When it all rises up in you


It doesn’t happen all that often. Mostly I’m just so grateful to be His. But that day was different and I wasn’t liking it. I know He can handle the rest of the mess. The fear. The ache. But this? Anger? At Him?

I tried to pretend I was okay with the situation. I didn’t want to express the anger. Didn’t want to feel it. I love Him. I need Him. I don’t want to shout at Him.

“I trust you.” I do. But maybe not enough to obey when he urges honesty: “Let it come. It needs to come out.”

I try to hide: “I’m not really angry.”

He finds me: “Then why did you uncheck that song on itunes?”

We both know the answer already, but His question demands a response. Fine then: “I don’t want to listen to that song because it clashes too hard with my reality. It makes me want to yell at you and I don’t want to do that. “

I don’t say what I’m thinking, that just today I don’t want to lie still in his presence either (will the silence break me open?) That today I’m even afraid to ask for help, afraid that if he doesn’t answer quickly enough the unanswered questions will all rush out and I’ll find myself vomiting the contents of my churning heart all over his bright white holiness.

The story I’m (now) glad I overheard

It happened as they were driving up the ramp onto the ferry. Sensing something not right, she had just taken the baby out of his carseat. “If anything went wrong, I wanted him on my lap.” She still felt the same when she was telling the story the day after she had sat long in the car with the windows down. The day after she had thrown away her shorts spoiled by her baby’s bellyful of purple cherries.

“When something goes wrong, I want you on my lap.” Not strapped down. Not turned away. He’d rather have a lapful of purple cherries than have me out of his reach (and where’s that, anyway?). Rather have us beating our little fists on his chest than turning away to ache alone.

“Long enough, GOD—

you’ve ignored me long enough.

I’ve looked at the back of your head

long enough.   Long enough

I’ve carried this ton of trouble,

lived with a stomach full of pain.

Long enough my arrogant enemies

have looked down their noses at me.

                   . . . . .

Take a good look at me, GOD, my God;

I want to look life in the eye,

So no enemy can get the best of me

or laugh when I fall on my face.

                   . . . . .

I’ve thrown myself headlong into your arms—

I’m celebrating your rescue.

I’m singing at the top of my lungs,

I’m so full of answered prayers.”

(Psalm 13, The Message)

Related posts:

Beating on the chest of God

When life disappoints