He’s been quiet lately.  Silent even.  And distant.  Though my head tells me my Lord is in fact very present, my heart feels as if He’s far away.  “Are you punishing me, Father?”  “I wouldn’t blame you…”  I mentally go through my most recent shortcomings and shame starts to creep in.  This was my prayer just the other morning when the silence finally broke and I felt the still, small once again.  “That’s not how I work,” He said.

My counselor knows me very well.  Scary well.  When I told her about this recent bout of quiet…and how the season I’m walking in could use His voice right about now; This season of loneliness, discontentment and struggle-“the valley of the shadow,” perhaps.  She asks me in her gentle way: “Are you angry?”

“Who would I be angry at,” I questioned.  She tilted her head…”God?”  I took a breath and answered with good, church girl talk.  How I have no right to be angry with my Father.  That He doesn’t owe me anything….I’m not guaranteed answered prayers, or the desires of my heart after all.  Therefore any anger I have is simply a fleshly response to good, old fashioned entitlement.

“But feelings are feelings,” she responded.  And I started to sob.

Her office feels like a safe space for me, so I’m often crying before I walk through the waiting room door.  She’s used to my tears.  But this was the kind of soul-cleansing sob I needed…feelings pent up for far too long.  Soggy Kleenex started to make a little pile in my lap.

The truth is, I have no problem telling others to “come as you are” before the throne of grace.  Yet, I seem to be standing in the throne-room corridors, peering around the corner…as if I’m afraid to get closer.  So I’ll wait there and usher everyone else, fingers pointing the way to Him in the name of ministry.  All the while ignoring my own growing frustration.  Pretending it’s not there.

I close my eyes and I can almost see it.  See Him.  In His faithfulness, He grabs me by the hand and pulls me from around the corner.  He walks me to the place…the grace place…the mercy seat.  He tells me it’s okay to be angry.  He doesn’t even need me to list the reasons why…He already knows.  And where I expect a harsh word of Truth or discipline, I see Him only pulling me closer.

I wonder if He was quiet so that I would get loud.  So that I would come face to face with everything going on in my heart, and still come face to face with Him.  I wonder…

I’m starting to realize that “fear of the Lord” and human emotion can co-exist.  That it doesn’t have to be one or the other.  That we can respect our Father but also be painfully transparent.  Why do we feel the need to masquerade?  Our Creator KNOWS us.  Inside and out.  And I’m pretty sure He can handle whatever we bring to the table.

So…my name is Amanda and I am mad at God.

It almost feels wrong to type, much less say out loud.  But I’m starting with honesty.  It’s about time.  And as blasphemous as it feels right now, I’m resting in His Truth and not my own.

His Truth says I am accepted…as I am.  I am loved…as I am.  I am held…as I am.

His Truth is the same for all of us, sons and daughters of the Most High.  We are tethered to Him with boundless, unfailing, crazy covenant love.  Nothing can get in the way of His affection for us.  Our human emotion?  It doesn’t stand a chance.