There is a phrase that people tend to throw around when life breaks open:

“Everything happens for a reason.”

We say it at funerals when we don’t know what else to say. We text it to friends after a sudden breakup, a failed job interview, or a doctor’s appointment that didn’t go the way we hoped. We use it like a gentle blanket, trying to smooth over the sharp, jagged edges of unexpected pain. It comes from a comforting impulse. The desire to believe that the universe is keeping score, that every detour is secretly a shortcut, and that no suffering is ever wasted. But if we are being completely honest here at the table? Sometimes, that phrase feels remarkably heavy.

The Weight of “Meaning”

When you tell someone who is grieving, burnt out, or quietly unraveling that everything happens for a reason, it can accidentally carry a hidden judgment: If there is a reason for this pain, am I supposed to be grateful for it? If this loss was part of a grand plan, am I failing by feeling broken? 

The truth is, some things in life just hurt. Some doors close not because a better one is waiting, but simply because the key broke in the lock. People leave, bodies get tired, and bad things happen to good, quiet people for no profound reason at all. Trying to force a cosmic purpose onto every random heartbreak can feel less like healing and more like toxic positivity. It asks us to skip the messy, unpolished middle, the part where we just sit with the grief, the anger, or the sheer unfairness of it all.

Making Reason vs. Finding Reason

Maybe the shift isn’t asking why something happened to us. Maybe the shift is asking what we do next. Perhaps events don’t come neatly packaged with pre-assigned meaning. Perhaps life is just a series of random, chaotic, beautiful, and heartbreaking occurrences and we are the ones who bring the meaning.

• The reason doesn’t exist beforehand; it is created afterward.
• The terrible breakup doesn’t happen so you can find your soulmate; it happens, and in the quiet aftermath, you learn how to set boundaries you never had before.
• The loss of a job doesn’t happen because of destiny; it happens, and through the panic, you realize you were outgrowing a version of yourself anyway.

The event itself might be chaotic, but your response to it is where the story lives. You don’t have to be grateful for the storm to appreciate the way you learned to rebuild.

A Seat at the Table for the Unanswered

If you are currently sitting in a season of life that makes absolutely no sense, give yourself permission to stop looking for the hidden lesson. You don’t have to romanticize your struggle or package your pain into a neat little moral for others to consume. Some chapters are just hard. Some days are just about surviving.

At The Open Table, we don’t demand that you have it all figured out. You don’t need a profound epiphany to take a seat here. Sometimes, the most honest thing we can do is pull up a chair, sit with the uncertainty, and admit out loud: “I don’t know why this happened, but I am here anyway.”

And maybe, for today, that is reason enough.

Over to You ☕

Do you believe things happen for a reason, or do you think we just assign meaning to things after they occur? Where do you land on this? Let’s talk in the comments below.