I’ll just come right out and say that Meg is one of my favorite bloggers. Everything she writes makes me nod my head and say, “Yes. That!” Chances are, if you’ve ever emailed me for blog recs, you’ve been shuffled over to Held By His Pierced Hands. Lucky for you and me, Meg is here today with an awesome guest post. And if I play my cards right, she will be visiting me and the fam come July! Only time will tell…
Last month, I celebrated my Sweet Sixteen as a Christian. (Okay, I just right now realized that sixteen years makes it my Sweet Sixteen but I definitely should have asked Jesus for a car or something.) I’m so glad that time in Christ works differently, though–it’s a really good thing that I’m not an adolescent in my faith. I was a terrible teenager. Seriously, I apologize to everybody who knew me when I was sixteen. I was dramatic and intense and once cried for an entire morning because my mom and sister didn’t wake me up to go to IKEA with them. Which would be less ridiculous except that they had woken me up to go with them and I had yelled at them to leave me alone and then gone back to sleep for two hours. Dramatic and intense.
I’m not sure that the way I treat God is too much better, though. See, I’m rather a toddler when it comes to my dealings with the Lord. This conversation about my 3-year-old nephew reminded me a lot of my prayer life:
Those of you who have little ones know just how this tantrum goes. Your child wants something. You offer him something different—maybe even something better. He freaks the heck out.
When our children do it, we get so frustrated that they can’t see that what we have is better. We get so annoyed that they won’t just trust us to give them what’s best for them.
And then we turn around and do the exact same thing to God. We demand a fruit snack when he’s offering us fudge. We don’t listen when he tries to tell us that he knows what we really want, that he loves us and wants us to be happy. We just pout—or pitch a fit—because we’re not getting our way.
If you’ve been walking with Christ for any length of time, you’ve probably got a whole list of instances where God’s plan was so much better than what you’d picked out for yourself. Hindsight being 20-20, you can see just what he was doing and you can praise him for his sovereignty and his wisdom and his patience with you while you were sitting crying on your soccer ball.
And then you don’t get the job or your little girl’s test results come back positive or your mother-in-law moves in or the light turns red or they’re out of your favorite kind of ice cream or whatever and it’s back to “Why me? What did I do to deserve this?”
Maybe you’re not like me. Maybe you trust God completely. Maybe you see his hand in every circumstance in your life and treat every trial as a blessing. But if you’re sometimes a brat like I am, consider this:
“Can a mother forget her infant, be without tenderness for the child of her womb? Even should she forget, I will never forget you. See, upon the palms of my hands I have written your name.” (Is 49:15-16)
We worship a God who is desperate for us, who was willing to go to hell and back—literally to hell and back—for our sake and who lives eternally scarred out of love for us. “He who did not spare his own son but handed him over for us all, how will he not also give us everything else along with him?” (Rom 8:32) This God, my friends, will stop at nothing for you. And he’s so powerful, so brilliant, that even the bad will work for your good.
So the next time you’re tempted to fling yourself on the ground and kick (literally or figuratively) because you have to get all new tires and wheels and who the heck bends a rim driving on city streets??—ahem. The next time you’re tempted to despair or to doubt or just to groan and roll your eyes at God’s will in your life, remember this: as much as you love your little boy (or niece or neighbor or whoever), your love is nothing to God’s love. And if you ask for a fish and he hands you a scorpion, you’d better believe that what you really needed was a scorpion all along. So get off your soccer ball and have a dance party—and know that even if you’re still sitting there sulking, the Lord loves your little tear-stained face. And he’s not going to stop giving you what you need and ignoring what you want. Becoming a big grown-up Christian is a matter of rejoicing in the fact that he twists up your plans, shatters your dreams, and leaves you sitting in the midst of your broken life happier and holier than you could ever have imagined.
Happy Sweet Sixteen to me. Here’s to a future with less of my will, more of His, and no tantrums, sulking, or sighs in response.
Meg Hunter-Kilmer is a Catholic, madly in love with the Lord, His Word, His Bride the Church, and especially His Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity in the Eucharist. She’s committed to the Church not because she was raised this way but because the Lord has drawn her heart and convicted her reason. After 2 degrees in theology and 5 years in the classroom, Meg quit her 9-5 to live out of her car and travel the country speaking to youth and adults, giving retreats, blogging, and trying to rock the world for Jesus. She’s discerning a vocation to consecrated virginity, responding to the Lord’s call to put out into the deep and be His. Meg loves college football, gnocchi, freeze dance parties, and books about princesses.