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I posed a question to God one day… it was a conversation unfit for tea time in the parlor, and was a very heated conversation. I was in the driver’s seat of my car, sweltering in the heat of the Arizona desert that had recently become my new home.
I was riddled with pain, and in desperate need of a 9-1-1 response from heaven. My body was weak from the need for medical attention, while my spirit was grieving yet another loss that had long been the hallmark of my life.
I was far from home, alone and without resources; but my deepest pain was that I felt far from the presence of God.
I had just received the news that my father had passed. The pain racking my body couldn’t begin to compare to the waves of grief that assailed me at the news of his passing.
I didn’t realize it then, but I was in exactly the place God intended for me to be. It was one of the saddest, most horrific days of my life and it seemed that God wasn’t even paying attention!
At that moment, all I could feel was the final loss of my hopes for a relationship with the man who would now be absent forever. I was angry with him for leaving me again, and resented the pain that was attached to my lifetime of fatherless memories.
The news of my father’s passing triggered a lifetime of stifled emotions. I threw myself at God’s feet, but I didn’t arrive in a beautiful white dress, or with the ability to engage in a rational conversation.
I arrived at His throne, once again, as a shattered and battered child who was ever searching for the unconditional love of father.
I was confused, lonely, sick, and very, very angry. I couldn’t reconcile the love of God with the realities of my life. I couldn’t understand how a loving God could ignore me as I wept in despair. I not only felt abandoned by my father, I felt abandoned by God!
The festering emotions that had lain dormant for years came rushing forth like a mighty raging river. I was in a public place, but the pain wouldn’t wait for me to find a private place for my conversation with God.
I picked up my cell phone so it would look like I was talking with “someone.”
Through tears of anguish, I raged at God…
“Why don’t you love me? Why aren’t you doing something to help me? I need a dentist, but I am terrified of them! I’m so sick with another abscessed tooth, and you don’t even care! How can you let me keep suffering like this?
My dad is gone for good, and I can’t ask him for help. You are supposed to be my father! If you were here in the flesh I would call you for help.
I need my own place; and furniture, and money to pay the bills. Why won’t you heal me so I can work, and pay my bills and take care of my daughter? I can’t even take care of myself, how can I begin to take care of her???
Why are you ignoring me? If you love me so much, why don’t you show up? Why don’t you care enough about me to take care of me? I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired, and you don’t care enough to do anything about it!“
Deep wounds of rejection were draining the life from my life, and God had no intention of allowing them to destroy His good plans for me.
God knew it would require deep pruning of my childhood memories to heal my mind and bring me to emotional wholeness. I didn’t know it then, but the questions I hurled at God that day were part of the process I needed to turn the course of my life.
My tears eventually subsided, and I headed back to the temporary home that would eventually become yet another stepping stone to my brighter future.
God had a reason for His silence that day. There was divine purpose hidden within the release of my deep seated pain, but the question had now become, would I be willing to wait for God to reveal it to me?
My eternal destiny was at stake, and I can almost imagine that Father God held his breath as He waited for my response…
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