What follows is a passage I originally wrote for my book The Mystery of Children, but which didn’t survive the final edit. It tells of a time in my twenties when I was a caseworker with Big Brothers, an organization that matches men with fatherless boys in a mentoring relationship. The stories I could tell from this period could fill a book. This is just one.
There’s something I want very much—something big—but I can’t make it happen. I have to wait for it, knowing it may never come. I have to wait in faith, prepared to let it go. I just have to let God have His way. I don’t even feel right about praying for this thing anymore. I’ve given up my rights. And so, in this waiting, I have peace.
People like to ask, “What kind of a God lets little children suffer?” Really they are asking, “What kind of a God lets children suffer before they are even old enough to know the comfort of faith?”