I know that in grieving, anger is OK. Even anger at God. God can handle our anger. But through this process of losing our boy I haven’t been angry at God. I’ve been angry at the circumstance,I’ve been angry at death, and I’ve been angry at fallen humanity. When it comes to God I am: in awe at His goodness, captivated by His mystery, thankful for His incarnation (He sympathizes with my weakness), and I am at peace in His sovereignty. I think with our humanistic mindsets in the western culture, we are quick to think that we are entitled to a lot of things. To think that God is sovereign messes with us, because humanistic ideals want to maintain sovereignty for oneself. As Mark Driscoll stated once, “We have free will…but God’s will is free-er than ours”. Call me crazy, but I’ve been a pathetically-human-sinful-opinionated-hypocritical-self absorbed-messed up-redeemed Christian long enough to know that I don’t want to be the sovereign one in my relationship with God. I am a broken frequency in the white-noise symphony of fallen humanity. But I am loved. I am delighted in. In a humanity where 1+1=2, it doesn’t make sense that I am so depraved yet so cherished by my Maker. But in a place called Grace (the Grace of God), where 2+2=five thousand, I am the son of a King. A sinner, but a saint none-the-less. And the mercy of God echoes out in the tears, and the sobs, and the cries of not being able to see an infinite scope of a plight that is mixed with so many emotions. And in that mercy, a sweet, still, small voice whispers in love (a love that has conquered sin), “Go ahead, let it out”.
…and I smile a smile of hopeless hope. Almost a tear…but more like a laugh.
My Father knows my frame. He knows when I fall or rise. He knows that I am but dust…and He loves me. He knows what it is like to lose an only son.
Hallelujah