I walked out of the sanctuary and knew I had heard God. I knew that He had worked on Mr.’s heart and made him “make” me go to church. God intended for me to be at church, that particular Sunday, to get my questions answered.

I couldn’t get what our teaching pastor said, out of my head.

“When you were in school, your teachers would do everything they could to prepare you for a test. They made up fun lessons. They let you work in groups. They had you complete individual work. They were always there; ready to help whenever you needed it.

Now, when test day camethey were silent. They never left the room. They were there watching you, and not saying a thing.”

Did he really use an analogy of a teacher and God? (I get goose bumps as I sit here and recall the events of that day!)

So Mr. and I did our regular Sunday routine of getting some lunch together, running a few errands and heading back home. As we were driving- my Dad called. He needed Mr.’s assistance on fixing a lawnmower, and wanted to know if he could come down and get some help. Of course I say it’s OK.

A little later that afternoon, Dad comes over. (Now, during this whole ordeal- I have only talked to my family and Mr.’s family. No one else knew of my situation and how bad I was. How mad I was at God). He and Mr. work on the lawnmower, and somehow my Dad finds a way to have some alone time with me.

All he says is, “How are you doing?” I was able to look him in the eyes and say, “A little bit better than yesterday.” Dad was an incredible listener, and let me share my story of the sermon I heard at church that morning. I shared with him how I felt utter rage at God. Dad didn’t say a word. He let me pour my heart out. He didn’t say, “Oh, K, you are not supposed to get angry with God.” Or, “You really are having some heart issues, you need to pray for forgiveness.” Or, “I raised you better- I can’t believe my daughter would act like this.”

My Dad (a former Marine and retired Sargent from the Army) sat without judgment in our driveway and only said a few, but powerful, words to me. Words that I will remember until the day I return home and meet Jesus (and my baby) face to face.

After all of my ranting, my Dad said, “K, how many times did you get mad at me as your Earthly father? Do you really think you’re not ever going to get mad at your Heavenly Father?”

Wow! Basically my Dad was telling me it was OK to be mad. It was OK for me to be feeling the way I was feeling. It was OK that I ran away from God, ‘slammed my bedroom door in His face’, and wanted nothing to do with Him.

No one had said those simple words to me…it’s OK.

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