Walking the rails

I screamed at God on Monday. In the midst of my tantrum throwing and yelling, "It's not fair!" I remembered our pastor's sermon from Sunday. Of all the stories from the Bible that one would think is the most unrelatable to grief, it would be the story of Jonah. Basically, God asked Jonah to do something, and Jonah didn't want to do it because he thought he knew better. He was convinced that the people of Nineveh should get what they deserve because he knew that if they repented, God wouldn't give them what they deserved. He knew God was gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in love. Jonah was mad. Jonah thought he had every right to be angry. The sermon struck me because I related to Jonah. I was mad. I, too, felt I had every right to be angry. Like Jonah, I questioned God's actions, convinced He didn't know what He was doing. 

I've been walking the rail of grief for weeks now, and it is a tiring balancing act. I don't know if I've sorted anything out, but I have come to the conclusion that my life can't be all about my loss. God does not intend for His children to live in despair any more than I intend for my children to live in it. There is joy, though it may mean I have to mine for it.(Isaiah 45:3)
  

 “God has not been trying an experiment on my faith or love in order to find out their quality. 

He knew it already. It was I who didn't.”

― C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed  

I cried out to God telling Him that I needed to know He was there. When I opened Ann Voskamp's devotional email yesterday, I laughed. It was titled, "When You Need to Know God's There" Obviously, God was telling me He is here.