As a potsherd, I often complained:
Why are we broken clay?
What’s the point of suffering,
Of tragedy without meaning,
Of hardship that beats us down,
Of shadowy valleys that last so long,
Of disasters that take the lives of the innocent,
Of random sickness that makes no sense?
The whys remain
‘Til we know His name,
Believe in His sovereignty,
And glimpse His majesty,
Because He is good
And has done everything He could
To bridge the chasm between us
By sacrificing, in love, His Son Jesus
That He might use our circumstances
To mold our character and advance us.
So that, in the end, He might change us
To be more like His Son, Christ Jesus.