I WAS MAD AT GOD. My daughter was sick and getting progressively worse; we were headed to the hospital and I couldn’t afford another emergency bill. And He wasn’t doing a darn thing about it.
Earlier in the week my High School Senior had complained about some pain. I asked her to tell me that if it got any worse we would go to the doctor. It was Homecoming Week and with all the activities, the Community Pep Rally, the Senior Skit, the Parent’s Skit, the special dress-up days, the friends and all the hullabaloo, not to mention the Big Game on Friday, she neglected to tell me that her condition wasn’t getting any better…until Sunday, right after church. Laurel weakly whispered that she was in great pain.
I looked on the computer for an Urgent Care. All closed. Even Web MD couldn’t help.
Then I got mad at her, sensitive dad that I am. She could’ve told me on any other day of the week that she wasn’t improving. After all, doesn’t the Bible say that for six days you shall get sicketh, but on the Lord’s Day you shall not because it’s too expensivith? No, it doesn’t.
That’s why I got mad at the Almighty, too—and for good reason. Continue Reading