If I’m honest I’ve yelled at God a lot this week, those have been my main prayers. As soon as my heart unleashes all it’s frustration upon the God that created it, guilt and shame ensues.
I know that it’s okay to yell at God, but I’m a 30 year old mother not the headstrong idealistic college chick I was ten years ago. The spiritually mature don’t have weeks where they sulk and yell at their Father God, do they?
I guess this one does at least.
This week I’ve been angry, I’ve been a six year old girl on the inside, looking God straight in the eye and yelling: “This is not FAIR!”
Not fair God to endure the loss of my father, my mother’s sickness and suicide, two years of hard grief only to emerge and to the wounding of our hearts over the ministry we’ve spent four years pouring into.
Not fair God. This is an uneven distribution of pain.
Deep inside I fear that you will always keep us struggling to teach me a lesson that my thick and stubborn heart hasn’t mastered just yet. Perhaps I don’t rely on you enough to come out of the painful times?
But, is pain the only way to learn true reliance?
God, can’t we have an easy season, a break from bearing a heavy burden?
At least twenty lovely people have told me that they’ll pray for us this week, and I responded with the expected “thank you.” But I confess that inside I thought: “It won’t make any difference but sure, knock yourself out.”
Yesterday I emerged feeling brave again, strong again, less cynical and more optimistic. We have weathered worse storms than this, this season of painful persecution. And hey, maybe it means that we’re doing it right?
I know that we’re approaching a turning point of some sort. I know that an extra measure of deep breathe bravery will be required, I feel like we’re approaching a cliff, that we’ll need to take a leap of faith soon.
At Saturday’s sun rose I awoke feeling more like the “me God created me to be.” I shook off the labels and painful words that I’d let stick to me over the past few months.
And as I write these words “Be Thou my Vision” starts trickling sweetly through my ear buds. My Father’s hymn, my favorite hymn, God I love hymns. They wash over me like gentle, lapping waves and remind me of what is and what isn’t. Who I am and who I am not.
Be Thou My Vision Oh Lord of my heart
May my eyeballs see you when they look at the world
Be Thou my Wisdom, and Thou my true Word;
I ever with Thee and Thou with me, Lord;
Thou my great Father, I Thy true son;
Thou in me dwelling, and I with Thee one.
Somewhere inside I believe my Dad manipulated the Pandora system to send me this song in this moment.
Dear God, can I still be your child, stand up from my tantrum and take your hand once again as you lead me where you know we need to go?
If you find yourself doing some wondering and yelling this week, I get it sweet friend. What have you learned in your seasons of painful wondering or tantrumy “not fair?”
I’m with you, I love you.