It is no coincidence my study this morning coincides with the time of year which coincides with my current situation of wonderment regarding the “mistreatment” I’m suffering, you are suffering and what He suffered—for us. No, let me make it personal. For me.
I did not ask for all the pain, hardships and frustrations life has placed upon me. I did not ask to be here. Nobody consulted with me and made me aware of what life would bring and then let me make the decision if I wanted to participate, or not. I didn’t have the option You, Christ, had. Discussing it with Someone who knew everything, all the what, when’s and how’s. You did it knowing full well what You were to expect. I didn’t have that choice and at the end of the day, as my brother used to question, “If I choose You I get heaven, but if I choose not, I get death, and a painful death at that! What a choice.”
I watched a movie how You were betrayed, spat upon, whipped, pricked, stuck and struck and then died. Some said You went through so much for us and we should not complain, but I’m going to complain. We didn’t ask for this. You did.
God, the Father, Your turn. I never had children because by the age of eleven I knew I would not want to be responsible for bringing anyone into this world suffering even as I was doing even at that young age. Why would I? I had the choice to make the decision and would maintain that decision even though two former wives got pregnant. My commitment to that choice went so far as to have them killed. I won’t use the softer term, “aborted”, because let’s call it what it is, I “killed” them so they would not know what I know, struggle as I struggle. They, friends, tell me they are “Your gift”. Well, I sent Your gifts back. How I wished someone had had the strength and courage to have done the same for me.
How could You? None of this needed to be. None of it! With all the wisdom, foresight and power, You couldn’t have come up with a better way? This is it! This is the best You could do? I am angry when I speak to all these women I have come into contact who allowed themselves to be impregnated with men who were worthless, leaving them lives of no support bringing up children alone. I’m angry with them, the mothers, because they chose to open their legs, and not their minds, to all the pain, suffering and disappointment their children would suffer when they themselves were not prepared nor ready. Could not take care of themselves never mind a child. That, to me, is the greatest of mistreatment and child abuse. Yet, the most ridiculous of answers they give me is, “I love my child(ren)!” Oh, you love seeing them suffer because of your not planning properly, not getting your education, a career, being able to provide for them adequate for food, clothing, education, medical/dental, all those things which go into making a satisfactorily lived life. Ask the child—later.
Now, it is later. I’m Your child—supposedly, and so I’m going to ask the question and I won’t be satisfied with platitudes. Why? Why would You knowingly subject Your child to abuse, both me and Christ? Where’s the love in that?
March 31, 2016