I began writing these articles about two years ago as a way of processing my thoughts, feelings, and imaginings after the sudden and unexpected death of my wife, Renee, which was followed 7 months later by the sudden, unexpected death of my brother.  As a part of the process of writing my thoughts, I promised myself [and anyone who might happen to read these musings] that I would be honest, and try to express the actual feelings I am experiencing.  Otherwise, what would be the point?

Four weeks ago today, I suffered a stroke as a complication of a surgery [which, ironically, was performed to prevent a future stroke].  My younger sister, who is far beyond me spiritually, suggested that my first article after the stroke should be entitled: "Detours".  What a great title!  What an inspiring article she had in mind for me.  It would be the story of a person whose already difficult path has become blocked, but who, undeterred by the circumstances that Life has, without warning, dropped onto his path, fearlessly endeavors to find, or perhaps even to create, a way around the obstacles, and building, through sheer determination and willpower, a new, and possibly even a better way to achieve the completion of his goals and the fulfillment of his dreams.  Who wouldn't have wanted to read that story?

I would certainly have taken my sister's advice and written such an inspiring article were it not for my promise of honesty in my writing as described above.  For better or worse, these articles do not veer into fiction, no matter how well-intentioned.

And so, with the guiding principle of brutal honesty in mind, and as I sit here 27 months after Renee's death, 20 months after my brother's death, and four weeks after a stroke that has robbed me of the use of my left hand and enveloped me in constant dizziness, this is what I am honestly, actually feeling: God hates me.

What else could it be?  It has been one hit after another after another.  And these hits have not been small.  Each blow has been soul-crushing, mind-numbing, life-altering.  And I get it - "The Lord disciplines those He loves." - Proverbs 3:12.  But it seems like, at some point, "discipline" can potentially drift into something else, something darker, something that no longer looks much like "love".  At least it can among fallible humans on Earth - you know - those made in the image of God.

Perhaps this is not what you were expecting to hear from a preacher.  I'm not sure that I was really expecting such a reaction either.  For Heaven's sake, I know better; I've preached better.  Yet, here I am, and the blasphemous thought - "God hates me" - is rattling around in my [admittedly] brain-damaged head.

Here's an idea - maybe I should just chalk this crazy idea up to the loss of brain cells, the loss of function, the loss of sense caused by the stroke, and let it go as that - "Nothing to see here, folks; move along".  But I have a suspicion that this horrible thought is not directly related to brain damage, that maybe I actually think it could be true, that maybe I'm not the only one who has wondered about God's feelings toward him when Life spins out of control.  

Sure, I could blame God just like that amazing man, Job, did when, without warning, he found himself and his children and his servants and his property being used as mere pawns in a Cosmic game of chess between God and Satan.  But what's the point of doing that?  I already know how it turned out when Job challenged God.  I don't need to go there myself.

The truth is, how can I blame God for hating me?  I hate myself lots of the time.  

I'm actually not really even upset with God about all this.  Even if this "hatred" seems a little strange for a God we generally think of as being "love", there seems to be precedent for it.  See Romans 9:13 where God says: "Jacob I loved, but Esau I hated."  And those two guys were twins!  What makes me think I am more worthy or deserving of God's love than Jacob, or less worthy and deserving of God's hatred than Esau?  Have I not shown over and over again, in countless ways, in countless words, in countless thoughts, in countless actions, that I have no more respect and honor for my "birthright" - both the birthright of my family name and heritage, and the birthright of my spiritual heritage - than Esau had for his birthright?  Have I not lived every bit as far outside of God's hopes for and expectations of me as Esau did?  Is God's hatred not what I have earned?  Is His hatred not what I deserve?  Are the losses, the struggles,the pain, the grief which continue to pile up on me not what I have earned and deserve?

Is that honest enough for you?

And, ok, I get it.  These latest losses - of function, of freedom, of dignity, of courage, of equilibrium, of a sense of self-worth, of "joie de vivre", that have been poured out on me, seemingly in "good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over", on top of all of the other losses - certainly could have been much, much worse.  I ought to be counting my blessings.  I ought to be thankful that I can even sit here and peck out this screed with one finger.  I ought to be thankful that I can walk.  I ought to be "counting it all joy" [James 1:2],  I ought to be grateful for the help, the support, the love that has been poured out on me - also in "good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over", not just over the last four weeks, but since this journey began 27 months ago.  And the truth is, I am beyond grateful for all of that, and for each soul who has, in any way, stood up for me, or knelt in prayer for me.  I have been humbled by, I have been overwhelmed by such love.  

And it suddenly occurs to me that all of these blessings and all of this love that has been poured out on me has been, and is, and will always be, undeserved and unearned.  It is like the love and grace of God.  In fact, it is not only "like" the love and grace of God - it actually "is" the love and grace of God.  This is how God's love for people is shown today.  [Note to self: we, I mean, "I", have a gigantic responsibility as [a] follower[s] of God to demonstrate His love in and for and to this world - that is, to people who have neither earned it nor deserve it.] 

So, let me see if I've got this figured out.  The terrible losses of the last 27 months are not evidence that God hates me, but the unearned blessings poured out on me over this same time are evidence that God loves me.  Is that about right?

Well, it's hard for me to understand, but I don't know if Job understood it all that well either.  And even though his health and wealth were restored to him after the game ended, and even though he fathered more children, my guess is that Job carried the scars of his "participation" in the Cosmic chess game with him for the rest of his life.  And the ten graves of his first children certainly never left him - scars and graves serving as constant reminders that completely understanding God and His plan is beyond our ability in this life.

I now have my own scars.  And I know where some graves are too.                   

Ambrose Ramsey | Pastor and Shepherd