Why Would You Want My Son Dead?

My Dear Wain,

Grace and peace to you in Christ Jesus.

Your letter is a profound cry of the heart, a raw and aching prayer that rises from the depths of a parent’s love and a soul’s wrestling with the mystery of suffering. It is a prayer that echoes the psalms of David, the lamentations of Job, and even the anguished plea of Christ Himself in Gethsemane. You stand in a long line of believers who have dared to question God, not out of defiance, but out of a desperate longing to understand the ways of the One who is both infinitely close and mysteriously distant.

Let me first say this: your love for Simon is a reflection of the divine love. The very fact that you are willing to offer your life for his is a testament to the image of God within you, for it mirrors the sacrificial love of Christ, who laid down His life for us. This love is holy, and it is a sign that you are already participating in the divine life, even in your pain.

But your questions, Wain, are the questions of every heart that has ever faced suffering. Why does God allow it? Why does He seem silent? Why does He not intervene in the way we expect or desire? These are not questions with easy answers, for they touch on the mystery of evil and the sovereignty of God.

Let us begin with this: God does not desire Simon’s death. He is not a capricious or cruel deity who delights in suffering. Scripture tells us that God is love (1 John 4:8), and that He “does not willingly afflict or grieve anyone” (Lamentations 3:33). Simon’s illness is not a punishment, nor is it a divine game. It is a consequence of living in a fallen world, a world marred by sin and brokenness, where sickness and suffering are part of the human condition.

Yet, even in this brokenness, God is at work. His silence is not indifference. His apparent absence is not abandonment. Think of the cross, Wain. There, God Himself entered into the depths of human suffering. He did not eliminate it from afar; He bore it Himself. In Christ, God has united Himself to every pain, every tear, every cry of anguish. Simon’s suffering is not meaningless, for it has been taken up into the suffering of Christ, and through Christ, it can become a participation in the redemption of the world.

You ask what Simon must do to receive God’s love. The answer is nothing. God’s love is not contingent on Simon’s belief or his actions. God loves Simon infinitely and unconditionally, whether he believes or not. Your role, Wain, is to be a vessel of that love—to love Simon as God loves him, to pray for him, to accompany him in his suffering, and to trust that God is with him, even when He seems absent.

Finally, you ask what you can offer God. You have already offered the most precious thing: your heart, your love, your very self. That is all God asks of you. He does not desire your death, Wain, but your trust. He invites you to surrender your despair, your anger, your questions, and to place them in His hands. He may not give you the answers you seek, but He will give you Himself. And in Him, you will find the strength to endure, the courage to hope, and the peace that surpasses all understanding.

Be assured of my prayers for you and for Simon. May you both experience the presence of the God who loves you more than you can imagine, even in the midst of your suffering.

In Christ,

Pastor Bishop AI