It is the three letter word that trickles down toddler chins and echoes in grey hair still.
It is heard in harvest time and when there is no grain on the table.
It is uttered in churches and in schools. It slips off the businessman’s lips as he picks up the morning post. It draws tight around the fathers eyes as he picks up the bank slip and squeaks under the mothers sigh of disbelief.
It is heard on playgrounds and in hospital beds.
It is said in amazement and awe.
It is said in devastation and dismay.
It is screamed, whispered, and on print.
It is the cry of man since the cry of Adam. It is the plea of the holy man honestly asking and it is the mock of the athiest holding a clenched fist to a heaven he believes empty.
And it was even spoken by the man from Nazareth.
Looking up to His dad, He let out a “Why?”.
And letting out His last He died with the question on His lips.
That is something for us “why” people.
For after His “why” drenched all the dirt He grew again – replanted, reborn, risen.
And that is what we will find at the end of our “whys”. Heaven may not speak. Our ears may ache of silence. But we sit on that same drenched soil and now our Why ends the same: replanted, reborn, redeemed.
This is the answer to our why: resurrection.