She still got angry at God at times,
Her words
confirmed what I’ve always thought of her…
Hypocrite.
The evidence was the
Dreadlocks and nose piercing,
The ungodly baggy jeans she flapped to youth meetings in.
I didn’t judge her that much,
Just doubts.
Until she did admit to the fickleness of her faith.
I knew then I had to find someone else to be the mentor to whom
I would show off how much I loved God.
A year later when I called her at 1 in the morning after a short victory against suicidal thoughts,
She prayed, a prayer that sounded like a lullaby.
The only thing that responded with sleep was my own hypocrisy.
The next day, I called her again in tears
‘He feels like an absent father that occasionally writes to tell you He doesn’t like how you’re carving out your life.
I scream back
To tell Him it’s because He has taken away from me every tool with which I used to shape my life.
My job, my health, my family.
Everytime the wind mocks me,
Takes the words, tosses them there and then blows them right in my face, into my empty mouth.
Then echoes that linger as a cruel laughter
I am merely wasting my voice.
He doesn’t listen.
He has stopped coming to our dates.
I don’t feel Him nodding and yessing to my heart’s desires.
I have an ocean of the tears He hasn’t bothered to collect.
I carry the ocean in my eyes,
Waiting for him to cut it into half and make way for my escape from the dryness of my heart.
I believe the wait has clipped off my wings.
I want to sit down with Him,
Ask how it is that,
You start to learn being angry at someone only to realize it seems they have hated you before you mastered the courage to question them.
Why He keeps denying me happiness.
I want to sit and listen to Him explaining why there isn’t a Hebrew phrase for God the taker.
So that after defending Himself I can dismissively chuckle and say
That’s all You have done. Taken.
Because for someone who could give me all I want at the snap of a finger,
He sure is stingy.
As if His shadow had a ‘one user per year’ instruction.
How about He just leaves me alone,
I forget Him , He does the same
I heard mutual breakups were the future.
Even though He already is absent, I feel the presence of his power over me.
Does He know I would prefer death
If He can’t be bothered with me.
This Father
He consumes me
I can’t deny His reign
This King…’
Her breathing remains soft,
‘He is God, he can handle your anger.
He is as true as He claims to be,
He can stand the test of your questions.
Just remember your feelings are not always true.
Your mind was never meant to understand it’s Creator.
Trust Him
That’s all.’
By Vimbai Lole
Vimbai Lole is a young lady who has given up trying to understand God, given up trying to starve herself in the name of dieting, given up trying to change the world, given up trying to be an all rounder artist and given up trying to be awesome and cool. Instead, she is learning to love God with an uncompromising passion, to be healthy, to love people and to be happy .She has resolved to appreciating the art in others and hopes to live happily ever after.
