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Ready to Rumble?: When You're Mad at God...
By Thea Rashad
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All rights reserved. Add Water and Stir website 2009.
"...Jacob,the ultimate
Biblical Wrestler:
running scared,
desperate and
fighting to keep the
faith. He holds fast
to the Lord even to
the point of injury.
But, this requires
trust which, let’s face
it, is sometimes in
short supply in a
time of modern
conveniences, instant
gratification and
narcissism."
Biblical Wrestler:
running scared,
desperate and
fighting to keep the
faith. He holds fast
to the Lord even to
the point of injury.
But, this requires
trust which, let’s face
it, is sometimes in
short supply in a
time of modern
conveniences, instant
gratification and
narcissism."
Trust in the face of anguish. The late minister and author John. H. Ogwyn said it’s
just one of seven profound lessons from the Book of Job. In my humble opinion,
it’s the hardest. I’m not talking about trust in the face of disappointment or
inconvenience.
No, I mean real anguish—the kind Holocaust survivors must’ve felt watching loved
ones marched off to gas chambers. I'm talking about the anguish slaves in chains
near death carried with them in the Diaspora or the kind a person born without
arms or legs revisits every time they long to dance, dive—even dangle from a cliff.
I mean the kind inner conflict when you feel like you take one step up and two
steps back. The episodes in life that makes you ask, “Where is God in this?”
It’s a valid question and one a dear friend recently confessed. She’d called to
admit: she’s pissed— at God—deeply hurt, mad as hell and rightfully so. She’s
followed the rules. She’s been prayerful, asking God to deliver her heart’s desire:
a husband, a family. She hasn’t cheated, schemed or lied to get her man. And
what God hasn’t delivered, she’s prepared to let science fill-in the gaps. Her
anguish is rooted in people who are seemingly less deserving yet living the life she
covets. It’s not fair, she added. She’s right.
Perhaps it’s a spoiled brat reaction, emotional immaturity or a diminished
relationship with God. Or maybe she’s no different than Jacob, the ultimate
Biblical Wrestler, running scared, desperate and fighting to keep the faith. He
holds fast to the Lord even to the point of injury. But, this requires trust which,
let’s face it, is sometimes in short supply in a time of modern conveniences,
instant gratification and narcissism.
We’ve grown accustomed to a step-by-step reward system--a quid pro quo, a
this-for-that, if you will. My mother calls it the “Burger King Complex” inspired by
a commercial for the fast food chain that says, “Have it your way.” Just know,
sometimes it’s not God’s way.
That’s hard to accept. Trust me, I know.
It’s also where my friend and I differ. Her heart’s desire, she believes, was divinely
given and thus, should be divinely granted. I believe, however, matters of the
heart are subject to change—even for the Man with the Big Blueprint in the sky.
God’s not in the business of breaking hearts. But, He’ll allow it, if it serves the
greater good, specifically your life’s purpose and the lives of others.
It's cliche', but life really is a journey. Sometimes we hold so tight to the intended
destination that we miss out on a plethora of unimaginable, awesome, alternate
possibilities. A character from one of my favorite shows (admittedly targeted at a
much younger demographic) eloquently conveyed this thought:
“People get lost when they think of happiness as a destination. We always think someday we’ll
be happy when we get that car or job or person that person in our lives that’ll fix everything.
But, happiness is a mood, a condition. It’s like being tired or hungry. It comes and goes and that’
s okay. If only people would look at it that way, they might find happiness more often.”
I’m no Divinity student. But, it seems to me God had to injure Jacob so that he
would let go. Jacob had to embrace the defeat of his plan so that he could receive
God’s victory in his circumstance. He didn’t give up. He gave in.
A husband and a family to my friend and countless, nameless, faceless legions of
single women represents: completion, fulfillment, love. That blessing might arrive.
It might not. If not, it’s a loss. And a loss is worth grieving whether it’s a life or a
dream. No matter the source of the anguish, what’s most important is: what we
tell ourselves in the meantime.
We have to be honest like my friend. Admit we’re in the WWE with God. Our
anger isn’t lost on Him, but sometimes it eludes us. It may be that the wrestling
is the only way to figure out what comes next. Maybe we have to be injured, hurt,
or heartbroken to let go, to see what we don’t see: having it our way isn’t the
only way.
just one of seven profound lessons from the Book of Job. In my humble opinion,
it’s the hardest. I’m not talking about trust in the face of disappointment or
inconvenience.
No, I mean real anguish—the kind Holocaust survivors must’ve felt watching loved
ones marched off to gas chambers. I'm talking about the anguish slaves in chains
near death carried with them in the Diaspora or the kind a person born without
arms or legs revisits every time they long to dance, dive—even dangle from a cliff.
I mean the kind inner conflict when you feel like you take one step up and two
steps back. The episodes in life that makes you ask, “Where is God in this?”
It’s a valid question and one a dear friend recently confessed. She’d called to
admit: she’s pissed— at God—deeply hurt, mad as hell and rightfully so. She’s
followed the rules. She’s been prayerful, asking God to deliver her heart’s desire:
a husband, a family. She hasn’t cheated, schemed or lied to get her man. And
what God hasn’t delivered, she’s prepared to let science fill-in the gaps. Her
anguish is rooted in people who are seemingly less deserving yet living the life she
covets. It’s not fair, she added. She’s right.
Perhaps it’s a spoiled brat reaction, emotional immaturity or a diminished
relationship with God. Or maybe she’s no different than Jacob, the ultimate
Biblical Wrestler, running scared, desperate and fighting to keep the faith. He
holds fast to the Lord even to the point of injury. But, this requires trust which,
let’s face it, is sometimes in short supply in a time of modern conveniences,
instant gratification and narcissism.
We’ve grown accustomed to a step-by-step reward system--a quid pro quo, a
this-for-that, if you will. My mother calls it the “Burger King Complex” inspired by
a commercial for the fast food chain that says, “Have it your way.” Just know,
sometimes it’s not God’s way.
That’s hard to accept. Trust me, I know.
It’s also where my friend and I differ. Her heart’s desire, she believes, was divinely
given and thus, should be divinely granted. I believe, however, matters of the
heart are subject to change—even for the Man with the Big Blueprint in the sky.
God’s not in the business of breaking hearts. But, He’ll allow it, if it serves the
greater good, specifically your life’s purpose and the lives of others.
It's cliche', but life really is a journey. Sometimes we hold so tight to the intended
destination that we miss out on a plethora of unimaginable, awesome, alternate
possibilities. A character from one of my favorite shows (admittedly targeted at a
much younger demographic) eloquently conveyed this thought:
“People get lost when they think of happiness as a destination. We always think someday we’ll
be happy when we get that car or job or person that person in our lives that’ll fix everything.
But, happiness is a mood, a condition. It’s like being tired or hungry. It comes and goes and that’
s okay. If only people would look at it that way, they might find happiness more often.”
I’m no Divinity student. But, it seems to me God had to injure Jacob so that he
would let go. Jacob had to embrace the defeat of his plan so that he could receive
God’s victory in his circumstance. He didn’t give up. He gave in.
A husband and a family to my friend and countless, nameless, faceless legions of
single women represents: completion, fulfillment, love. That blessing might arrive.
It might not. If not, it’s a loss. And a loss is worth grieving whether it’s a life or a
dream. No matter the source of the anguish, what’s most important is: what we
tell ourselves in the meantime.
We have to be honest like my friend. Admit we’re in the WWE with God. Our
anger isn’t lost on Him, but sometimes it eludes us. It may be that the wrestling
is the only way to figure out what comes next. Maybe we have to be injured, hurt,
or heartbroken to let go, to see what we don’t see: having it our way isn’t the
only way.