Yelling At God

My husband and I were reminded this week of a tragedy our friends experienced thirteen years ago today. Our friends were sweet, young newlyweds, just like us at the time, and they had just welcomed their first child into the world. Their baby girl, Faith, was beautiful. That first week of Faith’s life was difficult, as her mom was blindsided by severe postpartum depression. Dad did all he could to help, but not knowing the signs to look for, he didn’t see the severity of mom’s illness. Just eight days after Faith was born, her life was ended by her mom during a horrific state of postpartum psychosis. We were all in a state of shock as mom was arrested and charged with murder, and our dear friends’ lives were ripped apart. The funeral for baby Faith was one of the most heart-wrenching experiences of my life. I struggle to even write the words. I don’t think I’ll ever truly get over it. I imagine our friends still struggle to make sense of it too, even after all this time. Why, oh why, was evil allowed to prevail? What good could possibly come from so much pain? Questions I’ve yelled at God more than once in my life, haven’t you? Are there things in your past (or still in your present), in which you look to God and yell, “Where were You in that?” It’s okay if you do. Questioning God, venting your anger and frustration, and pouring your heart out to Him, doesn’t make you less of a Christian. It only makes you human.

Somehow we got it into our heads that expressing our negative feelings to God is sinful. Some of us (me included), have even been shamed for it. Years ago, I was called to the carpet by a trusted pastor and his wife, for authentically sharing my struggle to see God’s plan amid multiple failed adoptions. My heart yearned to be a mother and yet the doors kept closing. I was urged to stop sharing everything that was on my heart, as there were so many looking to me as an example of what a faithful pastor’s wife should be. I was told they were praying I wouldn’t be given a child, as clearly I was not right with the Lord. I dared to argue that habitual complaining certainly warrants rebuke, but honest questioning and authenticity? I believe that is honoring the Lord. I didn’t change course, and I’m so glad I didn’t because my vulnerability proved effective in moving others forward in their faith.

I’ve always been an avid reader, but there are only a handful of books that I’ve kept reading over and over again. One of those books is The Shadow of His Hand, written by Judith Couchman. It has brought me comfort and perspective in all seasons of loss and disappointment. One of the chapters is titled, Yelling at God, in which Couchman unpacks the story of the prophet Habakkuk. “Habakkuk yelled at God and lived to write about it. Actually, I think anyone blessed with the name Habakkuk deserves to scream, but the prophet squandered no time wailing about personal injustices,” (p. 75). In my Bible, Habakkuk’s sides of the dialogue with God are titled, “Habakkuk’s Complaint,” and “Habakkuk’s Second Complaint.” (I’m certain if my prayer life were to ever be manuscripted, it would read something similar to this.) This prophet of the Lord had the audacity to question God’s methods. He accused God of not listening to him. He didn’t understand what he perceived as God’s complacency toward evil and injustice. How could God allow such things? Given the circumstances, I have to side with Habakkuk on this one. By all human understanding, God’s ways just didn’t make sense. But God’s response puts me right back in my place. “I haven’t overlooked their evil. I will punish it,” He explained. “But my plans differ from yours because you can’t view the whole picture. I am the Lord, Habakkuk, and you aren’t,” (Couchman, p.75). This puts Habakkuk back in his place too, and instead of lodging a third complaint, he responds with a prayer of faith. (Crack open a Bible and read the short book of Habakkuk for the full story.) You can easily chalk this Bible passage up to a display of God’s sovereignty and faithfulness, but you can also let it encourage you to express yourself honestly before your Creator.

We can kick and scream and raise our fists all we want. We should; it may help us feel better, and it keeps us talking when we feel tempted to turn and stomp in the other direction. I’ve been where Habakkuk was, pleading, “How long, O Lord, must I call for help, but you do not listen?” (Habakkuk 1:2). But unlike Habakkuk, when God went quiet, I went quiet too. In fact, I went silent. I turned my back, crossed my arms, and began taking bold steps in the opposite direction. If God wasn’t going to explain Himself to me in a satisfactory way, I wasn’t going to waste my time with Him anymore. It was a very dangerous move and led my heart to dark spaces I never wish to revisit. It turns out I didn’t feel any more at peace in the dark. I realized I’d rather live with God’s answers than none at all. I started talking to Him again (not very nicely, but it was an honest start), and over time I unclenched my heart and allow Him to draw me near. He was so very patient with me. I’ve heard it said that if we aren’t feeling close to God, He is not the one who stopped talking. How very true. “Honest wrestling can transport us from unbelief to faith, from protectiveness to vulnerability, from resistance and rebellion to acceptance and surrender,” (Couchman p.77). Voicing our complaints to God frees us. How many times have we called up a friend (or our mom) and said, “Ugh, I just need to vent.” We need to get things off our chest, unload it, and afterward, we take that deep breath of relief. This release of tension helps us remove the blinders from our eyes and see things with a clearer perspective. We’re more open to hearing wisdom and correction after we’ve spewed words of honest, raw, emotion.

When we question God, we must also be prepared to accept His response, however unpleasant or confusing it may be. Trusting His sovereignty often feels impossible. If we’re struggling to see how God’s working all things together for good, maybe we can start by just admitting He’s working. Surrender begins with humility, after all; admitting we are but human and He is the Lord. We don’t need to know what He’s doing as much as we need to know that He is doing it. Even if we can’t see His plan, we can know that He has one. May that be enough for us. Habakkuk’s final response to God after a lively back and forth is this: “Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vines, though the olive crop fails and the fields produce no food, though there are no sheep in the pen and no cattle in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will be joyful in God my Savior. The Sovereign Lord is my strength,” (Habakkuk 3:17-19a). In other words, even though the situation looks bleak and I don’t see how any good can come from this, I will choose joy, and I will draw my strength from my Lord and King. Ultimately, Habakkuk’s honest struggle brought Him closer to God and enabled him to accept His sovereignty.

I love the book of Psalms because it is quite literally nothing but King David’s honest rantings to God. He expressed it all; the good, the bad, and the ugly. He brought everything to the mat and bared his soul before God. He held nothing back and he is remembered in history as a man after God’s own heart (1 Samuel 13:14), a father in the lineage of Jesus, and a great and noble king. “Trust in him at all times,” David pens. “Pour out your hearts to him, for God is our refuge,” (Psalm 62:8). Pour out your hearts. Let God hear it; every honest thought, every doubt, every range of emotion. He can take it. Do you think God was taken aback by anything Habakkuk had to say? Of course not. He created Habakkuk. (He also created Abraham, Sarah, Moses, Naomi, Jeremiah, Peter, Paul, and all the others who dared to voice their honest questions.) He gave them those emotions and the ability to express them. He knew Habakkuk intimately, just as He knows you and me. “The Creator may reply with straightforward and startling answers, but he patiently handles the questions, the anger, the narrow viewpoints of his children. He doesn’t punish us for outbursts. He remembers our origins in dust and acts accordingly. He’s expansive and merciful enough to handle our brays and foot-stomping,” (Couchman, p.76). How undeserving but blessed we are to serve a God who turns a listening ear to our very human hearts.