Angry

Most of the time, I’m pretty angry at God. I yell, I sass, I call out the ruler of the universe for not making things better, not making things right, or at least not making things pretty and simple and perfect like I want them to be. I mean, how am I supposed to trust him, to believe that he’s going to protect me and take care of me, like people always say I should, when I don’t feel like he’s doing much for me and my family right now?

And as I yell at God, at get pissed at trite answers, and wish that God had a physical body so I could kick him in the shins, the only things that give me any bit of comfort are these words that Jesus spoke:

“My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death.” (from Matthew 26:38)

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (from Matthew 27:46)

My souls is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death. My God, my God, why have you forsaken me.

I’m not the only one who’s pissed at God. I’m not the only one who feels hopeless, despairing, completely overwhelmed by how hard things are. Jesus, the savior of the world, the only perfect human, the great teacher, the son of God. Even Jesus felt abandoned by God.

If he can do it, I can do it, right?

It doesn’t answer all the questions. It doesn’t magically make me feel less like wailing on the all-knowing and all-powerful king of everything. But it makes me feel less deserted. It makes me feel less alone. And right now, I’ll take what I can get.