It had been a difficult day.
I like peace. No, that’s an understatement. I NEED peace. I’m a peace addict. I’m not as addicted as I used to be. I used to immediately panic when my peace was disturbed and frantically do whatever it took to try to get it back as soon as possible. I’ve learned to sit with struggle a little longer now, try to let God do what He wants with it. But if it goes on longer than I think it should, I still get twitchy and anxious.
There was no peace to be had that day. Two different issues had arisen from two different areas of my life. (On the same day, no less. Unacceptable.) Both are sort of ongoing situations that will most likely never go away, which can be very demoralizing if I let myself think about it. Most days, I DON’T let myself think about it, for that very reason. But that day, I did. Plus I had been working unusually long hours and my kids had been gone for an unusually long stretch and I missed them. Yep, the day was going south. And I was going to let it.
When the workday ended, I decided I had earned a drink. I know that the times you feel like you NEED a drink are probably exactly when you SHOULDN’T have one. But I didn’t feel like being careful, responsible, gracious, brave or forgiving. I just wanted to feel sorry for myself. So one drink turned into more, as it does on occasion.
I had worked through lunch so the alcohol hit my stomach hard, achieving the desired effect as the storm in my soul gathered strength.
Now in case you’ve never been there, when people have too much to drink, they do things they don’t normally do. (And if you’ve never been there, I’m not sure you and I can be friends.) Normally when I get angry, I don’t talk to God. Sad, yes. Run to His arms. Angry, nah. That’s embarrassing. I try to work through it myself and catch up with Him later when I’m feeling better.
But this was not normal me. This was me on issues, with too much to drink and too much to think. So I did what I never do in a pissed-off state: I started venting to God.
People vent to God all the time. It’s actually a really good idea. There’s nobody safer, no one who loves you more perfectly or unconditionally, and nothing you say is going to shock Him because He already knows. Moses did it, Job did it, David did it. But even following those illustrious examples, it just never felt okay. Until it did.
When Caroline was a challenging two year old, I would usually leave the room during her temper tantrums. I didn’t want to entertain the drama and would reengage when she had calmed down. I guess I thought God would do the same thing. “I’m the Ruler of the Universe. I don’t have to listen to this crap. Come find Me when you’re ready to be human again,” and walk away.
But you know what? He didn’t.
I really let Him have it too. All of it. I started out trying to pray for the people involved, but the best I could do in that moment was to rat them out to God, using a colorful display of bad words. My usual politeness and concern for His feelings were gone. I even blamed Him for letting them hurt me. He should have struck them with lightning. Or at least let them stub/break a toe.
He stayed right there and hung on every word, like a trusted counselor. He didn’t try to soothe me with all the right answers from the Bible that I already knew. He didn’t try to shut it down with tired platitudes about Him being in control and loving my enemies and all that. He stayed right there with me, even empathized, and let the fever run its course.
I saw a beautiful picture of this one time that I’ll never forget. I was at a large get together with Brad’s extended family. One of his cousins has a child who is autistic. As many friends as I have with autistic children, I should have a better understanding of what it is and how it works (or sometimes doesn’t work). But (correct me if I’m wrong, moms) it seems that at times they can get overwhelmed or frustrated or something happens that they can’t cope with, and they just need to lose it for a minute. Well, from what I could tell across the room, that’s what was happening. The precious little boy, who was probably around five, was starting to yell and struggle, the volume escalating rapidly.
Now if it had been people-pleaser, codependent me as the mother in that situation, I would have snatched him up and hurried out of the room so as not to disturb anyone or make anyone uncomfortable. But his superhero mom did just the opposite. She knelt down next to him, completely took on his frustration, decided that she would get mad about whatever he was mad about, and turned him loose. “Go ahead,” she told him, in her Southern drawl. “It’s okay. Just work it on out. That’s right. Go right ahead.”
I was floored. That mom in that moment didn’t give a rip what anybody else thought. She knew what her son needed to do, so she got right next to him and let him do it. Just blew my ever-lovin’ mind. What a rock star.
God reminded me of that picture that night as the storm began to pass. He didn’t leave. I didn’t leave. We stood together in my mess. He wasn’t put off. He wasn’t disappointed. In fact, I think He was thrilled that I finally let Him get close to me in one of my least appealing states when I would usually hide. (Probably wasn’t thrilled at how I got there, but He didn’t bring it up.)
I called it a night and got into bed. I imagined leaning against Him, post temper tantrum, and resting in His presence. I remembered the verse in Mark 4 after Jesus had calmed the storm. The disciples looked at each other and said, “Who is this? Even the wind and the waves obey Him!”
And that night, the wind and the waves were smarter than I was. But God didn’t care. He was still there.
I know, know, KNOW what the Bible says: That He’ll never leave nor forsake me, that His love for me is immeasurable. I know that. And of course I’ve done horrible things that He’s forgiven me for, but I never purposely did it in FRONT of Him. I had never been stupid enough to deliberately test that love, to attempt to stay with Him while I was stupid, to be stupid to His face.
As my liquid courage began to wear off, I realized how disrespectful I had been to my King. Shame and embarrassment started to creep in and my old need-to-hide impulse washed over me. But it didn’t get far.
He had been there for the whole thing. And He was still there. My unintentional experiment proved His word true.
You’re still Mine, you know. You have always been Mine and you will always be Mine. My love for you is not based on good behavior. I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere. Ever. You can be mad at Me, but I can take it. You can run from Me, but I will catch you. You can hide from Me, but I will find you. I want your whole heart. Give it all to Me. Every day. The good, the bad and the ugly. I will always want all of you. You’re still Mine. You’re still Mine.
God’s love and forgiveness are not limited to just before and immediately following an unfortunate incident. My relationship with Him didn’t suffer because of what I said and did that night. And while I don’t plan on testing Him like that again any time soon, I fully experienced His unchanging love, not AFTER a weak moment, but right in the middle of it. As I fell asleep, I decided one more time to believe Him. And it changed me. And that night, I let myself fall in love with Him just a little bit more.
