The Wilderness

Conversation with God

             There I was, lying awake in the dead of night.  It was so quiet that the only sounds I heard were the constant gurgling from the running toilet followed by the rhythmic drip of the water from the faucet diving down into the porcelain fixture.  Everything around me was peaceful and for some reason my soul was heavy.  I lay on my back in discomfort from this "thing" pressing on my spine.  A tear slid down the side of my face onto the pillow, but left no track because it instantly evaporated due to the angry heat of my face; brutally, bitterly angry.  There was a lump of animosity the size of a hard boiled egg lodged in my throat, ready to be spewed out of my mouth like ammunition. 

            In the midst of my rage, my heart slowed to a relaxed beat, my breaths became deeper and longer, and my pupils began to dilate as my eyelids closed and opened slower and slower.  There He was suddenly, in the midst.  “What’s wrong my child?”  He questioned, like a concerned father.  What should I say?  Should I say what was on my mind?  Not that it mattered, He knew my every thought.  That was the problem.  I dared not even think what was in the undercurrent of my spirit, the emotions that daily drove my unconscious and sometimes conscious behavior.  So many things left unsaid in our pseudo- relationship.  Now was my opportunity, but I did not have the courage, so I rolled onto my belly, face down in my pillow.  But I could hear Him in my ear.  “My child, what is wrong?”  Like an angry volcano, my belly rumbled and my voice erupted, “I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU!!!”  I shouted like an agitated child. There, it was out and I couldn’t believe it.  “I would rather die and go to hell than spend eternity with you.  So what, you gave me life, you could have kept this raggedy life!  If you knew that life would be this way than why did you bring me here?”  There it was.  Seventeen years of emotion that had been repressed, out like the soda from a shaken pop bottle and it felt good.  I was free to live my anti- God life without anyone to answer to. 

            Just as I was ready to surrender my self to a life of sin and open my eyes in eternal darkness, He said, “Now that you have told me how you really feel, we can move on.” 

“What, didn’t you hear what I said?”  He looked at me with a smile in His eye.  “Many are called but few are chosen”, and just like that He was gone.  Still, I lay there.  What did He mean, move on?  I didn't want to move on.  What was I supposed to do?  Trust that He would help me, when He didn't even answer my prayers.  I don't think so!  After all it was His fault that I was here, pregnant with the seed from a one night stand, broken relationship after broken relationship.  If He would have just heard me when I prayed and done something, then I wouldn’t be here.  Angry, torn, hurt, broken, battered all because the one man in my life that is supposed to nurture me and raise me didn't have the time to answer my significant prayer.