I'm going to go out on a limb here,

and speak a bold statement.

It's okay to be angry at God.

Ephesians 4:26 tells us not to sin in our anger,

which leads me to believe that,

anger in and of itself, is not wrong.

And if anger is not wrong,

why would it be wrong, to be angry at God?

King David was angry at God.

And so was Job.

I mean, chances are,

if you're human at all,

you've been angry at Him.

If you haven't yet been angry at God,

wait a while.

It will probably happen.

If, and when you do get angry at God,

I want you to know something.

It will be okay.

You won't push God away.

He won't walk away from you.

Chances are, He'll show up,

in the most unexpected way.

I say this,

because it happened to me.

I sat on my living room couch and screamed at God.

Screamed, I tell you.

A large part of me felt very much like I was breaking the rules,

(You know, the "Good Christian girls do not scream at the God of the Universe" rules.)

but, in those moments, I was beyond caring.

He had let me down.

In a big way, God had let me down,

and I was angry.

Earlier that week,

while getting dressed one morning,

I noticed that the drawer where I kept my personal undergarments seemed a little empty.

It struck me as odd, but in the moment, I didn't pay it much attention.

As the day progressed though, an unsettled feeling began to grow in my spirit.

Something wasn't quite right.

I went back to the drawer, and as I searched through it,

it dawned on me that, three of my most beautiful, and most expensive, "date bras" were missing.

A sick feeling began to grow in my stomach.

I searched all of my drawers, hoping that perhaps I had simply placed them in the wrong one.

In my heart though, I knew I hadn't.

With growing concern, I searched my closet.

I looked under my bed.

I scoured the laundry room.

In my growing panic, I even dug through our storage room.

I literally turned my house upside down looking for those bras.

But, they were gone.

Someone had taken them.

I questioned my daughter, thinking (hoping really,)

that perhaps she had taken them, wanting to try them on.

But, she hadn't.

My husband and I questioned our teenage boys

about the possibility of one of their friends having the opportunity to go upstairs to our bedroom.

They did not think they had.

We even asked our boys if perhaps either of them had taken them on a dare.

They were horrified at the thought.

Those were hard questions to ask our boys,

and we felt awful at even the hint of accusation they might feel.

But, we had to explore every possibility.

My husband and I raked our brains,

going over the people we had had in our home.

I simply could not believe that anyone we, or our kids, knew,

would, or could, do such a thing.

But the truth was,

someone had.

Someone,

someone I knew,

had gone into my bedroom,

rifled through my most intimate articles,

and stolen from me.

I felt completely violated.

And I wept because of it.

Three days later,

my husband and I had just gone to bed,

when we heard two very loud bangs against our living room window.

We immediately got up to investigate,

and discovered that someone had thrown eggs at our home.

It shocked me.

"Why?" I cried.

"Why would someone do this?"

Although it would definitely have been upsetting,

this normally, would not have been such a big deal to me.

I realized, even in the moment,

that it was more than likely kids, just being kids.

But, because I was already feeling so victimized,

this little incident felt very damaging to me.

My heart, that night, was very heavy.

The greatest assault though,

came two days later.

My son came home from school for lunch,

and I could see something was bothering him.

He was very upset, and while he tried to brush it off as nothing,

I probed him until he spilled his heart.

Someone had spray-painted vulgar words about him on the school building.

He wouldn't tell me what was said,

but, from his reactions, I knew it couldn't have been good.

I sat with him while he ate,

my heart aching,

and tried to comfort him as best I could.

After my son had gone back to the school,

I went over myself to see what had been written.

It had been covered with cardboard.

I pulled it off, and I was horrified at the words I read.

It was vulgar.

It was heartbreaking.

It was slander that I felt to my very core.

And I was angry.

I marched into the office and spoke with the principle.

She also, was angry.

And so very apologetic.

She assured me that they were in the works of having it removed.

It's just that, it had been spray-painted on brick,

and so it needed to be sand-blasted off.

It was taking a little time to make the arrangements.

There was nothing for me to do,

so, with a heavy heart,

I went home.

It was all, just too much.

The stolen bras....

The eggs thrown at my home....

But it was the vulgarity directed at my son, that was my undoing.

In my helplessness, I sat on my couch,

and in my anger, I screamed at God.

"How could You??

How could You let this happen!!??"

I raged at Him through tears.

Even though I knew He was not to blame,

and although I was ashamed of myself for the anger I directed at Him,

still, I raged on.

"God!" I screamed. My most intimate articles of clothing have been stolen!

Do you have any idea how violated I feel?!?!?!"

And in those heartbreaking, angry moments, I felt His presence draw near to me.

"Yes. I do."

He spoke to me.

Not audibly, but into my spirit.

"I do, Melinda. I hung naked, on a wooden cross, while my own clothing was bartered over."

My heart skipped.

I was floored.

I was literally floored, but I was not finished.

"But, God!"

I yelled, still so very angry.

"My house was egged! You can't know how much this hurts me!"

"I know it hurts, you." He said.

"But, I want you to know, this is not your permanent home."

He spoke those words, so very tenderly, into my heart.

I knew He was telling me, that my real home, is with Him.

I felt His presence,

like a strong arm around my shoulders.

My anger began to crumble,

but, still, I had one more issue.

"But, God!!!"I sobbed.

"My son! My son was slandered! You CANNOT know how this feels!!!!"

"Oh, honey." He replied.

"I do.

I do know how this feels.

My own Son hung on that wooden cross,

broken and bleeding for you,

and I heard every slanderous, vulgar word they hurled at Him.

I know that hurt you feel."

I was broken and completely undone.

Where seconds before, my heart was completely filled with rage,

all I felt now, was loved.

The God of the Universe,

bore my anger.

As I screamed at Him,

He drew near to me,

and identified with me.

My anger did not push God away.

Here's what I want you to understand, though.

In my anger,

even though it was directed at Him,

I did not turn away from Him.

I instead, turned to Him.

My heart, filled to the brim,

with anger and with sorrow,

was not filled with hatred,

nor was it filled with bitterness.

I was broken.

I longed for His comfort.

I needed His peace.

And even though I was angry,

I still sought answers from Him.

And He showed up.

Instead of disciplining me.....

instead of ridiculing me for my grievances,

so very weak they were, compared to His,

the God of the Universe, identified with me.

He was not put off by my anger.

How could He be?

His love for me, is all consuming.

As is His great love for you.

My friend.

We live in a fallen, broken world.

Bad things happen to good people.

We will be treated unfairly.

We may be ridiculed,

slandered,

stolen from,

and vandalized.

There are times in our lives when we will be filled with brokenness and anger.

When this happens,

and, it will happen,

don't turn away from Him.

Turn to Him.

He is so in love with you.

He longs to comfort you.

Pour your heart out to him.

Tell Him everything you feel.

Voice your pain and your anger,

in a pure and faultless way.

He already knows it anyway.

And please trust me......

He can take it.

Please note, this experience was a few years in the past.

My son has recovered from the slander.

We live in a new home, now.

I never did discover who took my undergarments.

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