It's Okay to be Mad (at God)
Prayer is supposed to be a continuous conversation between you and the Most High. I mean, that’s the goal. But things have gotten a little frigid (on my end) lately and I’ve been pulling away. Giving JC the silent treatment.
Truth be told: I’m upset with God.
Long story short, adoptions in Ethiopia could be on the brink of some paralyzing changes. Again. After some friends asked how the process was going, Elijah perfectly summed up our feelings in his curt reply, “Bad, as usual.”
Many of us carry heaviness around. We wake up with weight on our shoulders. Day to day tasks are harder when you are preoccupied, burdened. Subtle things throw you for a loop. Minor inconveniences take up major brainspace. And real problems become nearly insurmountable.
That’s me in a nutshell. Right now I can cry at the drop of a hat. I’m angry, so angry over what is outside of my control….and I’m blaming God.
If you’ve read the Bible at all, especially Psalms or Job, you know that frustration with Jesus is not a forbidden topic. At least, I haven’t been lightning bolted yet. My Meggie reminded me, “God created the world; He can certainly handle your aggravation.” She encouraged me to tell Him, in the same words I’d use with a friend, what was upsetting me. And so, after dropping Elijah off at school one morning, I sat in the car in our driveway (still in my pajamas, mind you) and did just that. Through tears and beating of the steering wheel, I spoke my heart. Nothing miraculous happened. There wasn’t a swaddled Ethiopian baby in a basket greeting me at the door. But the window of my spirit had cracked open ever so slightly. Dust stirred in my soul.
Inside, I worked on household tasks. While cleaning and organizing (Read: Watching Netflix), I found an index card with scripture on it. After my Grandma passed, a friend had written a sweet letter and included that card inscribed with verses on perseverance and suffering. For the rest of the day I carried it around with me, stuck under my arm like a cherished teddy bear.
It wasn’t until later though that lightning struck (Not literally! Geez, I already told you JC doesn’t work that way ;) ) in a two-part revelation about this prayer “conversation” with God:
1. Often I wait to have a discussion with Him very last. In the meantime, I “talk behind His back” BIG TIME. I hash Jesus issues out with David, with friends, with my family….and then I get around to addressing God. He gets the leftover discourse, the conversational scraps.
2. My internal dialogue throughout the day is a kind of prayer. Especially since zero emotions, thoughts, or words are hidden from the Guy upstairs. (Thus the earlier quotation marks around “talk behind His back.”) Consequently, my current prayer life during this continuous exchange is mostly a running tally of negativity. Ouch, the truth hurts! And the truth is: What I meditate on is crap.
Boooo. Neither of those realizations were super flattering. But I also recognized an opportunity for some control and my antennae went up. I could choose to speak to God first in prayer. I could choose to interpret life differently, to see blessing instead of constant defeat. Then, in snippets, I reminisced through portions of my days and their irritations. But now I was aware of this alternate mindset, an intentional gratitude. The drastic perspective change humbled me, made me come to terms with the ugliness to which I’d grown accustomed.
Alarm rings:
“Grrrrrrrrrrr. I hate mornings. I hate today already, there’s too much to do.”
Deep breath. Okay, another day. I must be here for a reason.
“My whole life consists of packing lunches and driving Elijah from one location to another.”
These mornings are only my boy and me. Us time. It won’t be like this forever; help me appreciate what I can during these hectic moments.
Household duties:
“Why even wash clothes or dishes? They just get dirty again. And again. It’s the black hole of chores.”
God, thank you for capable hands and arms to fold this laundry. Thank you for the capable bodies (and KNEES) that dirtied it. Messy dishes mean there’s an abundance of fresh, healthy food in my refrigerator. And by simply turning on my faucet, I have clean water to wash them.
Home issues:
“The furnace is making weird noises. Our upstairs bathroom is tiny and ugly. This house is too old; it would be easier to bulldoze it and start over.”
Our furnace runs; we have warmth in the winter months. There are 2 working bathrooms in our home. We own the roof over our head; our family can sleep in safety. What a gift.
Car problems:
“David’s car is broken. Now we all have to carpool to school and work until it is fixed. This is stupid, expensive, and a huge inconvenience.”
The garage is close and run by Mennonites. Thank goodness for honest, helpful people. And um, we still have 1 car….which is more than most of the planet. Carpooling isn’t ideal, but IS a perfect opportunity for early morning family sing-alongs.
Frustrations of family building:
“Why couldn’t we have been happy with just Elijah? On top of the infertility nonsense, now it feels like our adoption won’t be happening either. God, why lead us to Ethiopia if you KNEW it would end poorly? Why give us the desire for another child, but not the means to get that child to our family? What’s the point of breaking our hearts like this?”
Elijah. We didn’t realize what a BIG deal he was as a baby, especially with our (as of then) unknown fertility issues. Thank you for our boy and for attuning us specifically to the grief of other families struggling to conceive. Now our hearts have stretched wide enough to fit -not just a daughter- but a whole country inside. We ache for the people of Ethiopia, the children. Which is only a smidgen, I’d imagine, of how You feel about your suffering children around the globe. God, thank you for loving EVERYONE, every. single. one. of us, with the crushing, unrelenting adoration of a Father.
As I was recently reminded in a sermon, the question isn’t “Why do bad things happen to good people?” It’s “Why do good things happen at all?” And that answer is Jesus. It beautifully states in James, “Every desirable and beneficial gift comes out of heaven. The gifts are rivers of light cascading down from the Father of Light. There is nothing deceitful in God, nothing two-faced, nothing fickle. He brought us to life using the true Word, showing us off as the crown of all His creatures.” It can be messy and miserable down here. There's no need to sugarcoat or bury our feelings about that. But God loves us. (That is especially hard to grasp in the midst of being annoyed at Him, but is no less true regardless of my anger.) He has given me the gift of this gorgeous world, of my life. And whatever the circumstances, I can control my perspective to look beyond the constant thorns and also see the splendor of the rose. I can work a little harder to be grateful…and maybe JC can work a little harder on adoptions in Ethiopia. Just a thought. Well really, a prayer.
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