today, I cried hot, angry tears; and I wrote.

I got mad at God in a really weird way today. I got mad at how good He is to me when He doesn't seem to be so good to other friends of mine. It's not that I am any more faithful or deserving than anyone, so why do they not see His works as fully, quickly, and accurately as I do? How can He claim to be so good and yet fail to have equally immediate compassion on all His children? How can He alleviate my pain so effortlessly and have others struggle through the same pain for years on end, when they're banging on the door of His heart for Him to end it? This infuriated me, and as I cried and wrote out my anger, a poem of sorts formed.

Sometimes I don't believe You.
Sometimes I think I don't really need You.
Sometimes, You make me angry
and I'm not sure how to relate to You.

You said You wouldn't delay
so why do we still wait
for the salvation to arrive?

You say You're good to your flock,
yet the passing time mocks
the healing that still hasn't come.

I want to believe You,
to hear You and see You,
and trust that You're working for us.

I want to be near You,
understand You and fear You,
and know why You're taking so long.

I'm sorry I'm angry.
I'm sorry I yell-
but if You're really that "good",
You'd have compassion on those who fell.

You wouldn't stand by,
as it seems like You do;
You'd wipe tears from their eyes,
yet they wait, broken, on You.

Move, if You will.