Dear God, Where The Bleep Are You?

They say that in order to clear away the darkness you have to bring it into light. Fair enough. Done. We’ve done it. Darkness acknowledged. #america2016

Now what?

Times like these make me question a lot of things. I start wondering about things like God.

I think, okay God, if you exist, why the heck do you allow hate? War? Famine? Racism, Sexism? Crazy right wing religious nuts? Why?

And because I consider myself a fairly open-minded person who likes Oprah and granolay things, I try to be patient. I wait. Arms folded, very frustrated, tapping my toes kind of waiting, but still waiting, still attempting to come to terms with things. And while I’m waiting I begin to think more. I stew. Really stew over the fact that it’s a frickin fair question. Because it is a fair question. Where the bleep is God?

So I sit and I wait and I wait and I wait and then I give up. Forget it, I think, I’m not getting an answer.

And so I continue being generally frustrated, thinking, thinking a lot, liking posts that validate my frustration. I’m a good person. I don’t choose fear. I think for myself. When I make selfish choices, it’s different.

It’s different, I tell myself, holding onto my money instead of donating it to causes I claim to support (they weren’t going to use the money properly anyway, I tell myself), it’s different I say when I’m mean to a friend or family member out of anger or frustration (they made me angry, they caused my frustration), it’s different I say when I judge and criticize someone for doing something I know damn well I do myself (because I didn’t mean it when I did it). It’s different. It’s different. It’s different. Okay fine. It’s not so different.

So then I change my question. Alright, fine, if God exists, why give us humans free will if we were just going to mess it up anyway? Bam! I think, gotcha God!

And then I get more frustrated and think about it some more. And some more. And some more. And then I realize I think a lot. I think a hell of a lot. I try to rationalize and interpret, analyze and ponder, and then I stew when I can’t answer my own question. I think and I think and I drive myself crazy with all of the thinking. And so I start to feel things.

I feel frustrated, I feel hurt, I feel upset, I feel unloved, I feel unheard, I feel used, I feel sad, I feel alone, I feel really alone.

And I keep feeling, and I keep feeling, and sometimes I cry and get angrier and then I get tired from all the thinking and feeling and I’m drained and numb.

And in that numbness I let the question sit there, if there is a God, why do bad things happen?  And in that moment between thinking and feeling, I feel dependency. I feel desperate dependency. I feel like I need something to believe in, something to trust. And then I feel vulnerable. I feel so, so frickin vulnerable, so powerless, so frustrated, so dependent, so peaceful, wait…no…peaceful…no, no, no, I think. I’m not feeling that!

So I try to take back control, try to manage my feeling, try to get a hold of my thoughts, try to avoid that desperate dependency. I can take care of myself. I want control! How are we going to manage this situation? What should I do next? What’s the best approach? Who do I need to call?

And so I ask God a lot of questions.

If you exist, why do bad things happen? Why do our choices always seem to steer us well for a while and then go completely wrong? Why does history repeat itself? Why so much hate, why so much frustration? Why did you give us the choice knowing things would turn out badly? And, more importantly, what the heck do you want me to do about it?

And then God finally answers.

Still not ready to release that control yet huh? It’s okay, I’ll wait.

A funny one, that God.


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