I Was Really Angry at God

Fair warning! This is a longer than normal post and it was a difficult one for me to write. I love to share stories that show evidence of God’s peace and comfort and faithfulness in my life–and there are many of them. But in mostly sharing those reflections, I worry that I have inadvertently put a lovely Instagram filter over a very bleak time–a time when I was often exhausted and feeling abandoned and forgotten. A time when, quite frankly, I was very mad at God. I know many of you have been there or are there now. So, bear with me as I share a darker story today… 

We knew Christmas 2017 would be our last time to celebrate with Mike. I wanted so badly for it to be a sweet, memorable day. I made sure all our traditions were in place. The Star Trek Christmas tree fully displayed Mike’s ornament collection (it isn’t Christmas at the Bratton house until Spock wishes you Happy Holidays), all four of our coordinating stockings hung over the fireplace, we read the story of the birth of Jesus together from Luke 2, and Ben and Emma opened their annual Christmas Eve gifts. The kids went upstairs to their rooms for the night and I set out the rest of their beautifully wrapped gifts and filled their stockings until they were bursting. I checked on Mike, gave him his nighttime medications, and went to sleep excited for the morning. My plan was to get up early, enjoy a leisurely cup of coffee (or three), fix brunch, then wake the kids mid-morning so we could all gather by Mike’s bedside, open gifts, laugh, and enjoy being together for one final Christmas.   

Morning came and after hitting snooze a couple of times I headed to get dressed. After a few moments, I heard a series of loud noises. Thinking one of the kids had gotten up early and bounded down the stairs excited to open gifts, I rushed out, immediately noticed Mike wasn’t in his bed and froze. I knew that something was terribly wrong. Mike had been under the care of home hospice for about five weeks. He was spending most of each day in his hospital bed, unable to get up or down without significant assistance. His pain was often unbearable and the amount of medication he required would have been lethal to many of us. The medication caused memory loss and hallucinations. Additionally, the cancer had metastasized to his brain and caused confusion, unpredictable behavior, and reduced motor control. That he was not in his bed was startling.  

I began a frantic search and found him in the floor of our hall bathroom, curled in the fetal position, sobbing. As I approached him, he screamed at me to get away. It was obvious he was utterly terrified. He had no idea who I was and pleaded with me not to hurt him. He chanted over and over that he was sorry, and that he would behave. I tried to reassure him and told him we needed to get him up, but he became frantic and told me that he was going to be beaten for running away. Of course, all the commotion woke the kids and they came downstairs to witness this horrific scene. I tried for almost an hour to get him off the floor and into his wheelchair, but he was so consumed by the terror of the story happening in his head, he fought me. With tears streaming down my face, I finally gave up and called 911. The EMTs came, picked Mike up and moved him back to his bed. I was able to get enough medicine in him to calm him down and he dozed off for a bit of restless sleep.  

I spent the next half hour cleaning up the bathroom, railing at God the whole time. I was SO ANGRY. Why would God let THIS be the last Christmas memory with Mike? Hadn’t the past two years been hard enough? If God really loved us, why was he allowing Mike to suffer in so much pain? I poured out my heart with those tears. I had been strong for everyone, taking care of Mike, encouraging the kids, managing Mike’s care along with our home and my job, trusting that God would be faithful, and had a purpose for this–but I was DONE. I was exhausted–mentally, emotionally, physically and spiritually. This was cruel. This was unfair. This was a darkness in which I saw no light, a despair in which I felt absolutely no hope.  

Let me stop and say this. I do not believe we are ever justified in being angry at God. Being mad at God implies that we believe He is getting it all wrong–and He never does. He does all things well. He is good and kind, always. When we are angry at God, it is sin and we need to confess and ask forgiveness. But we are broken. And in our brokenness, anger at God is a natural expression of our lack of trust and understanding.  

So, what do we do when we feel angry at God?  I think we need to model our response after David by seeking, crying, remembering, and praising.  Often the first thing that comes to mind when we think of David is that He was a “man after God’s own heart; a man of God’s choosing” and that is true, but we elevate David to hero status when in reality He was very, very broken too. He sinned often and many times that sin had disastrous consequences for his family and his kingdom. David was just like us.  

I sometimes think that if God had not chosen David to be king and the backup shepherd or harp thing didn’t work out, he would have been an actor. David was, let’s just say, emotionally available! He was honest and raw and did not hesitate to express His frustration and anguish. We see this in some familiar Psalms: 

Psalm 13: 1-2: “How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me? How long must I take counsel in my soul and have sorrow in my heart all the day? How long shall my enemy be exalted over me?”

Psalm 22: 1-2: “My God, my God why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from saving me, from the words of my groaning? Oh my God, I cry by day, but you do not answer, and by night, but I find no rest.” 

David and I had a lot in common as I cried and cleaned up the bathroom that Christmas morning, although admittedly, I was much less eloquent. But this is exactly what God yearns for us to do–to run to Him, to cry out to Him. He knows our every emotion and thought anyway, even if we don’t say them out loud. He knew every thought we would ever have before He created us, before He even formed the world. And He loves us anyway.  Even when we are angry at Him, He longs to give us comfort, encouragement, and peace.   

David sought God and poured out his fractured heart, but he didn’t dwell in his anger and despair. Each time, He quickly recalled God’s goodness and faithfulness and unfailing love. Keep reading in those Psalms. 

Psalm 13:5-6: “But I have trusted in your steadfast love; My heart shall rejoice in your salvation. I will sing to the Lord, because he has dealt bountifully with me.”

Psalm 22:3-4: “Yet you are holy, enthroned on the praises of Israel. In you our fathers trusted; they trusted, and you delivered them. To you they cried and were rescued; In you they trusted and were not put to shame.” 

David sought God, shed his tears, but then he remembered. He recounted all the ways that God had been faithful in the past. He recalled God’s salvation and love and graciousness. He reminded his heart that it could trust God and would not be put to shame. He sought, cried, remembered, and in remembering, he worshiped. May this be our response when we are angry with God.

Psalm 63:1-4 “O God, you are my God: earnestly I seek you; my soul thirsts for you; my flesh faints for you, as in a dry and weary land where there is no water. So I have looked upon you in the sanctuary, beholding your power and glory. Because your steadfast love is better than life, my lips will praise you. So I will bless you as long as I live; in your name I will lift up my hands.”