My relationship with God has been… strained over the last few months. My hope and expectation reached a breaking point, and most of what I feel now towards Him is deep disappointment, mistrust, and hurt.
This is not the first time I’ve bumped up against feelings of frustration and (what I feel is a reasonable amount of) indignation that I’ve strained and worked and sought after Him in various ways for the past decade and feel like, in return, I’ve been left out to dry. Countless doors closed in my face. Countless disappointing circumstantial turns and twists. Countless opportunities and hopes and strivings cut loose to float away down the river while I watched from shore. This time, it was too much for me and felt deeper somehow. I’m no longer in my 20’s, when bones healed faster and things didn’t matter as much. I’m 32, and the stark realities of what my life looks like ficsally and otherwise feel like my aching old body that doesn’t bounce back like it used to – more dire.
So here I sit, pressed under a massive boulder of disappointment and anger that I can’t even budge. Right now I am working towards wanting to want to trust Him again. It’s not moving very fast. Most days, I just feel miffed that it’s not easy to feel justified in a domestic tiff with a perfect entity. I know we’ll work through our estranged domestic relationship someday. Am I in a big hurry to do that? I haven’t conjured that level of urgency yet.
In a moment of being a little bit more open to trying yesterday (before the clouds closed and I was angry again), the image of a small sapling sprang to mind. The metaphor’s subtext appeared in full form as well. I think the hope I had in God at the beginning grew like a vine, firmly attached to circumstantial outcomes I thought I was owed if I was dutifully pious and obedient. My relationship with God has been largely founded in transactional arrangements. In return for my service I expected Him to provide for me a job that paid enough to cover the bills, circumstances I liked well enough, and a journey that made sense and trended in the right direction (up). When I received detours, want, uncertainty, humble arrangements, and meandering instead, my little hope vine that had been growing up the sides of what turned out to be fictitious ended up in the dirt.
The sermon preached at our church on Sunday (shoutout to Sacred Grace Englewood) was painfully relatable. It painted a portrait of disappointment in God. And then it suggested, kindly and rightfully, that He didn’t actually ever promise cushy jobs or easy paths. He promised His presence in all things and all ways, and an ultimate resolution we are still waiting (hoping?) for.
The meaning of the sapling became clear. I had been nurturing an unsustainable hope — one bound only for disappointment and resentment. The sapling represented a healthy hope, one disattached from circumstantial milestones. What if my hope in God wasn’t propped up by how my life went? What if I could believe that God is good regardless of whether my life looked great or crappy?
This is theoretical at the moment. I think the seeds are planted, but it’s still hard to comprehend actually feeling that kind of hope. But hey, it’s worth thinking about.
-LS
Schwaar, this is so good. I felt this way too after Levi died. I was angry at God for letting me make a fool of myself by expecting Him to keep a promise (that my child would live) that He never actually made! I spent so many months afterward leaning into Him out of obedience and habit rather than delight, every meditation darkened by suspicion. I felt angry that He knew the outcomes and didn’t warn me. You’re so right. He rarely promises specific tangible outcomes for our lives. But He promises and demonstrates His unfailing presence with us as we navigate the path He’s set before us. It’s hard to want that company when you feel like you can’t trust it. But trust grows over time, doesn’t it, when we better understand the promises He DOES make and we see how they’ve come to fruition. Keep writing, friend. Keep hoping.