sea shells

How many times, in the midst of doing what little I can, have I cried out in anguish, “God, it’s too much! How do you stand it? How is it you do not rend the heavens and scatter the stars, reaching out in your awesome power to feed the hungry, heal the sick, comfort the broken and console the lonely? How can you possibly know all things and yet do nothing? How is it that I, a man of dust with a heart of stone, find myself brought to my knees in tears at the plight of my brothers and sisters while you, who can do all things, seem to remain unmoved?”

How could a loving God permit this? Does he not hear their cry?