Lashing Out at God

Over the weekend my son was invited to a friend’s for the afternoon. He asked to be picked up at 6:45 after eating dinner with his friend. At 6:40, just as I was stepping into the car to go get him, he called and asked if he could stay longer. He explained that they had just finishing building a fort and they hadn’t had a chance to enjoy using it yet. He added that he had no homework. OK. Reasonable request. I asked how much longer he wanted to stay and he said, “Pick me up at 7:15.” That was fine with me. I want my son to have fun with friends, build forts and get to enjoy them.

Unfortunately, when I picked Connor up at 7:15, he was furious that his visit was over. And when I say furious, I don’t mean disappointed or sad. I mean furious. He jumped in the car, slamming the door, almost breaking a toy he had with him. He neither said goodbye to his friend nor hello to me. When I asked him what his problem was, he said, “You made me leave too early.”

Now I hadn’t made him do anything. In fact, he himself had chosen the pick-up time. But in his desire to vent his anger on someone he didn’t seem to remember that fact or to realize how absurd his statement was. Naturally I said, “If you wanted to stay longer, why didn’t you just call me and ask?” He replied, “Because I thought you would yell at me.” Now, this was even more absurd since I had, just half an hour before, very willingly allowed him to stay longer and even asked him to name the time he wanted to be picked up. And, to the best of my knowledge, neither my husband nor I have ever yelled at our kids for wanting to stay at a friend’s house longer than originally planned (although occasionally we say “no” to our daughter who likes to begin the weekend with a Friday evening sleepover and continue non-stop socializing until nightfall on Sunday).

The truth is, my son didn’t like the fact that playtime was over and he took that anger out on me, the benefactor who had allowed him to have a play time in the first place and who had willingly extended it for no reason other than to give him pleasure. He chose to lash out at me rather than to call me and see whether it would fit in with my plans to allow him to stay longer.

I wonder how often I do the same thing with God. How often do I get frustrated with how things are turning out in my life and blame Him rather than recognize that my disappointment is a result of my own choices? How often do I miss out on something better because I failed to ask Him to intervene? And how often is my failure to ask actually the equivalent of accusing God of being a harsh and unreasonable parent?

"Which of you, if his son asks for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!" Matthew 7:9-11