Anger

I really don't like what anger does to me. It eats me up inside. I've been sick for 2 weeks and I can't sleep. Now I know why.

I haven't been praying. I realized today that I haven't prayed since...

He doesn't know it, but this is thanks to the high school pastor at my church. He began a series on prayer a couple of weeks ago. Oh, I forgot to tell you why I'm in high school-I volunteer in the high school ministry. Anyway, we were in a staff meeting and he said something about having a prayer life and the first thought in my head was: "I don't want to pray, I'm too angry at God right now." This thought practically shocked me! I was appalled with myself! Angry at God?

I've had enough turmoil and hard times in my life that I've learned to give my pain to God. To pray and seek His peace and let Him carry my burdens. There have been times I have spent hours-mostly sleepless nights-in fervent prayer. But the burdens this time around, in this season for my family, it's getting a little overwhelming. I think it's been since right after Christmas that I've been so angry that I just have not been able to talk to God.

Praying. I love to pray. I just talk to God. Just chat. And I've yelled at God before. I've pleaded and cried. I've rejoiced and praised Him. You've heard that term "pray without ceasing"? (1 Thessalonians 5:17) I take that literally. Praying when I'm driving, cooking, reading, walking, trying to sleep. Praying gives me strength. I love to pray.

The wonderful thing: God knows I'm angry and He understands and still loves me.

There's this scene in a show I have on DVD where a father is confronting a young man who wishes to marry his daughter. The father, in his wisdom, knows that his daughter cannot marry the young man. As much as the young man loves the girl, he finally acknowledges his restlessness and will feel tied down if he marries her, just as the girl walks up to see the conversation going on. She is devastated, hurt, and angry. The young man leaves town and the father goes to comfort his daughter. The girl yells at her father, pounds her fists on his chest and sobs ferociously as he envelopes her into his arms. She, exhausted, allows her father to comfort her for as long as she needs. It's a good show.

God wants that from me. He wants that from all of us. He wants to be the Father, because He knows how devastating life can be. He sees what we're going through and feels our pain, just like a father feels the pain of his beloved child. He wants me to pound my fists on His chest as He envelopes us (me) in His arms and comforts us for as long as we need. Because without that comfort, without those prayers, the anger would not subside and I could not study, cook, teach, lead, read, live, comfort, decide, sleep or be well.

Oh how good it feels to pray to my Heavenly Father.