Can I just get real here for a second? Most of the time, I don’t think that God really cares about me that much. I know he loves me, in a theoretical, theological, grand scheme of things kind of way, but in a real, intimate, personal way? I don’t think he gives a crap. I “know” this is not true, but I believe it anyway.
I have had a thorn in the flesh (see 2 Corinthians 12) kind of deal going on for a little over two years, which I realize is not a long time when you compare it to, well, a longer time. But in this case, two years is a long time. And the end is nowhere in sight. I realize that suffering produces a bunch of other things, which produce character, and character produces hope which doesn’t disappoint us but seriously? Honestly? While in many settings I can see the value of character-building, in this case I cannot see that the character I will perhaps develop will be worth what I miss out on because of this “thorn”.
I have prayed, and cried and cried and cried. No change. No insight. No comfort. So now I’m mad. I know we’re not supposed to get mad at God, but there it is. I love Madeleine L’Engle, among other things for her beautiful books, but not the least of which for this prayer:
I hate you.
Hey, at least we’re still talking, right? I know we will get through this. It’s just kind of nasty while it’s happening.