“The Lord is not slow in keeping His promise, as some understand slowness. He is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance.” – 2 Peter 3:9

I can’t recall ever feeling anger toward God.

Maybe if I consider defiance–or even dismissiveness–veiled forms of hostility, that would count; but if I’ve ever felt that the Father warranted any of my aggravation, resentment, or rage, it’s slipped my mind. And that seems like something that I’d remember.

A while back, I’d made some plans for this weekend. Yesterday, today and tomorrow, specifically. At the risk of being way vague, I’ll just say that these plans were not the best for me. For my heart. For my testimony. For the path I had understood God desired me to continue walking out (I Cor. 7:17, James 1:4)–for my own good for His glory. For the few weeks leading up to today, I very much knew, in my moments of honest self-evaluation, that these plans weren’t going to be ultimately helpful toward all of the above, but I simply wanted to do it anyway.

And planned to. I mean, in the world’s eyes, these plans were nothing. No big deal. Nothing criminal. Nothing scandalous. In fact, with my “world lenses” on, it actually seemed like a healthy idea. Then again, something I always use as an illustration for my kids, simply by using my two fists: If my left fist is “The World,” and my right fist is “The Spirit,” even if our two arms are stretched out as far as they can be from each other, the space between the two is still too close.

Then I checked my email a few days ago. A friend had been doing some devotional writing, and in the midst of her prayer and study, the Holy Spirit spoke to her about my specific life circumstances. So she relayed the message into my inbox, saying, essentially:

“If you’d like to get yourself out of the pit your destructive choices were instrumental in putting you in, you need to stop this pattern of destructive choices. Or you’re never getting out.”

Until I was ready to stop my behavior that had already caused incredible wounds to myself, my family, and countless others around me; until I was ready to truly make choices correlating with a repentant spirit; I wasn’t going to be–I couldn’t be–in a place to get to what I ultimately desired.

She didn’t know what this pertained to, exactly, but I did. She didn’t know about my plans, but God essentially blew them up with that message via my faithful friend. And, ugh, was that disappointing. Even frustrating.

After a few hours of hemming and hawing, I decided this warning was surely divinely-inspired (enough!) to make the necessary call and cancel this weekend’s very-much-anticipated itinerary. Again, frustrating, disappointing, and saddening decision, but 100% the right one.

It’d be great–and a little less embarrassing–to say this story was uncharted waters for me. That this experience was a new and unique life quest thrown my way. It wasn’t. Maybe not the exact same plan design as this weekend’s, but still…like a dog returning to its vomit (Proverbs 26:11), I was all up for putting myself into another temporarily-appeasing/fascinating/exciting situation that was going to ultimately…not help.

To say the least.

That’s where I go back to the whole thing about being angry with God. There was a moment after reading my friend’s email where I was like, “Come ON, Lord! Why be so extreme? Why do the things that I want to have to come with such drastic ramifications? Or any ramifications at all?” But that temper-tantrum only lasted maybe a minute before my parental logic kicked in. I don’t threaten my kids to make life harder for them; I warn them through counsel so they’ll make choices that will make life easier–OK, maybe not easier…more fruitful…for them.

How can I be angry with the Almighty, who loves me more than I love myself? Who sees and desires great things for me if I’m willing to be at peace in joyfully serving Him (Psalm 37:4)? Of course it’s our flesh nature to want what we want, when we want it. But my flesh wants the opposite of what my soul and spirit really need. If I’m sowing into my flesh the temporary pleasures I want, I’m going to reap all of that toxicity that comes with it (Gal. 6:7-8); and the result is…well, deadly (Romans 6:23).

It’s God’s mercy that saves me from death.

It’s God’s mercy–other definitions include: grace, compassion, pity, forbearance, humanity–that uses others to open my eyes to what I’m doing that could be destructive. Or simply, not conducive to where He desires to take me.

It’s God’s mercy that forgives and gives second, third, twentieth chances.

In my case, pertaining to my friend’s message to me last week, it’s God’s mercy that, in spite of my repeated failures, the restoration in my life that I truly desire is still even a possibility.

When I take even 30 seconds to really see how merciful God has been toward me–when I’ve done literally nothing on my own to earn the good I’ve received–any penchant toward anger at God feels like a waste of time and energy. I’d rather make the changes I need to make so my heart can get back on the path of being ready for whatever it is He’s purposed for me next.