Lover's Quarrel

Last night, I was reading in Deuteronomy (not a safe place for feminists) and came across a scripture that’s tripped me up a time or twenty two before.

The previous times I’ve unhappily read that scripture and those in its camp, I’m dealt with them rationally, as any evangelical, truth-seeking, semi-feminist might. I researched. I asked questions. I  wrote letters to The Bible Authorities. I held my husband captive while I thought-aloud, wrestling with the God I Know and the God Who Wrote That.

Last night, God wasn’t so lucky.

I closed my Bible and ranted and raved at Him.

(You should be so thankful to be spared the monologue.)

And that was that.

I brushed my teeth, turned my light off, kissed my husband goodnight and fell asleep.

When I woke up, it was as if nothing had happened. The lingering stench of a lover’s quarrel with God was nowhere to be found. My mood was not foul, my teeth weren’t sore from night-grinding and thoughts of the previous night’s fall-out hardly crossed my mind. It wasn’t until mid-morning that I recalled the utter frustration and bewilderment I had walked through.

Oddly enough, as the specific words I’d read bubbled to the surface of my consciousness I was okay. Unlike times prior, I didn’t need to research, write to The Bible Authorities or duck-tape my husband’s mouth for a live, but silent, witness between me and my God.

This kind of reaction is pretty much foreign to me. My relationship with my husband and my relationship with God have been characterized by Analyzing. If there’s a problem, we know exactly why and for how long and what happened when I was 7 to play into it all. Analyzing is right up there with Forgiveness, Intimacy, and Trust.

We’ve all seen those movies where passionate couples bicker and then, instead of calmly resolving the matter and addressing the core issues, they just make out and make up. (Induce vomiting here.)

That absolutely goes against my grain.

When I considered why it was I was choosing “to not go there” with God and to simply move on, the most simple, disarming word came to me:

Need.

I need God.

I need him for healing. I need him for a reconstructed identity. I need him for freedom from myself. I need him for love. I need him for the ever-elusive security we women crave. I need him for purpose. I need him for my future.

I need him right now.

I don’t have time for another round of Why-On-Earth-Did-You-Tell-Moses-To-Write-That. Frankly, I don’t care for another round.

Right now, I’m going to let bygones be bygones  and make up like those ridiculous lovers in the movies whose relationships we all know don’t stand a chance.

Or maybe they do.

This one certainly does.

What about you? When have you wrestled with God over some issue? When have you let go?