Why?

Why?
“Why did you make me like this?”
Ro 9:20

I have never met a single person who is completely happy with him or herself. Some may feel more secure under their skin than others, but most of them have certain flaws either physically or emotionally with which they constantly struggle. That’s something that we label “being human,” I suppose.

Being human is being imperfect and frail, and for anyone to consider it otherwise is either arrogant or ignorant.

Many people who accomplish great deeds in their lives are vexed by many mental and physical infirmities. Abraham Lincoln had to deal with severe depression all his life and was in danger of losing the battle against himself many times. There have been many people of great renown who suffered bipolar disorder, and what drove them to great despair and utter darkness also inspired them to create some of the greatest literature and music in human history. We all know what happened to the hearing of Beethoven, the greatest musician who ever lived, and how the sight of the great epic poet Milton was taken away at a relatively young age.

People with great sensitivity are sensitive to both joy and sorrow, and are creative in creating great works of art and, unfortunately, are also very creative in creating their own sorrow out of the sensitivity of their own hearts. One simply can not have one without the other. We don’t have the privilege of picking and choosing; what we are endowed with by the Almighty is a whole package deal.

I often envy people with great mathematical skill who do well at school, yet as I look further, some of the objects of my envy seem to have great difficulty communicating their ideas and feeling in a clear and understandable fashion, and many of them aren’t communicative at all. They may have sound and logical minds, yet lack the aptitude to appreciate the seemingly illogical and disorderly in the world and fail to see beyond human reason and to venture into the beautiful mystery of the metaphysical.

I am still learning to embrace myself with my warps and flaw, sensitivity and vulnerability and all. What choice do we have really? Can we trade ourselves in for a better one? There was a label attached to us that said “no returns” when we were born, and for better or for worse, we just have to learn to live with ourselves and make the best out of the less than the best.

“I find that I love my baby more and more,” a lady who had just given birth to a Down’s Syndrome baby told my wife a few weeks after the boy was born. To love a healthy and beautiful baby surely takes a lot less effort for a mother than to adore a baby with health or mental issues, but she still needs to learn to love wholeheartedly just the same, albeit one is a lot more challenging than the other.

On the other hand, I cannot imagine what this world would be like if the Lord created all of us perfect, for the seemingly perfect people are all so plastic and unappealing, arrogant and assuming. How can humility, the greatest quality that the Lord covets in his creatures, be forged in the flowery bed of perfection?