Anger

I’ve been asked by a couple of people if I have had any anger toward God.  I think that’s a strange question.  Why would I be angry at God when this is not his fault?

I could see being angry at God about a disease, or barrenness, or never falling in love.  It would seem that those things would be more directly caused at the hands of God than my husband’s arrest would be. 

But the question I’ve asked myself is, if I’m not angry at God about allowing those things in other people’s lives, than how could I be angry with him if it happens in my life?  God is the same God to that stranger with a chronic disease as he is to me.  If it is unfair and cruel for any person to get cancer, then I should be angry with him about that, not just when it happens to me.  God’s character does not change based on the circumstances of my life.  Why does our reaction to him change with our circumstances, then?  Cancer exists in the world, whether it exists in my life or not.  Should I be thankful to him for sparing me from it (while hitting someone else with it), and then angry with him when it attacks me?   

Back to my situation, I am not angry with God, but I am confused.  I’d like to say that he got the plan wrong this time.  I can’t see how my husband’s arrest could be the best course of events for our lives.  In my head, of course, I know how foolish that sounds.  God knows better than me what is best.  I know that I can trust him with that responsibility.  But a part of me still wants to argue that he was wrong this time.  My plan was better.  And then the other part of me says, “Obviously not.”

I am also thankful to God for everything else in my life.  How can I review my life and not be overwhelmed by how blessed I am?  My childhood, my parents, my schooling, my health, my son, my abilities, my family, my friends, my church, my job – I am so amazingly blessed!  God has given me so many good things that a majority of the people in the world do not have.  How could I be angry with him about giving me this life?  It has been - and still is - blessed beyond what I see as “normal” in the world around me.

Part of my reaction may also be my personality.  I’ve never been an angry person.  Even now, when anger towards my husband is a natural and expected reaction, I only get flashes of anger that immediately morph into sadness. 

I’ve thought about anger a lot lately.  Anger is characteristic of God, and therefore it is a virtue.  We don’t think of it as such because it is more often expressed as a vice.  But anger can motivate us to correct an injustice, to stand for righteousness, to speak against evil.  In that way, anger is definitely a good thing.  But it’s a virtue I don’t have.  I can get angry about the injustice in the world, but mostly it just breaks my heart.  

Am I mad at my husband?  Sometimes.  But mostly I’m heartbroken.  For him.  For my son.  For myself.  For a world bursting with sadness and pain and sin and shame.

If I were to get mad at God about anything, it would be for allowing the world to get like this.  Why does he allow so much heartache?  It seems unjust and cruel.

But then I remember what he did to correct the world and offer it hope.  I remember that he came to earth as a man and died on the cross to take away the weight of our sin.  I remember that he came back to life to offer us hope of a better life, a new life in him.  I don’t understand why he allows the evil that is present in our world.  But I can’t fault him for not offering an alternative.  He went to extreme lengths to offer us something better.

On this Easter weekend, I pray that the weight of this world is lessened by hearts turning to the cross of Christ and accepting the alternative he offers to us.

Denial

I have had so much food for thought this week.  When I think of what I should write about, my mind jumps from topic to topic, question to question, without setlling on any one thing.  So I started re-reading some of the material I've written and read, and I think it would be appropriate to share some more of the ideas from The Wounded Heart.

Mostly I will just paste excerpts from the text, but I do want to say that even though this book was written with sexual abuse victims in mind, I believe the concepts and theories outlined apply to anyone who has been wounded by another. I have never been sexually abused or abused in any way, and yet I find the text enlightening for my current situation. It's my untrained and inexpert opinion that the truths in this book are universal for all wounded hearts.

The following excerpts about denial are from the Prologue to The Wounded Heart, by Dan Allender.

                “What is the enemy?  ...  What must be done to lift the shroud of shame and contempt?  The answer involves a strategy that seems to intensify the problem:  peer deeply into the wounded heart.  The first great enemy to lasting change is the propensity to turn our eyes away from the wound and pretend things are fine.  The work of restoration cannot begin until a problem is fully faced…

                “There is a natural reluctance to face the problem.  Christians seem to despise reality.  We tend to be squeamish when looking at the destructive effects of sin.  It is unpleasant to face the consequences of sin – our own and others’.  To do so seems to discount the finished and sufficient work of our Savior.  And so we pretend we’re fine, when in fact, we know that something is troubling our soul…

                “Forgiveness built on ‘forgetfulness’ is a Christian version of a frontal lobotomy…

                “To be told, ‘The past is the past and we are new creatures in Christ, so don’t worry about what you can’t change,’ at first relieves the need to face the unsightly reality of the destructive past.  After a time, however, the unclaimed pain of the past presses for resolution, and the only solution is to continue to deny.  The result is either a sense of deep personal contempt for one’s inability to forgive and forget, or a deepened sense of betrayal toward those who desired to silence the pain of the abuse in a way that feels similar to the perpetrator’s desire to mute the victim.  Hiding the past always involves denial; denial of the past is always a denial of God.  To forget your personal history is tantamount to trying to forget yourself and the journey that God has called you to live…

                “Christians believe in the possibility of healing or deep personal change.  Change ... is the result of God’s working in the person.  This work enables us to love as Christ loved, to serve as He served, and to be of one mind with others as He is with the Father…  The results are seldom, if ever, close to the ideal…  Does the gospel really work to transform lives?  The data is at times questionable.  Therefore the Christian community feels disposed to deny any data that points to the thorns and thistles in the lives of those who claim to be filled with the power of God…

                “Let us as Christians acknowledge without shame that regeneration does not alleviate, or in fact diminish, the effects of sin quickly or permanently in this life.  If we accept that, we are free to face the parts of our souls that remain scarred and damaged by the effects of sexual abuse without feeling that we are denying the gospel.”

Balance

A topic that has come up repeatedly over the past few weeks is the inclination to hide from the truth.  When the truth hurts, or when we don't know how to deal with it, we tend to shove it in a corner and pray that God will deal with it while we look the other way.  At least that's what I did in this situation.

And yet there is some validity in looking the other way.  I tend to be a worrier.  When the recession hit, I had no idea how we were going to meet all of our financial obligations.  That uncertainty weighed very heavily on me.  And it lasted for months.  I had to force myself to think of other things and to find ways to get my mind off of the problems.  I found myself considering this question at the time - at what point does "getting your mind off of it" become avoidance or escape?  And at what point does examining your problems and searching for a solution become worry?

I've been asking similar questions over the past couple of weeks.  At what point does faith in God's provision become financial irresponsibility?  At what point does working hard to be financially responsible become neglect of family and being unavailable for God's purposes?  At what point does healthy rest and availability become laziness? 

At what point does hope become fantasy?  At what point does facing reality become despair? 

At what point does sadness become negativity and depression?  At what point does a positive attitude become denial?

At what point does forgiveness become enabling?  At what point does "tough love" become a tough heart?

Sometimes I feel like I am on multiple intersecting teeter totters and trying to keep my balance is exhausting.  Sometimes I feel like I am being too hopeful; other times I think I am being too negative.  I spend a lot of time on the "sad" side of the emotional seesaw, but I make plenty of sprints over to the "happy" side.  It's tiring, so I spend more time resting, which makes me feel lazy, and I wonder if I'm avoiding my responsibilities...

Balance, where are you? 

I suppose this will always be something I struggle with.  But I pray I do a better job of facing hard truths in the future.  It's not easy, but neither is avoidance.  I've got to find that healthy spot somewhere in the middle.