Beth was young, only 28. She was graduated from college with honors. She taught two years in a Christian school, had two small daughters, a husband-and cancer. Her doctor described it as terminal.
She became more and more disheartened. Behind polite smiles were guilt, resentment, fear, and brooding apathy. When asked one day by an elder, "Are you ever angry with God?", she replied with a small smile, "No, I may not be angry with God, my Heavenly Father. He knows best!"
It sounded pious. The words appeared theologically sound. The elder felt good, and he was able to report glowingly about her submission, trust, and surrender.
But Beth's words were not honest. They did not come from her deep-down self. She played a successful role as a good church member, but she continued to be an unhappy, angry, resentful, guilt-laden daughter of God.
The Father who counts the hairs of our heads and the malignant cells in our bodies wants to hear how his child really feels. In fact, he doesn't mind when his ...1