Okay, I hate to begin a post showing a beautiful picture of crosses at sunrise with a discussion about roadkill, but that’s how it’s going to be. So stick with me here. Many of us have tender hearts. Not, perhaps, as tender as God’s, but occasionally we grieve at the suffering of another, be it human or animal. I can get depressed driving along the road and seeing an animal of any kind lying at the side of the blacktop. I’ve teared up at the sight of a dog or cat, possum or even, on vulnerable days, a skunk. I mean, after all, they can’t help what God made them, can they? I have to admit I once cried when I spotted something dark and mangled at the side of the road ahead of me and tears burned my eyes–don’t worry, I can cry and drive at the same time. It turned out to be a lost retread tire. Not my finest moment of grieving, and I was glad no one was with me in the car at the time, but since I’ve already spilled it to you, that doesn’t matter now, does it?
So it’s established I hate roadkill. I hate suffering of any kind. I tend to place myself in the position of the sufferer, and literally ache for them. I remember reading through the Old Testament once–can’t even remember which section I was in–but once again the Israelites had turned against God. Rejected Him. I burst into tears for Him. He had chosen these special people to love and gift, and they turned on Him. Kind of like I do when He’s doing something special in my life that doesn’t feel special. In fact, it feels kind of like pain, and loss, and possibly like being run over by a semi. I turn on Him. I rage at Him. I can’t understand why He would allow such pain if He loved me, and it doesn’t matter if He’s proven Himself to me time and again, I don’t care, because I’m in such pain I don’t have the strength to recall any other time. Yes, I learned faith the last time something like this happened, but that was then, and this feels different. It’s almost as if He hates me this time, and I just feel…you know…hated by God.
Then something happens. A prayer someone else is praying for me gets answered. Or I receive an email from a stranger who tells me God impressed upon her heart to email me and let me know there are good things ahead and He loves me. I’m halfway through realizing this is just one more of those special learning experiences when I think about how much I’ve dishonored God in my life. I’ve grieved Him. And then I cry with Him. When will I ever learn? How disappointed in me He must be, but instead of showing me that side of His heart, He shows me joy, and hope, and His own brand of love. Me, I’m still stuck back there grieving about what I’ve done to Him. My best friend. The Love of my life. My maker. I cry for Him.
Have you ever cried for God? Can you remember a time when you grieved because you know that you, or someone else–possibly the whole world–has caused Him grief? Please tell me I’m not the only one who does this.
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