I have yelled at God before. I didn’t get a response of course. It makes me laugh now thinking about how funny I probably looked yelling into the air as if God was going to appear sitting in a chair across from me, listen patiently, apologize for the situation I was in at that moment and then as a friend – give me clear and very direct feedback about what to do next so that I can go on with my happy go lucky life.
Sound familiar? Of course, it does! We have all been angry about something.
I have been on an emotionally exhausted and angry path. When you laid out what was going on, I could argue a valid point to be frustrated in a court of law in front of my peers. But Angry at God was probably a tad overreacting. Just a small over-reaction of course.
So…here I am yelling at God…again…
And putting on a front with most people I interact with. I am faking it with most people because they only know the surface me. The me that only shows the listener and helper – you rarely get to the second or third question behind how are you doing?
I begin becoming busy and occupied when those who know me well because they might see through it and the advice isn’t landing well. I don’t want advice and I don’t want to be told what to do. I am sad. I am hurt. And most importantly, I am tired, and I want to avoid this situation that I am going through so every time I hear advice I shut down and it fuels my fire, so I just become more and more angry. I feel more and more alone as I try to pick myself up and push forward.
I laid in bed the night before another traveling trip and I was having trouble sleeping. I said out loud, “I don’t know anymore. My heart is tired and hurts. God if you you haven’t forgotten about me, help.”
I push myself forward, work for a few days while traveling and meet up with someone who was a co-worker and a friend who I have known for years. Her family is beautiful, and we have lunch. We talk about being busy with life and bring up religion very casually and she not knowing anything about what is going on with my struggles back home, looks at me and says, “You know AT, Jesus was praying the night before and even his friends who were closest to him couldn’t stay awake when he needed them the most and he felt all alone and was betrayed. The ones he asked to be with him in his final hours let him down.”
I know this.
I know this… and I remember his walk.
I remember his walk with the cross.
I have heard the story over and over and over throughout my childhood and yet it is easy to forget.
We get busy.
We want to be happy.
We think no-one understands.
He said after all that he went through and after so many hours on the cross. “Have you forgotten me?”
We are not forgotten. And yes, we are understood.
And for now, yeah, this does hurt. It’s going to be okay though.
I remember all the people I have in my life who care for me and I have been pushing away because I am hurt and it’s a reflex I have when I am hurting.
Then, I remember that he is bigger than the mountain, the oceans, the beautiful things in life that I love, and he hears me. He knows my heart. He knows what is on my mind and in my heart before I even have to say it.
He’s got me and he hasn’t forgotten me. He still loves me, and he would move mountains for me.