?”  “Well, I don’t know, but the one who designs something gets to choose!  When you draw your own pictures, you get to decide what they will look like.”  But there was something deeper here than drawing.  The one who designs gets to choose.  She gets to decide on the ins-and-outs of what she designs.  He gets to make the rules for His creations.  This is not only a logical conclusion, but it is also underscored in the Bible in such passages as Romans 9. 

As I ponder the major internal struggles of our culture today, I think that this concept lies at the root.  As a nation, we’ve hallowed “freedom of choice” from the very beginning.  I’m not saying that this is entirely wrong; it led to a nation free from the tyranny of Britain and look how many incredible things have happened in this unique, prosperous country to this day.  But I think that we have our major struggles because some value freedom of choice higher than God and His designs for us.  Usually we get along all right because most people will stomp on the inclinations of their hearts if acting on them would harm someone else.  (We basically all agree that cruelty is wrong, right?)  But some of us also believe that God created us, and the one who designs gets to choose.  He gives us the freedom to make choices, which is great, but He also has a guidebook—and it is so much more than a guidebook; it is the great story of His plan to rescue His people from sin through the blood of Jesus Christ—but it is a guidebook nonetheless.  He tells us in His book that the tiniest human being has been knit together by His loving hand and is known to Him, and that’s why some of us counter “a woman’s right to choose” with “well, wait a minute, you can’t choose if you’re hurting someone else.”  The Designer set the laws of science, physics and mathematics into place, and what a joy it is to discover them.  The Designer put together our bodies and gave us a thirst for knowledge.  He made the rules for morality, and how we spend some of our money, and for sexuality, and told us, “No, you don’t get to choose that, either.  I’ve already chosen how it works best and you need to trust Me.”  To assert otherwise is just as silly as trying to tell Walt Disney that Snow White’s dress should be all blue, and Mickey should have been a bear instead of a mouse.

This brings us back to the teacup question--what we rely on as our basic presuppositions.  You may choose not to believe in the Creator and Designer God, and instead answer these questions with “There isn’t really a reason.”  Many do.  I think however, that if you apply this principle consistently, you will find yourself in a world of nihilism, which is hardly a satisfying one. Personally, I’m thankful that we humans have a limited freedom of thought and choice, and that our Holy Father has not left us to ourselves and our own devices.  The work of creation scientists has never held more significance in my understanding.

Now Gemma is four, and I’m relieved that the unending “why’s?” have settled down a bit.  I’m also thankful for what I learned through that season:  sometimes it is helpful and beautiful to ask those inane simple questions because of the basic truths that come to the surface when I think hard enough about the answers.  Praise God that there are answers, even when I don’t understand them.