Ticked Off
"It has been a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. My mom says some days are like that."
That quote from Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day pretty much sums up the last 3 days of my life.
It culminated last night when I took a mid-term in my class -- a test for which I had very little time to study, and even less comprehension of the subject matter. (Does any sane person really care about Economics?) I know it will be the worst grade I’ve ever received on a test in my collegiate career, which now spans 28 years. It’s possible it will be the worst grade I’ve ever received on a test (I got a 67 once in biology in high school -- the only test I ever flunked, and it still makes me angry).
I was the first one finished with the test, because it doesn’t take long to write, “I have absolutely no idea” 25 times. Since I had nearly one hour until class resumed after the test, my wounded pride and I came back to my office. I was white-hot with personal loathing at my own stupidity. I was discouraged, exhausted, and pouty.
In times like those, I’ve found that it’s wise to turn to the Psalms. I came back to the office and listened to a recording of the first 15 psalms, and as I did so my addled brain began to function again.
However, it wasn’t a restorative function. It was a reflective function.
I began asking myself why I was listening to these psalms. I realized that I was listening to them because I wanted God to make me feel better about the test. I wanted God to reassure me that the test wasn’t that important; that I have a great wife, great kids, a great church, a good job, and reasonable health. I wanted to stop feeling like a failure. I wanted to plug in to the Bible so it could be my vending machine of emotional healing.
Those thoughts took me back to an interview I had read earlier in the day. Michael Card, in an interview with Christianity Today, was talking about being wounded and the role of lamenting in the life of the Christian. There was a story about a paralyzed man who cried out to God, “You don’t have to heal me, just don’t leave me.”
I realized I was using God for his provision (“make me feel better”) rather than for his presence (“Let me know you’re there while I’m suffering”). While I’m sure God delights in making provision for his people, just as I do for my kids, what I think he wants more is our presence.
Nothing makes me feel as good as when my daughter walks up to me and cuddles up under my arm. She doesn’t want anything from me, other than to be with me. On her last day of elementary school, she was upset about leaving elementary school. She came running to me, and I held her and let her cry it out. Eventually I did what I could to make her feel better (the restorative power of a trip for ice cream), but first I just gave her my presence.
So, last night I spent time lamenting. I told God how ticked off I was. I grumbled out loud about Economics and studying and how much harder it is for me to learn and retain things than it used to be. I called myself stupid. I called my professor stupid. I stayed angry instead of pretending it was “all good” (there is no way to express how much I despise that phrase).
Rather than shaking my fist at God and ordering him to make me feel better, I invited him into my “suffering” and told Him all about it.
It was a different experience, and I wanted to write about it.
posted by Matt @ 11:20 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home