Anger, healing, and my God...

I’m angry.

Angry at God.

There.
I said it.

And it looks just as bad as I thought it would.

As I went through that awful experience… as he was hurting me, as I was trapped and helpless, with no voice and nowhere to go… in my head, I was screaming, over and over, “God help me!!!” And He didn’t. Here He is, fully aware of every situation. Fully able to act in everything. Yet, He chose not to act. He chose to let me go through that.

I know that there probably is a reason. I know that He will end up using this for good somehow. I know that He will heal me. I know that I may never know why I had to endure that. I know that I had free will walking into that situation. I know that guy had free will too, and I was affected by that.

But God could have stopped it. He didn’t.

Tricia said that though God didn’t answer my desperate plea that night, He is answering it now. It wasn’t in my timing, but His. He is helping me now. He was with me then, whether I knew it or not, and He is helping me now, whether I feel it or not.

I have to believe that.

Or I am going to go crazy. I am going to drive myself crazy with trying to deal with feelings that aren’t lining up with the truth. I have to start believing the truth.

…or I will start living a lie…
…that my God isn’t big enough…

If I just give those words lip service; if I don’t believe that He was there, saw it all, saw the wounds it was making, caused me to forget it till I could deal with it, and is walking me through it now; I start putting God into a box of someone who is uncaring, willing to act at random, and unpredictable in his showing love for me vs. wrath towards me. I make Him into a god who is not the all powerful, loving, faithful God that I know He is.

I have to believe that He was there. I have to believe, though no one else heard a sound…

*My God heard the screaming in my head.
*My God wept with me as I tried to hide the hurt, and terror as I later lay on the bed.
*My God saw me go into the bathroom and try to clean myself up and pull myself back together… unable to look in the mirror.
*My God held me the next few days as I ached from the violence of it all, and woke up shaking, sick from nightmares.
*My God stayed by me as, with His help, I carefully constructed a thick-walled room to completely block myself from remembering that rape.
*My God was with me 2 1/2 years ago while a friend prayed with me on the phone, and I felt His Presence with me, telling me that He accepted me… accepted me because I am beautiful and precious to Him, that He loves me and I am His.
*My God was with me 2 days later as I remembered this rape for the first time in ten years.
*My God has been with me as I have started to walk through processing this, and getting the pain and poison out of the wound.

He is opening the deep wound, cutting away the dead, scarred tissue. He is cleaning it out, and dressing it and wrapping it with a bandage. And at each appointment in His office, He is opening up the bandage again, cleaning it out some more, taking out more of the infection, re-dressing it, and re-bandaging it.

It hurts each time He exposes it to the air. It smells of rottenness and poison.

And the pain…
oh the pain is beyond describing…
only groans, too deep for words to express, can even begin to tell of the pain inside…
pain that is starting to come out with gut wrenching moans and cries…
pain that I am finally allowing myself to mourn, to grieve, to sob over.

My God, my Healer, brings me back time and again to His office. He uses my counselor, Tricia, in that office. She becomes my God’s gentle hands, touching, guiding and moving me to a place where I am able to deal with the pain. She becomes my God’s quiet voice, talking me through everything He is doing. Through her, He opens up that wound as much as I can bear for that visit to His office.

*He gives Tricia the wisdom, insight, and discernment she needs to be His hands and voice to me.
*He gives me the strength, courage, and desire to sit and cooperate in His cleansing and healing.

I leave that office exhausted. I leave it many times shaking with nearly overwhelming pain and a sick feeling in my stomach. But I leave it with a strong hug and encouragement from my counselor. I leave Tricia behind as I walk out of the office, but I never leave my Great Physician behind. I know that my God is walking out of there with me, getting me home safely, caring for me as I try to carry on with my normal, everyday living.

I still don’t know the reason I have had to go through this. To be honest, the answers that He will use this to help someone else, or strengthen me, or that He will work all this for the good, really don’t satisfy right now. Even if they are true.

To say that this experience, even the process of healing, has formed me into who I am today, that I can accept… but much more than that right now, I don’t know.

I am still in process.

I am still in the midst of grieving what was done to me. I am still mourning the bad choices I made. I am still in the process of forgiving him… of forgiving myself… of accepting the grace and forgiveness that God is extending to me.

I am still angry with God. I found myself at our family group today. I shared a bit of what I have shared here, about being angry with God. I shared a bit of the experience I went through. I also shared that I was finding it very hard to admit that I am angry at God for allowing this… because I can’t be mad at God… but I am.

As we entered into a time of prayer, almost as soon as we quieted ourselves, I felt myself turning to God and nearly yelling at Him, “I am so angry at You. It hurt so much! I am furious You let this happen!” And then I collapsed sobbing into His arms.

The image, and the nearly physical feeling I had, was of seeing a parent holding their child, loving on them, while the child is so angry that she is beating against her parent’s chest with her little fists… unable to hurt her parent, unable to get out of that loving embrace… and finally the child stops resisting the hug, and falls to sobbing in the safety of her parent’s love.

I am that child I saw as we prayed.
I am still angry.
I am still crying.
I am still confused.
I am still hurt.
But:
I am still healing.
And:
I am still in His arms.