I don’t want to be angry with God. I don’t want to be angry with God. I don’t want to be angry with God.
I don’t know how many times I repeated that to myself last night, mostly for myself, for reminder.
I sat in the car and got angry and shook my fists at God while he sat with patience and told me beautiful stories of the goodness of God and Job and grace and all of the things I needed to hear to remind me why I had fallen so in love with my Maker.
“I’m allowed to be angry with Him and I will be because this doesn’t make sense. I will be angry.”
Be careful in how you deal with things.
And I know he was carefully reminding me not to harbor that anger or let misunderstanding translate to anger.
I surely didn’t think this would be the first thing I’d write about him on here. He’s a leader. That’s the first thing I recognized in him. Or maybe it was a passion I couldn’t put words to for any and all work he does. Or maybe it’s because he is more patient than I will ever be. And sometimes you don’t really have a full understanding of these things that make a person a person until you’re sitting in his car holding his hand after you’ve cried all of your tears and gotten angry at God and he’s buying a Blue Raspberry Nerd Slush from Sonic for you guys to share because he knows they are your favorite.
I will never be able to make the correlation between a God who gives me freedom and the God who does these things like cancer and miscarriages and deaths that you had no control over. It will take a lot for me to build the bridge. I’ve never been able to make that relation but I don’t think I’ve ever considered it or even thought about doing that because I’ve always had it in my mind that God is a good God by my standard of good. I never knew why I’d have a different standard of good than God does.
Am I a hypocrite?
I preach self-worth and love to every person I encounter, but I still can’t get it through my head that some things are out of my control. I let things out of my control affect my self-worth. That’s not your fault. But what can I do about it? You can’t do anything about it. There’s got to be some part of it that’s my fault. It’s not your fault. What can I do to change their opinions? Nothing. What can I do to stop feeling like it’s my fault? Nothing. What can I fix? There’s nothing to fix. Nothing? Nothing.
Talk about a slap in the face. Will the pit in my stomach stop if it’s not my fault? Will I not feel sick whenever I see that person or encounter that situation? Will I ever be able to fix it? I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know.
So I pray. Harder than I have ever prayed. Because of difficulties, and sometimes not even difficulties but serious doubts or questions I encounter, I have entered a season of my life where I am praying harder than I think I’ve ever prayed before. And it’s beautiful. I’m starting to know a God I put my trust in a long time ago. And that’s intimate and exposing and there’s a nakedness that you will experience with God when you let all guards down with Him. I’ve never been so comforted in being fully exposed. And that’s how it is with God. It’s not that He didn’t fully know you beforehand because He’s always known you, but it means that you’re finally getting closer to being on the same page as God and you’re recognizing that He sees all of you and still loves you. Brokenness. Sinfulness. Dirtiness. All of it. He knows you and not only accepts you, but He DESIRES you. And that desire is greater than any earthly desire you will ever encounter.
Do you know how hard it is to love someone when you know their heart? And yet, do you understand how easy it is to love someone well when you know their heart?
He doesn’t call us to be perfect people. He knows we are broken and we will sin and we will never stop falling short of His Glory. He calls us to bring light into brokenness and expose darkness. He doesn’t call us to be perfect people. He calls us to be a voice for the voiceless. He doesn’t call us to be perfect people. He calls us to help each other bear burdens, even when we don’t have to because He’s already relieved us of those. However, He knows we will try to do this alone. He doesn’t call us to be perfect people. He calls us into life. He redeems us. He adopts us. He chooses us. Remember what I said in a previous post about having a seat at the table? That is where we find our worth. Not in leadership roles or romantic relationships or how many mission trips you’ve been on or how many Bible verses you post to Facebook on a daily basis or how many people’s lives you spoke into to bring them closer to God or that you started a Bible study or a house church or in to-do lists or in the number of people you disciple or how much time you spend on your devotion or how people see you or by your GPA or by how many hours you’re taking in the fall or how well you balance school and relationships and family and work and your social life. He calls us to delight in each others’ brokenness. He calls us to live in this mess. He calls us to love well. But He never requires us to be a perfect people.
And I find comfort in that because if I were perfect, I would not seek Perfect.
And our Sustainer, He is perfect.