Angry at God

“The towers are burning, and my dear husband is inside.  And just like the spoiled brat who hears the word ‘No’ for the first time, I throw a fit.  A tantrum.  A full-scale protest to God.

I cursed Him.  I shook my fists at Him.  I could not imagine why He would take away the most important person in my life.  And so it went on night after night — screaming matches with my Creator after my family left me alone.  Anger that began to burn a hole inside my heart.

My anger was completely directed at God.  After all, I prayed to God to protect Jim.  I believed and trusted in God.

Most people don’t analyze their relationship with God until it appears that God has failed them.  Tragedies are a fork in the road of faith:  Tragic events will either make you turn your back on God and abandon faith — or they will bring you closer to Him.

God knew I was angry and why.  God expected me to be angry with Him.  He created me.  He knew my every thought and word.  I didn’t have to yell and curse at Him.  He already knew how I felt.

I realized I had to make a critical decision:  Did I really believe in God?  Or was faith merely a two-thousand-year-old concept fabricated to help us cope better with the trials of life?  Was there really an eternity called Heaven, or was Heaven just another fabrication to help us cope with the loss of someone we dearly love?  I live only an hour away from Atlantic City, but I’ve never been a gambler.  Now I had to decide whether or not to put all my chips on the table.  I must bet it all, or nothing.  There was no ‘maybe,’ no room for gray areas, not when my life and eternity were at stake.

My anger at God was proof that I still believed He existed.  Otherwise, I couldn’t be angry with Him.  It became clear to me — I wasn’t questioning God’s existence.  I was questioning His actions.  I was questioning the wisdom of His plan.  I was questioning the reason for this madness.  I was questioning why He didn’t answer my prayers.  But, I was not questioning the existence of God Himself.

So my anger toward God started out in bitterness:  How dare You?  You could have stopped this from happening, and You didn’t.

It eventually subsided from anger to disappointment:  I just don’t understand, God.  Why, please tell me why, why why…..

And in time, it got downgraded even further to acceptance:  Okay, if this is Your will, I don’t have much choice but to accept it.  I don’t have to like it, but I will accept it.  Just help me get through it, that’s all.

Jennifer Sands/A Tempered Faith

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