Sometimes the answer comes slowly

So, yea, still processing. Not so much as grieving, but processing.

The thought that tormented me was, how could I have been so wrong? Did I totally miss God on this one? For all appearance sake we did have the ingredients for a beautiful lasting love story, one that could have ended with growing old together.

I know nothing happens without His permission. He is always in control. But, still… why would He allow me to love someone who was just going to turn around and betray me and bring hurt to what God wanted to heal?

How could something so beautiful turn so ugly?

Why do I still miss him? I mean, who in their right mind would miss someone who seems to enjoy tormenting you?

Then I read this in Redeeming Love, by Francine Rivers. If you want the backdrop to this story, visit the post from yesterday titled Redeeming Love.

“Why this way?” he cried out in anguish. “Why did you tell me to love her if you were only going to take her away from me?”

He raged at God and grieved for his wife. He stopped reading his Bible. He stopped praying. He turned inside himself seeking answers. He found none. And he dreamed, dark, confusing dreams with forces that were closing in on him.

The still, quiet voice didn’t speak to him anymore, not for weeks and months. God was silent and hidden, his purpose a mystery. Life became such a barren waste land that Michael couldn’t bare it anymore, and he cried out.

“Why have you forsaken me?”

Beloved, I am always with you, even to the end of time.

Michael slowed his frenetic work and sought solace in God’s word. I don’t understand anything anymore, Lord. Losing her is like losing half of myself. She loved me, I know she did. Why did you drive her from me?

The answer came to him slowly, with the changing of the seasons.

You shall have no other gods before me.

That couldn’t be right.

Michael’s anger grew. “When have I worshipped anyone but you?” He raged again. “I’ve followed you my whole life, I’ve never put anyone before you.” Hands fisted, he wept. “I love her, but I never made her my god.”

In the calm that followed his angry torrent of words, Michael heard- and finally understood.

You became hers.

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