Seven years of one bitter question can bury the memory of every deliverance a person was ever told about.
A question repeated across the years of an occupation turns the mind into an attorney building one case, filing every ruined harvest as exhibit and letting go of every season the threshing floor was full. The question decides the evidence; the evidence hardens into the belief that Yahweh has walked off; that belief sets a state of resignation, and resignation works in hiding.
The messenger does not argue the file. He replaces the question with one about the strength a man already carries, and the mind turns toward what it had never been sent to count. The old question charges nothing upfront, which is how a man ends up paying for it in years.