Thankfully a pop sensation of my high school days gave me words to express my anger. "God - quit playing games with my heart" (Oh Backstreet Boys, I always knew you loved me).
So I told God that. And He didn't get mad at me and lightening didn't strike. And He didn't use mind-controlling super powers like Jasper (ooh, Twilight) to calm me down either. Instead, He asked me to keep talking to Him. And you know what? I did. Because in that moment -- when a wound that is just starting to heal got ripped open by the only Surgeon who has the power to heal -- I knew God was real. I knew without question that it was God who was wounding me.
We convince ourselves that God doesn't hurt us. And when we do get hurt -- and it's not by our own sin -- we wonder what happened to the good God? What happened to our dearest friend, our healer, our savior?
The answer? He's still there. He's a surgeon. He's cutting deep -- but you can trust Him because He's not reckless. Every pain, every disappointment, every hurt has purpose. And that purpose is far bigger than playing games with your heart. He's making you -- and me -- more like Christ. We're losing us and gaining Him. That's a good thing.
So if you're like me and feeling a little broken, a little shattered--take heart. The LORD is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit. (Psalm 34:18)