The other night I got really pissed off with God. Let me qualify that: I wasn’t necessarily pissed WITH God – it was more with my understanding of how His process works. I was pissed because we’re supposed to be moving to South Africa in a few months and we don’t have wads of cash in our pockets or nary a box packed. We don’t have prospects to rent our house while we’re gone, NOR do we have the $x,000 to pay off the mortgage in lieu of a renter.
(In hind sight, none of this is really God’s fault, but I’d been working on snatches of sleep for almost a month. I can now say I was hardly what you call ‘lucid’ when I was making my complaint to Heaven.)
Anyways, here’s what I said to God, Lord Almighty and Master of the Universe in the midnight hour:
“You know what, God? If you want us to move to South Africa, then YOU make it happen. I’m not sending out any more letters, I’m not beggin’ no more people, I ain’t doin’ squat till I see some effort on YOUR part. If YOU want this project to work and this is YOUR will for OUR lives, then YOU work it out. I’m open to see what YOU got. There.”
I’m cringing as I type this even now. I mean, the Bible says you are supposed to approach the throne of grace with humility. God draws near to a broken spirit and a contrite heart…and there was nothing broken or contrite about my approach. I mean, I was being a downright brat.
To backtrack, Marshall and I have decided to move to South Africa this year to do missions work. We’ve had loads of wonderful financial advice, but none of it has bloomed into anything tangible. We’ve been chronicling parts of our transition on www.34degrees.org. (click on it)
I guess in my frustration with God was that I had not hit the winning lottery number for $x million (never mind that I don’t even PLAY the lottery) or that Oprah and/or Bill Gates had not telepathically figured out that we need some money to move, live, and begin investment projects once we got there. I mean, hadn’t GOD told them? He knows we don’t have a salary waiting for us when we get there. Didn’t He relay the message to all His children who HAVE the money?
Apparently not. No one has magically dialed my (unlisted) number to offer me the logistical assistance we need to make the move.
My dad once told me (with worry and exasperation) that I prayed like I was fighting with God. I want to say “I’m sorry, God”. I don’t mean to yell…that’s just how I talk.
I still haven’t changed my mind about God making this happen…but I will be more mindful about my tone when I make my inquiries to the Most High. In the meantime, if you happen to be, or know, a millionaire reading this blog, holler at us at 34degrees.org! #notice