The Questions Ahead

Pastor Marissa preached this sermon on August 9, 2026 at Beechmont Presbyterian Church on Psalm 105:16-22.

Why Did This Happen to Me?

Have you ever had moments in your life when you asked yourself, “Why did this happen to me?” Or even, “Why me?”

It is human to ask these questions, so please don’t feel bad if you have. Life is sometimes a mystery. We cannot make heads or tails of it. Things happen so randomly and unexpectedly that they take us by surprise. Sometimes, we even think that bad things happen in a row. I have heard myself say that 2025 sucked because of all the stuff that happened, seemingly back to back to back.

But is this the right question to ask? Are there other questions we can ask God, or ourselves, when bad things happen?

Let me tell you a story first.

The Story of Joseph

Imagine that you are one of the youngest sons in your household, but your father seems to favor you above all your older brothers. Your brothers don’t like you because of this. In fact, they dislike you so much that they want to harm you. The least harmful thing they can think of is throwing you down a well. But then one of the brothers decides to make things even worse: he decides to sell you as a slave.

After that, things don’t get better.

You are trafficked into a foreign country, Egypt.

You become the property of a man named Potiphar.

Potiphar’s wife repeatedly sexually harasses you (Genesis 39:7–10). And she doesn’t approach you only once. She speaks to you day after day after day.

She attempts to coerce you sexually (39:11–12).

You are falsely accused of sexual assault (39:13–18).

Your reputation is destroyed without you having an opportunity to defend yourself (39:19–20). Potiphar believes the accusation and imprisons you.

You are forgotten in prison (40:23). After interpreting a cupbearer’s dream, you explicitly asks him to remember you and help you get out. Instead, the chief cupbearer forgets about you.

You remain imprisoned for another two years (41:1).

This all happened to Joseph…

And there is something else Joseph loses: years of his life.

Genesis 37:2 says Joseph is seventeen when his story begins. Genesis 41:46 says he is thirty when he finally goes before Pharaoh, interprets his dream, and is elevated by Pharaoh to serve as an administrator.

That is thirteen years between the seventeen-year-old boy in his father’s household and the thirty-year-old man standing before Pharaoh.

Thirteen years!

Joseph would have had every right to ask, “Why me?” He could have turned his back on God, his family, and everything else. He could have lost hope. But the psalmist says that all this suffering happened because God wanted Joseph to be sent ahead, in order to save the people of Jacob from a famine that, ultimately, was summoned by God according to the psalm.

Why Do Bad Things Happen to God’s People?

Joseph was a young man who was a little bit spoiled. But dreaming is not enough of an excuse to condemn a young man to thirteen years of suffering. I don’t think Joseph deserved all that happened to him, even if the psalmist—or even Joseph himself—finds some purpose or meaning in that suffering.

Today’s story reminded me of a book by Harold S. Kushner titled When Bad Things Happen to Good People. When his three-year-old son was diagnosed with a degenerative disease that meant the boy would live only into his early teens, Kushner was confronted with one of life’s most difficult questions: Why, God?

That question develops into something more specific: Why did God allow this to happen?

Rabbi Kushner reaches a fairly radical conclusion after deciding that statements such as “It is God’s will,” “Everything happens for a reason,” or “God needed another angel” are not the answer. He believes we should stop defending God by claiming that every tragedy is part of God’s plan.

His conclusion is essentially this: God is good, but God’s power should not be understood as controlling everything that happens.

That seems to go somewhat against the Reformed understanding of God’s sovereignty. Classical Reformed theology strongly affirms that God is sovereign. But “God is sovereign” does not necessarily have to mean “God individually causes every event that occurs.”

Chapter 5 of the Westminster Confession, for example, says that God’s providence extends even to human sin, but it immediately insists that “the sinfulness thereof proceedeth only from the creature, and not from God.” God is neither the “author nor approver” of sin.

That distinction matters enormously.

We could say that God is sovereign over Joseph’s story without saying that God morally willed his brothers’ cruelty.

At the end of his story, Joseph says something similar: “Even though you intended to do harm to me, God intended it for good, in order to preserve a numerous people, as he is doing today” (Genesis 50:20).

Joseph, together with the psalmist, understands God’s intention as good—even in the midst of horrible things.

As I said last Sunday, I do not believe in a God who justifies violence and death. I don’t believe that God wants our random suffering. But I do believe that God wants us to ask more questions than the ones we usually ask because, in the end, God wants what is best for humanity.

What Other Questions Should I Ask?

There is a book by Ivone Gebara called Out of the Depths: Women’s Experience of Evil and Salvation that speaks about some of the same things as Rabbi Kushner. But it goes beyond the questions he poses.

Gebara speaks concretely about the experiences of those who suffer, especially poor Latin American women. That leads her to move from “Why did God allow this to happen?” to “Why do we have to begin with God? First, how do we experience evil, and where can we find salvation in the midst of it?”

Traditional theology tells us that God allowed Joseph’s suffering and that there must be a reason.

Rabbi Kushner says that God is love, but this does not necessarily mean that God could have prevented everything that happened. God accompanies and strengthens human beings as they face what happens.

And Gebara, together with other voices in progressive Latin American theology, says: Before trying to explain why God “allows” suffering, let us listen to those who are suffering. Let us ask what caused their suffering, who benefits from it, and where God is in the midst of the struggle against whatever destroys life.

Those are the questions I want us to ask ourselves today.

Suffering

There is so much suffering in the world today. When a person is suffering, they have the prerogative to ask any question that they wish. They can ask “Why is God allowing this to happen?” That is their privilege and they may need as much time as Joseph (after thirteen years) and the psalmist (much longer than that) to see if there's something good that came out of the bad things that happened. But it is not our place to come up with easy answers. We don't have time for questions that will leave people stuck in their suffering or make them feel worse.

Maybe the questions we should ask about the people that we see suffering are:

What have they lost? Not only the people close to them, but perhaps their safety, routines, home as they knew it, people who knew their history, financial security, and the assumption that the people they love will still be there tomorrow.

What are they feeling—and what do they need permission to feel? Grief, anger, fear, abandonment, guilt, relief, numbness, even anger at God. None of these feelings needs theological correction.

Who is with them now?

Who will become the dependable people in their lives?

What do they need in order to flourish? Emotional care, stability, belonging, financial support, counseling, community.

Where can God’s presence be encountered now in their lives? In the people who hold them, feed them, listen to them, advocate for them, and refuse to abandon them.

And maybe most importantly... What does God’s love require of us now?

And that is the question that connects personal suffering with community suffering and national suffering.

And then the questions continue.

How are we listening to those who are suffering?

What is causing their suffering?

Who is benefiting from it?

Yesterday, I heard people saying that sometimes we spend too much time debating semantics while people suffer and die. Sometimes we spend too much time theologizing while people continue to suffer.

I believe this: God does not want suffering. God prioritizes those who suffer, whether they are in our families, in Gaza, in ICE detention centers, or on the streets without a place to sleep.

Our task is to continue asking the important questions—of ourselves and of those in power—that will help bring suffering to an end.

That is what God sends us ahead to do.