When Sunday School Answers Fall Short…

by Pastor Scott

You ever get tired of the neat, tidy answers? You know the ones I’m talking about—those churchy, Sunday School responses that get tossed out like a life preserver when life’s questions feel more like a tsunami. “God’s got a plan.” “Just trust and obey.” “It’ll all work out in the end.” They’re not wrong, necessarily. But sometimes, they feel like Band-Aids on a broken bone. Life’s complicated, messy, and raw. And sometimes, the harder we try to wrap it up in a neat little bow, the more it unravels.

I’m sitting here, sipping my coffee, staring out the window at a world that doesn’t always make sense. Maybe you’re there too. Maybe you’ve asked, Why did this happen? Why him/her? Why now? Maybe you’ve prayed until your knees ached, and the heavens stayed silent. Or maybe you’ve watched someone you love wrestle with pain so deep it makes your chest hurt just to think about it. And when you bring those questions to church, you get… a platitude. A verse quoted like it’s a magic wand. A smile that says, “Don’t dig too deep.”

But what if the digging is the point? What if the wrestling is where we meet God? What if, within that tension, real faith, even in the unknown, gets galvanized?

Let’s talk about Jacob for a second. You know the story—Genesis 32. He’s alone by the Jabbok River, and he ends up in this all-night wrestling match with a mysterious figure. Some say it’s God, some say an angel, but whoever it is, Jacob’s not letting go. He’s got questions. He’s got baggage. He’s got a past he’s running from and a future he’s terrified of. And in the struggle, he gets a limp—and a new name. Israel. “One who strives with God.”

Isn’t that something? God doesn’t smite Jacob for wrestling. He doesn’t hand him a scroll with all the answers. He meets him in the fight. And Jacob walks away changed, but not fixed. He’s still got the limp.

What if that’s us? What if the limp is part of the deal? What if the questions—the ones that keep you up at night, the ones that make you wonder if you’re even doing this faith thing right—are the very place where God shows up?

I’m so tired of pretending we’ve got it all figured out. I’m tired of hearing, “Just read Romans 8:28, and you’ll be fine.” Don’t get me wrong—that verse is gold. “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” It’s true. But it’s not a vending machine promise. It doesn’t mean every tragedy comes with a PowerPoint explaining why. Sometimes, we’re left with the tension. The mystery. The ache.

And that’s okay.

Think about Job. The guy loses everything—his kids, his wealth, his health. His friends show up with their Sunday School answers, basically saying, “You must’ve sinned, brah. Repent, and it’ll all be fine.” Job’s like, No, I didn’t do anything to deserve this. And he demands an audience with God. He’s bold. He’s raw. He’s not afraid to say, This doesn’t make sense, and I’m not okay with it.

When God finally speaks, does He give Job a flow chart of why bad things happen? Nope. He shows up in a whirlwind and says, Were you there when I laid the earth’s foundation? It’s not an answer—it’s a perspective shift. God’s like, I’m bigger than your questions, but I’m still here with you. And somehow, that’s enough for Job. Not because he gets it, but because he trusts.

So, here’s the challenging, hard question for us today: Can we trust God when the answers don’t come? Can we sit in the tension of I don’t know and still believe He’s good? Can we let go of the need to have it all figured out and just… wrestle?

I also think about Jesus in Gethsemane. He’s sweating blood, begging for another way. “Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me.” (Luke 22:42). Even Jesus, the Son of God, had a moment where the plan didn’t feel okay. But then He says, “Yet not my will, but yours be done.” That’s not a Sunday School answer. That’s surrender in the face of the unknown. That’s trust when the road ahead looks like a cross.

So, what about you? What’s the question you’re wrestling with? The one you’re afraid to say out loud because it feels too big, too messy, too unspiritual? What if you brought it to God—not for an answer, but for a fight? What if you said, I’m not letting go until you bless me—not with clarity, but with presence?

Here’s what I’m learning: Faith isn’t about having all the answers. (I used to think it was, but it certainly isn’t) It’s about trusting God in the questions. It’s about showing up to the mat, night after night, even when you’re tired, even when you’re limping. Because God’s not afraid of your struggle. He’s not offended by your doubt. He’s there, in the dark, ready to wrestle.

So, let’s stop pretending we’ve got it all together – because we don’t. Let’s stop handing out churchy clichés like they’re the cure for everything. Let’s be honest about the hard stuff—the grief, the fear, the why that echoes in our souls. And let’s trust that God is big enough to handle it. That He’s good enough to hold us, even when we don’t understand.

As it says in Psalm 23:4, “Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me.” Not because I get it. Not because it all makes sense. But because He’s with me.

So, keep wrestling, my friend. Keep asking. Keep limping. And trust that the God who meets you in the struggle is the same God who carries you through.

What’s the question you’re afraid to ask? And what would it look like to bring it to God—not for an answer, but for Him?
-Grace & Peace,
Pastor Scott