I am Worthy

Anger:  n. a strong feeling of displeasure and belligerence aroused by a wrong.
Value:  n., the regard that something is held to deserve; the importance, worth, or usefulness of something.

I have a history of making people angry.  I'm a very stubborn, quick witted woman who has an answer for everything.  If I'm keeping quiet, it's likely I am disagreeing with you silently and in that moment have the maturity to hold my tongue.  (Notice I said "in that moment")  I will hold onto the idea that I am right and you are wrong until I am humiliated into agreeing otherwise.  It's a super fun way to live.  Insert Firm Eye Roll.

Men typically have an easier time being angry because it is less invasive and much less vulnerable.  And their M.O. is to always be in charge of their emotions.  Anger is socially acceptable for men, however, so that one is a bit less stringently monitored.  But the words that are inside their angry, red faces are, "You have wronged me.  I'm worth more.  How dare you."

This idea that we are deserving of kindness and respect from others is a conundrum.  We aren't quick to give kindness and respect to others, but we expect to be the recipient of it.  If we are angering other people, we feel some satisfaction that we matter enough to invoke emotions in another person.  If they are angering us, we feel exposed and weak.

We are comically complex beings.

If I was indeed angry with God, then it is fair to surmise that I, in fact, was hurt by Him....the anger was just an easier manifestation of my emotions.  It fueled the fire that kept me and my boys alive.  I needed it so I didn't fall apart.

But being angry was me essentially saying that I deserved more.  In my state of feeling worthless, I was able to make this leap enough to know...or believe, rather... that I was being wronged.   How dare He allow me to fall in love with two men that weren't right for me.  How dare He allow me to look away while my baby drowned.  How dare He allow me to almost lose my business.  How. Dare. He.

If He loved me, He wouldn't have allowed these dreadful things to happen to me.

Thus, He must not love me.

Under the anger resided a rapidly flowing river of pain that was wide as the universe.

Living a life that is bankrupt of the love of God was terrifying.  I was in a dark place without light.  I made choices that were self-destructive and at times dangerous.  I was living the way someone lives when they don't value their own life.  I stayed alive only for the sake of my boys.  For two years I allowed darkness to rule my life.  For two years I hung on by a thread just so my boys wouldn't lose their mother.

Love causes you to live a life of purpose and fullness.  Living without it...quite the opposite.

So beneath all my anger was the firm, immoveable belief that I was unloveable.  That I was, at my very core, without value.  

My boys and I went to see "A Wrinkle in Time" for Mother's Day.  In the movie, the main character Meg was given the gift of her faults.  Her bewildered response when she received this gift was, "You do know these are the bad things about me, right???"   Mrs. Whatsit, the giver of the gift, replied, "But is it?"

God says in His word that He knit me together in my Mother's womb.  The science and creativity that went into that one moment...I would be daft to not acknowledge that I was created in a specific way for a specific purpose.

Mrs. Which: [ to Meg] Do you realize how many events, choices, that had to occur since the birth of the universe leading up to the making of you?  Just exactly the way you are.

Anger may have been a great tool for me to feel less lost for those years.  But at the core of my anger was the hopeless, desperate feeling that I was unloved by my Creator.  Yes, atrocious things happened to me because there is incredible, overwhelming evil in the world and I am in desperate need of a Savior.  But my anger with God was nonsense because I belong to the God of the universe who took one look at me and said, "It is good."