God in the Hands of Angry Christians

You're probably not gonna like this post. Just the title is a little off putting. I mean it makes God seem helpless, weak, touchable. Yet, that's how we treat Him sometimes. Ok, maybe not you, let's be safe and say, that's how I treat Him sometimes.

You've heard it before. God I just don't understand, I have been doing this and this and this for you, getting it all right and I just don't get why you could let this happen to me. Or even better (or worse) I can't take this anymore, I'm at the end of my rope. I'm just so done!

I take issue with God when things don't go my way, I misrepresent Him as if His purpose is to make me happy. The problem here is that the relationship is misunderstood. I weas created for His good pleasure, not the other way around. My life is not about me, its about Him and others.

When I vent my disappointment and disillusionment, He can handle it, don't for a minute think that its too much. But think for a minute what is going on here. Look at it from another perspective. I say, "God, I did such and such and live my life right and follow the rules, and still this thing happened and I'm so confused and so mad and so disappointed that you allowed this to touch my life!" He says, "You did this sin and that sin and turned your back on me and broke your promises and yet I still sent my only Son to die on the cross for you!"

There's nothing more that He ever had to do for you, for me...

The ultimate price was paid for my lousy, wretched self-important life and I still have the nerve to expect more. To be angry and bitter and lose hope. To shake my fist at heaven as if He owes me something in exchange for my choice to be His servant and enter into His family.

My perspective is skewed, its faulty, and when I step back and take a breath I recognize it as such. I am powerless in comparison to His almighty strength and still I say, "Its not enough! I want more! I want things to be my way!" I'm like a spoiled child only thinking of myself or the way I see things as the correct and appropriate one.

Even before I'm all done flailing my opinions around and kicking and screaming for my voice to be heard and understood and heeded, He stoops down and scoops me up and like all loving Fathers holds me close until the tantrum is done. I'm very certain that His Father heart aches with the false accusations I declared against His love for me and care for my well being. Yet, He still loves me and cherishes me enough to allow me to come back again and again and say, "I'm sorry, You were right..."


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