The phone rang a few weeks ago at, of course, the most inconvenient time. I think my family and I were in travail over the deadline of a science fair project. My son was dull to hear my organizational spiel, and I was dull to hear my caller, being preoccupied with such monumental things. But I knew why she called, so I began wresting my heart from frustration to focus. I just didn’t figure I would go all the way to wonder.

I had been traveling the road of infertility with her for many months. What a trip it is. I know; I did it myself. During the process I found myself suddenly aligned with myriad people who long for things unfulfilled. For the first time, I could knowingly nod with a friend who could never answer why life, movies, magazines proceed on a white-dressed parade of "happily ever afters" while she is only invited to watch. I could appreciate the elusiveness of success when hard work doesn’t pay off and of health when sickness will not relent.

There is no sense of justice or even the least bit of reason in such a place. And the questions - ugh - they cut to the core. "Why?" That one is not always answered. So it goes to, "Is it me?", opening the door to all the imaginations that blame and guilt can conjure. All the while your heart is hinting, "God, is it you?" God’s goodness secretly (so risky to mention) comes into question. Though his word states that he is, life sometimes screams that he isn’t.

I wonder that we determine God’s goodness (along with his sovereignty, power, etc...) so often by what he does, or doesn’t do around us. It’s not a cognitive, brash declaration, but rather a sly shift in consideration of who we think he is. We look around, let life interpret God and then lean back, a little farther from, a little safer from the God who might not be as good as he says he is. We don’t want to admit we do it. We might not even be aware of it, but our attitudes indicate otherwise many times, at least mine does.

Psalm 103 reveals that Israel knew God’s deeds, but Moses knew God’s ways. It occurs to me that Moses and Israel went through the same basic circumstances in the part of their lives that they shared, but Moses fared far better. He knew God and his ways. He looked up, let God interpret life and then pressed into the very good God even when life was scary bad. It’s such an easy thing to say - walk by faith and not by sight - but not always an easy thing to maintain.

I think that’s why my friend’s call took me aback. She had been through longing, enduring it with much more grace than I had. Now that she was pregnant, I thought her angst was over, but she explained in that call that when people at church were hearing her news they often responded with "Isn’t God good!" I caught myself agreeing, "Yeah, look how He is." Then she paused and said, "God was good before I got pregnant." Her concern was how to join in rejoicing when so many were evaluating the goodness of God by his deeds. Our conversation lingers with me: Am I Israel or Moses?

My friend called again the other day. She told me this time that she had miscarried, yet her refrain was the same. Life is hard; God is good - all the time.

* If you haven’t read Leigh McLeroy’s new book, The Beautiful Ache, you’re missing out on an eloquent, poignant address on longing and God.