Free The Music Box by T. Davis Bunn

faith, to have used her distress and her anger, yes, anger at God as a reason for turning away.
    Slowly Melissa swung around, as though her gaze was drawn against her will. She watched Angie a moment, then asked, “Do you believe in God?”
    â€œI do.”
    â€œBut why?”
    Angie could not help but feel the pain behind that question. And the yearning. Even so, all the words she had come to know from youth about salvation and repentance and commands, they did not seem to fit. So all she said was, “Because I could not go on without faith. I would have shriveled up and blown away a long time ago.”
    Melissa gazed at her with eyes that held both the openness of youth and the ancient wisdom of suffering. “Did somebody die?”
    There was no place for anything less than the truth. “My husband. A little over six years ago.”
    Melissa stared out her window a long moment. “Then, you know,” she said simply. “I prayed a lot when Momma got sick. I prayed all the time. And still God let her die. The preacher said she was in a better place. But why did God have to take her? Momma didn’t want to go. She told me. She said if she was not already dying, the pain of not being able to watch me grow up would have killed her stone-dead.” Melissa wiped an impatient hand across her cheeks, as though not wanting to take the time for tears. “Why did God make her go away?”
    It came to her then—the Bible passage, and the need to talk it through. “I asked myself the same questions. I searched everywhere for answers. I asked everybody I could. And it seemed to me that the people who talked didn’t know the first thing about suffering. And the people who knew, they didn’t talk at all.”
    Angie turned in her seat so that she could face the young girl straight on. “So I started reading the Bible more than I ever had before, looking for my own answers. It was either that or close the Book and never open it again. And I came across the shortest verse in the Scriptures.
    â€œA close friend of Jesus became ill, a man called Lazarus. By the time Jesus arrived, though, Lazarus had been dead for three days. All the family and friends were gathered about, crying and weeping and full of grief. And you know what Jesus did?”
    â€œHe healed His friend,” Melissa said. “But He didn’t heal my momma. Even after I asked Him. And Momma loved Jesus. I know that.”
    â€œI believe you,” Angie replied solemnly. “But let’s go back to the story for a moment. Before Jesus brought His friend back to life, He did something else, and this something is the shortest verse in the Bible, just two words. The Bible says, ‘Jesus wept.’ When I came to that passage in my searching, I stopped. I couldn’t go any further. Why did He weep? I wondered. The Bible doesn’t say. Jesus didn’t tell us why He cried. I thought and thought about that. And I decided that Jesus didn’t say anything because He was a fellow sufferer. He knew He was going to die on the Cross. He carried this knowledge with Him all His life. He was born to suffer and die for us.”
    â€œSo He was silent,” Melissa said softly. “He knew suffering, so He didn’t talk about it.”
    â€œThat’s what I decided,” Angie agreed. “I don’t know if I’m right, because the Bible doesn’t tell us. But that’s what my heart said to me. Jesus wept. Not for His friend, because Lazarus was going to be healed and rise up and walk away. No. Jesus wept for everyone . Because all of us who are born to this earth will suffer. It is a part of the burden of sin, of the imperfection of life on earth. None of us will escape the weight of sorrow. And because our gracious Lord understood this and because He loved us so, He wept for us. He wept with us. All of us. Even me. Even you.”
    Melissa’s small chin trembled, and one