In Your Eye With a Betty Crocker Pie

***Warning: Graphic Details***

In Your Eye With a Betty Crocker Pie

I know. You don’t have to tell me how childish that sounds. But my momma reads this and out of an abundant respect for how she raised me and her own sensitivities, I will resort to the words of playground defiance.

Believe me, after a six year stint in the US Navy, I know lots of colorful expressions more accurately depicting what I would really like to say.

I am aware the name of my blog has raised questions for some. I am ok with that. In fact, as nicely as I can, I really don’t give a flip.

Really.

Ok, Mom. Take a deep breath. I’m actually good–calm, cool, and collected. For this half hour anyway. 🙂 But if I can convey where I am, then maybe some other struggling believers can have people in their corner some day who get where they are.

The astute reader would have already caught what I just said.

I am a believer. 

I have never disbelieved in God. On the other hand, I long for the day when I can feel like God is in my corner and worthy of my trust in Him

But you have to admit, there is a visceral disconnect from God one might expect when learning your handicapped son had been raped multiple times in your own house? By a fellow church member who held a loaded gun to his head no less. And how about this? Mr. Scum-of-the-Earth was taking an ED drug and making my son take it. (If you aren’t getting what I mean, then envision commercials of couples in bath tubs for when the moment is right.)

In the movie Toy Story, Rex said, “Now I have guilt.” I am the King of guilt for ever letting that man in our lives–wolves in sheep clothing and all of that.

Can you wonder why I might struggle with my faith and understanding? Can you grasp why I might need to write and speak and share the reality of my life?

Contrary to the beliefs held so dear by many, every life is not a fairy tale.

Aspects of mine have been far worse than a Brother’s Grimm horror story culminating in the double murder of my wife and son.

Yeah.

I know you know.

I am thankful for the redemption and beauty that has come back into my life since that horrific day. I am grateful for the love I get to experience minute by minute from those who love me still and more.

But God and I? We still have problems. And to be fair, those problems are not new. I have long wrestled with a God who would not heal my boy of his harsh disabilities.

The pain of hurting and crying over a child who wanted so desperately to be like everybody else has been replaced by the horror of of what he and his mother went through… And the subsequent hurt and pain of having to come to grips with that not once, but every single day.

Desperately Wanting To Believe Again is not about disbelieving in God. Rather it is about whether or not or even how to trust Him again.

When others insist on telling me God is going to take care of me, I can point to a day when He most decidedly did not.

Did not.

Desperately Wanting To Believe Again is simply about my journey to hope, trust, and peace with God once more.

I am not there yet, but you are more than welcome to share the ride…