9:02am Sunday 16th March 2014
IT was February 1984, I was nineteen, my Dad aged forty five had suffered a sudden death.
My Mum, my younger sister and brother and myself were left completely devastated.
I went to bed that first night wanting the world to end but it didn’t and we had to face life without our wonderful dad.
Fortunately I had attended Sunday School as a youngster so I knew about God.
This was now very helpful because I knew who to blame for our massive loss.
I began my vendetta against God, denouncing and cursing Him with all the energy I could muster.
I displayed my hatred of God with a passion.
This continued for some time.
To cut a long story short, I got worn out long before God got offended.
I had become anxious, depressed, sick and thoroughly messed up.
I had a little Gideon bible (which had survived remarkably well having been flung at walls) and started to read it.
I read of a Father who sent His Son to earth to fix a serious problem.
Such was the stature of the Son that He deserved to live as a prince but His Father placed Him in the midst of an ordinary working class family.
The Son seemed to display greater love, compassion and wisdom than anyone I’d heard of.
He shunned the establishment and broke the rules to help the poor and needy.
In short He upset so many influential people that they conspired together and arranged to have Him killed.
As I continued to read I discovered that the brutal death of the Son (accompanied by a resurrection) had remarkably changed things and delivered hope to a broken world.
It seemed that the God I had been angry with knew what tragedy and loss felt like.
I gave up my vendetta and became a follower of His Son Jesus.
I’d learnt that it was okay to be angry at God.
So rage at Him if you need to, but be ready to listen when He speaks.
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