It’s 10:45 on Sunday morning. Most weeks at this time you can find me in
one of two places: the children’s wing
or the sanctuary of my church. Today is
no exception as I stand next to my husband while the familiar music
starts. Usually worship is my favorite
thing ever. I could sing along to praise
and worship music for hours. But today I’m
not feeling it.
Because today I’m mad
at God.
I’m mad at God and I’ve spent two weeks avoiding speaking to
Him. Because two weeks ago He let my third
baby die.
But I’m still standing here.
I’m still singing the words on the screen to my Savior. As I sing along, the dialogue of a thirteen year old mouths
off at God in my head. (Yes, I know He
can hear my thoughts. I just didn’t want
to horrify the nice older couple to my left by speaking them out loud.)
We’re singing Hillsong’s “Here I Am To Worship” as I mouth
off to God reminiscent of a hormonal teenager…
Here I am to worship…Here I am to bow down…
I don’t really want to
bow down to you right now, not after what you let happen to me.
Altogether lovely, altogether worthy, altogether wonderful
to me…
You don’t feel so
wonderful, God. This does not feel
wonderful at all. I don’t feel
thankful. I don’t feel freedom in You.
This continues for all of the worship portion of the
service. I stand and sing praises to God
while mouthing off to Him in my head.
Despite my anger, I’m still singing praises. Despite my anger, I still showed up on Sunday
morning. I still encouraged women to
come to the new Bible study I’m leading this fall. I still planned with my friend and co-leader
to make the Bible study successful and meaningful for the women who
attend. Some days I get my Bible out and
read it.
But I can’t bring myself to directly talk to Him, unless I’m
mouthing off. I’m not ready yet. So I just stand and sing praises.
Because I know…I know He’s still there. The Jesus I asked into my heart thirteen years ago has
NEVER left me or forsaken me. God is
still good and has good plans for me.
The Bible is still the truth. I
live in a fallen world where bad things happen.
Babies die before they take a breath, not just mine but the babies of
many mothers. Horrific crashes kill
innocent people. Cancers eat away at the
bodies of the best kind of people. Yes,
God can do miracles. But none of us were
meant to live forever, at least not here on Earth.
Someday my husband, my daughter, myself, we will all die and
be reunited with three innocent babies in Heaven. In the meantime, God has plans for me and He
will use this loss, this pain, this struggle for good. I don’t know how. But I know He will.
How? How can I
know? I know because He’s done it
before. I know because I spent twenty
years under a dark cloud of anxiety and depression only to be completely healed
and at peace in my heart. I know because
out of a sinful union came the most beautiful, precocious daughter and an
amazing marriage. I know because each
time the enemy tries to knock me down, God sends an army of love my way,
believers and non-believers both, to remind me that the people I’ve surrounded
myself with want to support and help my family through each difficulty.
So someday I’ll live in a place where death has NO
hold. Someday my husband and daughter
will, too. We’ve prayed to Jesus. We’ve told Him thank you for His gift of life
and asked for forgiveness. We’ve been
reborn. We’re just not living in the
world we were reborn for. My babies are
waiting for me and when God’s plans for me are finished, I’ll join them in
Heaven.
God does have great plans for me. He’s carrying me through the tough
times. I know this. And sometime soon I know He and I will talk it out and His arms of comfort, mercy, and grace will wrap around me. But right now I’m still feeling angry. So I’m going to stand there and sing
praises. But inside, I’m thirteen and I’ve
slammed my bedroom door.
It’s okay, though. My
Father in Heaven is big enough to handle me.
