OPENING — THE QUESTION I DON'T KNOW HOW TO ANSWER

There is a question I have been carrying that I don't know how to answer.

And tonight, I'm not going to pretend that I do.

My pastor, Ed Noble, came to Journey about a year after I started attending.

Ed baptized me.

About a year later, there came a day when I was praying one of the most serious prayers I had ever prayed:

“God…what is it You want me to do for Your Kingdom?”

I prayed about it.

I wrestled with it.

I kept asking.

And finally, I stopped praying.

Within that very hour, my phone rang.

It was Ed.

He told me he wanted me to begin the process of learning how to teach spiritual subjects in our Men's Ministry.

I was already sharing the gospel.

I wanted people to know Jesus.

But God used Ed to open another door.

Teaching.

Preaching.

Standing where I am standing tonight.

And Ed didn't just become the pastor who gave me an opportunity to teach.

Over the years, he became part of my life.

He took time and called me when I was away on business trips right when I need it. .

He encouraged me in my faith.

He supported me.

We talked at the gym.

He even came over to my house and watched Carolina beat Duke.

And I know some of you understand, for sports that is a big sports spiritual moment. Carolina -vs- Duke.

I’ve shared my Southern cooking with him, during lunch.

One day I walked in and told the receptionist:

“Mary tell Ed, Craig from the gym is here.”

Ed came out, looked at me, and said:

“Craig…I know who you are.”

It was funny.

But those are the things you remember, aren't they?

Not just the sermons.

Not just the meetings.

The phone calls.

The meals.

The jokes.

The conversations.

The ordinary moments when somebody becomes part of your life.

And now the man God used to help point me toward this calling is fighting for his life.

His heart is failing. He’s on the heart transplant list

And many of us are watching.

Hoping.

Praying.

Asking God for mercy.

And I have found myself asking God a question I don't like admitting out loud.

Why him?

Why this man?

Why my pastor?

Why the man who baptized me?

Why the man You used to call me into ministry?

Why the man who called to make sure I was okay?

Why the man who supported my faith?

Why him?

And then comes the question underneath the question.

The one that hurts even more.

Why him, Lord…and not me?

Can anybody in this room relate to that?

Maybe their name wasn't Ed.

Maybe it was your wife.

Your husband.

Your mom.

Your dad.

Your child.

Your best friend.

Maybe somebody you loved suffered terribly.

Maybe somebody died far too soon.

And somewhere inside you, whether you said it publicly or whispered it alone, you asked:

“God…why them?”

And maybe, like me, you went one step further.

“Why them…and not me?”

Because I know the man I have been.

I know my failures.

I know my sins.

I know the things God has forgiven that some of you will never know.

And I look at a faithful pastor suffering…

and then I look at myself standing here…

and somewhere inside me I want the scales to balance.

Surely this isn't fair.

Surely suffering ought to find the worse man.

Surely faithfulness ought to buy us more years.

Surely the man who has served God should somehow be protected from this.

But then I open this Book.

The Bible.

And Scripture will not let me believe that.

It shows me Job.

It shows me Paul.

It shows me the apostles.

And ultimately…

it shows me Jesus.

The only truly sinless, righteous Man who ever lived…

suffering on a cross.

So maybe the question is not:

“Why does a good man suffer while a broken man lives?”

Maybe the question is:

“What does grace mean when God never promised us a life without suffering?”

SUFFERING IS NOT GOD'S SCOREBOARD

I think one of the most natural things human beings do when suffering comes is start doing spiritual mathematics.

Good person.

Bad circumstances.

Something doesn't add up.

Bad person.

More years.

Something doesn't add up.

We want life to function like a scoreboard.

Faithfulness over here.

Years of life over there.

Good deeds here.

Protection there.

Serve God long enough…

pray faithfully enough…

love people deeply enough…

and somehow we imagine God owes us a certain result.

But Jesus confronted that way of thinking.

In John chapter 9, Jesus and His disciples encounter a man who had been blind from birth.

The disciples ask:

“Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he would be born blind?”

Do you hear their assumption?

Somebody must be responsible.

Somebody did something.

There must be an equation that explains the suffering.

Jesus answers:

“It was neither that this man sinned, nor his parents…”

Jesus refused their equation.

Then in Luke 13, people tell Jesus about Galileans whom Pilate had killed.

And Jesus asks:

“Do you think that these Galileans were worse sinners than all the other Galileans because they suffered this fate?”

His answer was:

No.

Then He mentions eighteen people who died when the tower in Siloam fell.

Were they worse offenders than everyone else in Jerusalem?

Again:

No.

Jesus destroys the idea that suffering is God's public ranking system.

And if suffering were God's scoreboard…

the cross would make absolutely no sense.

Think about it.

If righteous people were always protected from suffering…

Jesus never reaches Calvary.

If suffering always meant somebody had done something worse than everybody else…

then what do we do with Jesus?

He was sinless.

He loved perfectly.

He obeyed perfectly.

He served perfectly.

He prayed perfectly.

He healed the sick.

He fed the hungry.

He welcomed the rejected.

He touched lepers.

He forgave sinners.

And they nailed Him to a cross.

If suffering were God's scoreboard, the cross would make no sense.

The cross tells me something I desperately need to remember:

Suffering is not evidence that God loves someone less.

And a longer life is not evidence that God loves someone more.

That is hard for us.

Because we want explanations.

We want cause and effect.

We want to know why.

But Scripture gives us something deeper than a formula.

It gives us a suffering Savior.

JOB NEVER GOT THE EXPLANATION HE WANTED

Think about Job.

The Bible introduces Job as a righteous man.

And then his world collapses.

His possessions.

His children.

His health.

Gone.

His friends arrive.

And what do they do?

They try to solve him.

They essentially say:

“Job, this doesn't happen to righteous people.”

“You must have done something.”

“Confess it.”

“Fix it.”

“Then everything will make sense.”

But they were wrong.

Sometimes the worst thing we can do for a suffering person is offer an explanation God never gave us.

Sometimes the most faithful thing we can do is sit beside them.

Cry.

Pray.

Stay.

And admit:

“I don't know.”

I don't know why some people are healed and others aren't.

I don't know why one person receives another twenty years while another receives twenty days.

I don't know why one family experiences a miracle while another family stands at a graveside.

And I refuse to insult suffering by pretending I know what God has not revealed.

But there are things I do know.

I know God is good.

I know Christ entered suffering.

I know death does not have the final word.

I know Jesus rose.

And I know that nothing—not even death—can separate a believer from the love of God in Christ Jesus.

GRACE DESTROYS THE QUESTION: “WHICH ONE OF US DESERVES ANOTHER DAY?”

Now let me come back to the question I asked at the beginning.

“Why Ed…and not me?”

Do you know what is underneath that question?

I am comparing.

I am weighing.

I am saying:

“God, look at him.”

“Now look at me.”

“He deserves tomorrow more than I do.”

And from a human perspective, I understand that feeling.

I know my history.

I know where I've failed.

There are things Christ has forgiven in me that I'm ashamed ever happened.

There are moments in my life I wish I could erase.

And if I start putting Ed on one side and myself on the other…

I already know which side I think deserves more time.

But grace destroys the scale.

The Apostle Paul said in 1 Timothy 1:

“Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, among whom I am foremost.”

Paul knew his past.

He had persecuted Christians.

He had participated in the destruction of lives.

And yet God saved him.

Then Paul says something extraordinary.

He says mercy was shown to him so that Christ might demonstrate His perfect patience.

Paul looked at his continued life and didn't say:

“I deserve this.”

He said:

“This is mercy.”

And suddenly my question begins changing.

Maybe it isn't:

“Why does Ed have a failing heart while mine keeps beating?”

Maybe I need to look at my own heartbeat and say:

Grace.

Another morning?

Grace.

Another breath?

Grace.

Another chance to tell Pam I love her?

Grace.

Another opportunity to teach?

Grace.

Another conversation?

Grace.

Another chance to apologize?

Grace.

Another day to serve Christ?

Grace.

Neither Ed nor I can stand before God and say:

“You owe me tomorrow.”

Neither can you.

Neither can I.

Life is gift.

Every heartbeat is gift.

Every sunrise is gift.

Every day we have with somebody we love is gift.

And that's why loss hurts so badly.

Because the gift mattered.

DO NOT HEAR ME SAYING THE PAIN DOESN'T MATTER

I want to be very careful here.

Grace does not mean we shrug our shoulders at suffering.

It does not mean:

“Well, everybody dies.”

It does not mean we stop praying for healing.

It does not mean we pretend our hearts aren't breaking.

Jesus Himself stood outside Lazarus' tomb.

He knew exactly what He was about to do.

He knew Lazarus would walk out.

And John 11:35 still says:

“Jesus wept.”

Two words.

Maybe two of the most important words for anyone suffering.

Jesus wept.

God is not embarrassed by our tears.

Faith is not pretending something doesn't hurt.

Jesus knew resurrection was coming…

and He still cried.

So we pray for Ed.

We pray hard.

We pray boldly.

We ask God for healing.

We ask for the transplant.

We ask for strength.

We ask for more years.

We ask because Scripture tells us to ask.

And at the same time we say:

“Lord, we trust You with what we cannot control.”

That is not weak faith.

That may be some of the deepest faith we ever exercise.

3. GOD DOES NOT ALWAYS EXPLAIN SUFFERING—BUT HE ENTERED IT

This is where Christianity is completely different from a distant philosophical explanation of pain.

God didn't stay in heaven and send us an essay explaining suffering.

He came.

John says:

“The Word became flesh and dwelt among us.”

Jesus entered our world.

He became hungry.

He became tired.

He knew rejection.

He knew betrayal.

He knew grief.

He knew physical pain.

He knew what it was to watch friends abandon Him.

He knew what it was to pray in anguish.

He knew what it was to say:

“My soul is deeply grieved, to the point of death.”

And at the cross, He entered human suffering at a depth none of us can fully comprehend.

Christianity does not give me a God who shouts:

“I know suffering is hard. Good luck down there.”

Christianity gives me a God with scars.

That matters to me.

Because when I ask:

“God, do You understand what it is like to watch somebody You love suffer?”

The cross says:

Yes.

When I ask:

“Do You understand grief?”

Jesus at Lazarus' tomb says:

Yes.

When I ask:

“Do You understand physical agony?”

Calvary says:

Yes.

When I ask:

“Do You understand feeling alone?”

Gethsemane says:

Yes.

God does not always explain suffering.

But He does something astonishing.

He enters it.

4. PAUL PRAYED FOR THE SUFFERING TO LEAVE

The Apostle Paul knew this conflict.

In 2 Corinthians 12 he talks about what he calls a thorn in the flesh.

We don't know precisely what it was.

But we know he wanted it gone.

Paul says:

“Concerning this I pleaded with the Lord three times that it might leave me.”

Paul prayed.

And God said no.

Let that sit for a moment.

One of the greatest servants of Christ in history prayed for relief…

and God's answer was not the answer Paul requested.

But God did answer.

He said:

“My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness.”

Notice what God did not say.

He did not say:

“Paul, stop asking.”

He did not shame him for wanting relief.

He gave Paul something deeper.

“My grace will hold you where My will has not removed the suffering.”

I don't know what God will do with Ed's heart.

I hope He heals him.

I pray He heals him.

I hope a donor heart becomes available.

I hope Ed has many more years.

I hope we laugh again.

I hope I get another chance to bring him food and tell the receptionist:

“Craig from the gym is here.”

I want that.

And I'm going to keep praying for that.

But my faith cannot rest only on God doing what I want.

Because eventually every believer has to reach the place where we say:

“God, I trust Your heart even when I cannot understand Your hand.”

5. “WHY HIM?” MAY NOT BE THE ONLY QUESTION

And this is where this sermon has been turning inside me.

I keep asking:

“Why Ed?”

Maybe God never gives me that answer.

Maybe there are some whys we carry all the way into eternity.

But there is another question God has already answered.

“Craig, what are you going to do with the life I have given you?”

That question I can answer.

Remember where I started tonight.

I had been praying:

“God, what do You want me to do for Your Kingdom?”

And within the hour…

Ed called.

Think about that.

The man whose suffering now makes me ask why I'm still here…

is one of the men God used to tell me what to do while I am here.

Maybe I don't need to spend the rest of my life asking:

“Why wasn't it me?”

Maybe I need to spend whatever life I have left saying:

“Since I am here, Lord, use me.”

Maybe one of the greatest ways I can honor my pastor is not by feeling guilty that my heart is beating.

Maybe it is by faithfully using those heartbeats.

Ed called me because he believed I could learn to teach.

He encouraged me.

He opened a door.

He helped place something in my hands.

I cannot trade places with him.

I cannot negotiate years with God.

I cannot give him my heartbeat.

But I can carry the torch he helped place in my hand.

And that question doesn't belong only to me.

It belongs to every person in this room.

If God gave you today, what are you going to do with it?

WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?

Some of you are waiting to live until everything settles down.

When the kids are older.

When retirement comes.

When finances improve.

When the marriage gets easier.

When you're less busy.

When you feel more spiritual.

When you're finally ready.

But you don't possess tomorrow.

James says:

“You do not know what your life will be like tomorrow. For you are just a vapor that appears for a little while, and then vanishes away.”

That's not meant to terrify the believer.

It's meant to awaken us.

You have today.

Love today.

Forgive today.

Serve today.

Say you're sorry today.

Call your son today.

Call your father today.

Tell your wife you love her today.

Tell somebody about Jesus today.

Use the gift today.

Take the step today.

Stop assuming God owes you enough tomorrows to eventually become obedient.

Maybe some of us have confused God's patience with a guarantee of time.

It isn't.

THE QUESTION BEHIND THE QUESTION

So tonight I began with:

“Why him, Lord?”

And I'm still asking it.

I'm not going to stand here and pretend I've conquered that question.

I haven't.

I love my pastor.

I don't want to lose him.

And if God gave me a button tonight that guaranteed Ed another twenty healthy years…

I would push it.

But I don't have that button.

What I have is faith.

What I have is hope.

What I have is Scripture.

What I have is Christ.

And what I have is today.

So maybe underneath:

“Why him?”

there is another question:

“What will I do with the life God has entrusted to me?”

Maybe instead of survivor's guilt…

there can be stewardship.

Instead of:

“Why am I still here?”

we can ask:

“Lord, since I am still here, what do You want from me?”

Instead of wasting another day trying to balance a scale grace already destroyed…

we can place our lives on the altar.

6. DEATH DOES NOT GET THE LAST WORD

There is one more thing I have to say.

Because if this sermon stopped with:

“Use your time wisely because you're going to die…”

that isn't the gospel.

Jesus didn't merely teach us how to make good use of a short life.

Jesus defeated death.

At Lazarus' tomb, Jesus said to Martha:

“I am the resurrection and the life; the one who believes in Me will live, even if he dies.”

Notice He didn't say:

“I know something about resurrection.”

He said:

“I AM the resurrection.”

Christian hope is not ultimately that we get another twenty years.

We pray for those years.

We treasure those years.

But our final hope is bigger.

Our hope is Christ.

Paul says:

“To live is Christ, and to die is gain.”

That is an astonishing sentence.

Not because Paul hated life.

He didn't.

But because death could no longer threaten him with ultimate loss.

Christ had conquered it.

So whether God gives Ed more years here—and I am praying with everything in me that He does—

or whether one day God calls him home…

Ed belongs to Christ.

And if I belong to Christ…

then goodbye is never the final word.

That changes grief.

It doesn't eliminate it.

It gives grief somewhere to look.

Toward resurrection.

TRANSITION TO THE ALTAR CALL & Prayer for ED

And maybe that's why tonight cannot end with us simply thinking about Ed.

Because Ed would never want to be the destination of this message.

He would point us somewhere else.

To Jesus.

And there may be someone here tonight who has been thinking:

“I've got plenty of time.”

I'll deal with God later.

I'll surrender later.

I'll get serious later.

I'll forgive later.

I'll come back later.

Later is one of the most dangerous words in the human soul.

Because none of us knows how many laters we have.

I'm not saying that to frighten you into Christianity.

Fear can move somebody toward an altar.

Only Christ can save them.

I'm saying it because life is precious.

Because grace is here.

Because Jesus is calling.

And because if you can hear His voice tonight…

you have light enough to respond.

ALTAR CALL — WHAT WILL YOU DO WITH TODAY?

I'm going to ask everyone to remain quiet.

No one moving around unless you need to.

This is between you and God.

There are several kinds of people I want to invite tonight.

First, some of you already know Christ.

But you know you have been wasting time God has given you.

There is something you need to do.

Someone you need to forgive.

Someone you need to call.

Something you need to surrender.

A ministry you need to begin.

A sin you need to leave.

A relationship you need to repair.

And tonight your prayer is:

“Lord, since I am here…use me.”

If that is you, I'm going to invite you to come.

Not because walking down an aisle earns anything.

But sometimes the first act of surrender is movement.

Come and pray.

Come and say:

“God, I don't want to waste another heartbeat.”

Second, I want to speak to those carrying a why.

Why my husband?

Why my wife?

Why my child?

Why cancer?

Why the accident?

Why did they die?

Why did I survive?

Why didn't God answer the way I begged Him to?

I don't have your answer tonight.

But I know the One who will sit with you in the question.

The One who wept.

The One who suffered.

The One who died.

The One who rose again.

If you have been carrying anger toward God…

confusion…

grief…

even bitterness…

you don't have to clean that up before you come.

Bring the question.

Bring the anger.

Bring the tears.

Bring all of it to Jesus.

And finally, there are some here who know about Jesus…

but you do not know Him.

You have religion.

Maybe church.

Maybe a Bible.

Maybe you have been around Christians your entire life.

But if you died tonight, you do not have confidence that you belong to Christ.

Listen carefully.

The gospel is not:

“Become good enough.”

You can't.

Neither can I.

The gospel is:

“Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners.”

That includes me.

That includes you.

Jesus died for our sin.

He was buried.

He rose again.

And salvation is offered as grace to everyone who turns to Him in faith.

Maybe tonight you came asking:

“Why?”

And God brought you to a different question:

“Who?”

Who can forgive me?

Jesus.

Who can save me?

Jesus.

Who defeated death?

Jesus.

Who can hold me when I don't understand?

Jesus.

Who can give my remaining days purpose?

Jesus.

Who can carry me through my final day?

Jesus.

So if tonight you know you need Christ…

come.

If you've been away and tonight you need to come home…

come.

If God is calling you to lay down the life you've been controlling…

come.

Nobody here is too broken.

Nobody here has sinned beyond the reach of grace.

Nobody here needs to pretend.

I stand before you as a man who knows exactly what it means to need mercy.

And the invitation tonight is not:

“Come become religious.”

The invitation is:

Come to Jesus.

Don't wait for another day that God never promised.

You have this moment.

You have this breath.

You have this invitation.

Come.

PRAYER OF SALVATION

For those coming to Christ, you can pray something like this—not because these exact words save you, but because they express the faith of your heart:

Lord Jesus,

I need You.

I know that I am a sinner.

I cannot save myself.

I believe You died for my sins.

I believe You rose from the grave.

Forgive me.

I turn from my old way.

I place my faith in You.

Be my Savior.

Be my Lord.

Take the life I have left and use it for Your Kingdom.

From this day forward, I belong to You.

Amen.

PRAYER FOR THOSE CARRYING THE “WHY”

Father,

There are people standing here with questions that hurt.

Questions we cannot answer.

Names we cannot say without tears.

People we love.

People we miss.

People we are afraid of losing.

Lord, we don't ask You tonight for cheap explanations.

We ask for Your presence.

For those waiting beside hospital beds…

be near.

For those waiting for a transplant…

be near.

For those waiting for test results…

be near.

For those who have already stood beside a grave…

be near.

For those asking why they survived…

be near.

For those angry with You…

do not turn away from them.

Meet them.

Hold them.

And teach us to trust Your heart when we cannot understand Your hand.

PRAYER FOR ED

And Father, tonight I bring my pastor before You.

Ed.

The man who baptized me.

The man You used to answer a prayer in my life.

The man who encouraged me.

The man who helped place this calling in my hands.

Lord, You know his heart.

You know every cell.

Every chamber.

Every beat.

Every weakness.

Every need.

You know where the donor heart would come from.

You know the doctors.

You know the timing.

You know what we cannot see.

And so we ask You boldly:

Give Ed more years.

Strengthen him.

Protect him.

Provide the heart he needs.

Guide every physician.

Open the right door.

We ask for healing.

We ask for mercy.

We ask for more conversations.

More laughter.

More sermons.

More ministry.

More ordinary days.

But Lord…

we also say what is hard to say:

“He belongs to You.”

And so do we.

Hold him.

Hold his family.

Hold this church.

And help us trust You.

FINAL DECLARATION

I started tonight asking:

“Why him, Lord…and not me?”

I still don't have the answer.

But maybe I don't need that answer in order to take the next faithful step.

I know this:

My heart beat this morning.

Yours did too.

And if it beats tomorrow…

that will be grace.

So if God gives us tomorrow…

let's not waste it.

Let's love deeply.

Let's forgive quickly.

Let's repent honestly.

Let's serve faithfully.

Let's tell people about Jesus.

Let's carry the torches others placed in our hands.

And when our own final day eventually comes…

may it find us doing what God called us to do.

Ed once called me after I had asked God:

“What do You want me to do for Your Kingdom?”

Maybe tonight God is asking every one of us the same question in reverse:

“What are you going to do with the life I have given you?”

Whatever days remain…

whatever heartbeats remain…

whatever opportunities remain…

Lord,

Use them.

Use us.

Until the day faith becomes sight…

and every question we carried into eternity finally disappears in the presence of Jesus.

Amen.