Because I said so

Today, the words slipped out of my mouth before I could catch them.

“Because I said so.”

I heard it echo in the quiet that followed. It didn’t feel like power—it felt like a mirror.

Like my own voice was turning back toward me, asking why?

I hear that question all day long.

Tiny voices rising up from the floor around me, from the backseat, from across the kitchen table—why? why? why? Some days it grates. Some days I answer with patience.

But today… today I was tired. And I replied without thinking.

“Because I said so.”

But the moment I spoke it, I felt the sting.

Because I’ve said those same words back to God. Why, Lord?

Why this path? Why this pain? Why this silence? Why now? Why her? Why me?

And sometimes, He doesn’t answer the way I want. Sometimes He doesn’t explain.

Sometimes the heavens stay quiet and all I’m left with is:

“Because I said so.”

And in His mouth, it is holy.

It is just.

It is love.

But in mine?

It felt sharp. Defensive.

A patch for a wound I didn’t have time to tend.

A wall where a door could’ve been.

And I wonder…

Does God ever ache when I ask why and He knows I wouldn’t understand the answer even if He gave it?

Does His heart break when I accuse Him of silence, not knowing He’s shielding me with mercy too deep for words?

Does He whisper “Because I said so” with tears in His eyes, knowing it will have to be enough for now?

And now, I sit with my own heart exposed.

I see how quick I am to demand obedience without offering understanding.

But I serve a God who invites both.

He doesn’t always explain—but He always stays near. He doesn’t always tell me why—but He never tells me to walk alone.

So maybe next time, when I hear that sacred little voice ask why,

I’ll stop.

I’ll kneel.

I’ll explain—when I can.

And when I can’t… I’ll hold her close.

Because He holds me close.

And I’ll say,

“Because I love you. And I’m doing my best to lead you well.”

And maybe she won’t understand just yet.

But maybe she’ll remember the nearness. The gentleness. The safety.

And maybe one day, when life makes her ask why through tears,

She’ll know how to listen for the voice that stays, even when it doesn’t explain.

The voice that says,

“Because I said so.”

And somehow, that will be enough.