Some days are just OFF. Some days my kids and I do not communicate well at all. We don’t understand what the other is talking about and some topics of conversation just get abandoned for lack of understanding.
But other days I am ON. This most often occurs with my daughter. She can be going into this rather lengthy recitation of some story and mid-stream I’ll tell her the answer to the question I know is set to come at the end. “How do you do that??” She is amazed. “I’m the Mom, that’s how. Moms just know.” It’s our job to understand our kids and know what they are thinking before they tell us. How else do parents survive teenagers?
Not so long ago I emailed a pastoral adviser and told him I had some things I wanted to question God about. His response wasn’t exactly what I was expecting. “Well, it’s about time!” he wrote. “Get on with it already!” So I was mentally making my list and checking it twice – first and foremost was the age-old complaint of “It’s not fair.” I was making plans as to when and where I could bring my list to God. This was going to be big. I had some sense of relief and satisfaction just knowing I was going to have my say.
Next morning, first patient arrived for me to help her with her feet and somehow in the process she told me about how her husband died. Her story was horrible. Then, without my asking her opinion, she informed me, “Some things we just can’t know why.” And POOF! There went my complaint list. How does He do that?
It’s certainly not the first time He’s interrupted me like that. I don’t even have the opportunity to officially ask, and He sends an answer. Now how am I supposed to develop my thought and get it off my proverbial chest when I already know what He’s going to say? He’ll say things like, My grace is sufficient for you. Or, I will provide for all your needs. Or, I am a Father to the fatherless. Or, I am a defender of the widow. Or, Vengeance is Mine. I don’t want to discount the value of His answers, but I had some things I wanted to ask and say.
Dear God, I’d really like to be able to develop my thoughts into at least a full sentence, or possibly even a paragraph now and then. Don’t go away. But could You please quit interrupting me with Your answers for just a minute and let me finish asking my questions? And if You could allow for two seconds of prophetic time for complaining, I imagine that would also provide some sense of satisfaction. All my love, Your daughter.
Cover With His Life 
God's Miracle Girl
/ January 10, 2012I thought He only did that to me!? Something else interesting to me is how His answers are never long-winded. 1-2 words, sometimes a short sentence. I think the long answer I’ve ever had was six words. He has a way of summing things up…
His Salt
/ January 10, 2012So true. I made His answers pretty formal sounding Bible texts in the post. They are usually more like “I’ve got you.”
jon
/ January 11, 2012Maybe when we really believe that His grace is sufficient, the questions will not even form…or maybe the questions are His way of getting us to really listen?
His Salt
/ January 11, 2012Your view of faith is beautiful. The only peace I find for my questioning is watching Christ sweat prostrate on the ground in the garden saying, “Daddy, do I really have to do this? Isn’t there another way?” I’m glad He asks me to ‘reason’ with Him. It’s just that what I have to say quickly fades away into unreasonable when my great God steps in the room.
Holding On
/ January 13, 2012This is so true, I guess you have to look at it as a blessing, he didn’t allow you to sin through complaining but he saved you from it. He is a gracious God.
His Salt
/ January 14, 2012I like to think He couldn’t wait for me to finally get it out before He sent comfort.
Shelley Weaver
/ February 26, 2013This is why I LOVE the Psalms. The process is acted out by another of God’s kids right before our eyes. At first David rails, complains and frankly, bellyaches. But there are no lightning-strikes, no thunderbolts, no “how dare you’s” from the Almighty. Then something in the dialogue inevitably changes. The miracle? DAVID is the one who’s heart changes and is moved. Like me, I am sure you love the way writing allows you to examine your heart. The Psalms were David’s “blog” so to speak, and the evidence plays out in the poetry. Prayer may not change things the way we want, but it changes us. Gives us better vision, or at least a vision where there once was none. God is not a defensive listener. He has no need to defend or explain, he simply knows we aren’t “there” yet, and he lets us carry on until we are ready. Even in Job, when God thunders out a response, it isn’t to defend the heavenly position or the divine imperative, it serves only to tell Job the exact point you discovered, “Some things you CAN’T understand. It’s just not physically mentally possible for you to process it all.” That’s mercy and grace.