Have you had one of those times when you try to let God know you’re not happy with Him. You’re not happy with having to wait on Him, and for Him. And you’re certainly not happy with most of His decisions concerning you.
It’s like you should just get God to sit across the table from you, and listen to you talk. Though you wouldn’t be doing a lot of talking as you would do a lot of yelling, screaming and throwing your hands about the place.
Stay, by Rihanna
He wouldn’t be on the intimidating throne or with the heavenly hosts around him, playing the harp and chanting praises, if that’s what happens. But now, He’d just play the role of the earth-dad we’re aware of and accustomed to.
The one we’d run to and complain to about how the other kids have bicycles but we don’t. And then he’d tell us, perhaps lie to us (uncomfortably, quite embarrassed), how he’s been waiting and saving to get us a car instead and so we’d have to wait also.
Then he’d take us outdoors and get us some ice-cream and pie and toys. Which would make us happy. And for a moment we’d forget we wanted something other than ice cream and pie and toys.
Some other times if he sees we persistently worry and act sad about what we asked for but couldn’t get, he’d be moved with compassion enough to compromise and get for us maybe a scooter. That’s if he doesn’t just buy the bicycle anyway.
And we have a Heavenly-dad that we expect should do much more as He has greater unwavering love and inexplicable powers. Powers we think are at our bidding. The goodies agape love should fetch.
My Tears Dry on Their Own, by Amy Winehouse
But it doesn’t feel as though the love is as strong as it appears on paper (read as Bible). Whether He does anything when we run to Him in tears, and grovel on our knees in prayer, or not. Whereas earth-dad having only a miniscule power does try.
You feel, when you cry out to God, so many things don’t make right; because your tears roll down your cheeks and unlike your earth dad, He doesn’t wipe it away, it dries on its own. Empathy seems to elude Him. Or does it?
Maybe what is needed isn’t for God to sit across the table from you. In hindsight, the connection would seem pretty bad and responses would be stretched and distant. It isn’t supposed to be a formal meeting.
He really should just stay beside you. Like shoulder to shoulder. And just listen to you talk. Then hopefully provide the answers to the troubling questions you would ask. Those questions that cause your faith to waiver and your heart to wring in pains.
You’d want to put the side of your head on his shoulders. And you’d request of him to answer sincerely. Which he’d do anyway. But you have to just say it so He knows you’re mean about wanting a definite answer. And not a parable like He’d most likely have given at the first instant.
You’d ask Him if He wants to be a friend or a dad, because they play different roles and you’d want to know what role He was comfortable with. You don’t want him being indirect and kidding like your earth-dad who would have answered as ‘friendly dad’. But you’d want a frank, uncoded, unparabled response.
Why would you want a friend or a dad?
A loving dad would wish to solve all your problems, whether or not he can; perhaps. And there wouldn’t be a limit to the situations he can be present at. Well, maybe so would your friends.
Friends cause fun or disaster ripples with their disappointments or encouragements, disengagements or on-games, giving you something to grow and learn from, or stories to share.
Is there a mix up? Is a dad a friend?
What’s common again for both is the love, hope and trust residing in the relationship which would make each role significant in your life.
So you’d like to know this time, with God sitting beside you, what role He’s playing and would continue to play. Or if He’d want to change roles. Just so you know the hurt each tear you shed is directed towards. A friend or a dad.
Or if He can definitely be both.