I was surprised to discover this week that I was still mad at God. Surprised, because I believe in a loving and all-wise God, one who is kind and just and sovereign. Only such a God could be trusted with the eternal care of my babies.
But in an effort to be authentic, I should tell you that I still indulge myself occasionally in being angry at my Creator who took my children from me. On Tuesday, seven months after Olivia's death, I was overcome by a grief storm triggered by a number of things. After a day of seeking the Lord and enveloping myself in the peace and comfort of my home, He revealed to me that I was still mad at Him.
I didn't know what to do with that. I can't do this thing without Him, and now I didn't know if I could do it with Him either. What was amazing, though, is that He met me there. He reminded me that I could be mad at Him and still be in relationship with Him. That He could heal that too, if I would let Him.
So I did. And I realized part way through the next day that I wasn't angry anymore. That my perspective had been restored. What I've discovered over the last couple of months is, the sooner I submit all my emotions to my Saviour, the sooner He can heal them and establish me in peace. And now when I examine what my thoughts were about during that time, I am grateful for His perspective, because now from the other side I can see that they were just not right and could only lead to deeper despair.
God, You are so good. You lift me up, turn me around, and set my feet on higher ground.
2 comments:
Being mad at God is such a complicated thing. I know that when I am it feels like I am stuck. There is really no way to get past it other than to bring it to the cross. As you say there is something in us that believes the lie that we can't bring that to Him.
Thank you for sharing this because one of the things that makes being mad at God so hard is that people don't talk about it. I think the way you put it here was beautiful.
I second what Misty said--being mad at God is such a complicated thing. But I think it's better than being indifferent or noncommittal, which is what I have been struggling with. Sometimes I think I try to separate God from what happened to Tabitha. And I try to separate my grief from the rest of my life. (Thankfully, that doesn't work for very long.)
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