In prayer groups and online discussions,
I’ve often encountered people carrying deep anger—
toward spouses,
children,
parents.
Sometimes, toward God.

I understand the first kind.
We are human.
We wound each other.
We betray,
neglect,
misunderstand.

Anger in those cases
can be just,
even necessary.
It can be the first step toward truth,
reconciliation,
or healing.

But anger toward God?
that’s different.
God is perfect.
He is incapable of wrongdoing.
He does not betray.
He does not err.
He does not forget.

So when we find ourselves angry at Him,
the problem is not with God.
It’s with us.

It may be grief misnamed.
It may be confusion,
disappointment,
or unmet expectations.
But it is not righteous anger.

To be angry at God
is to accuse the only One
who cannot sin.
It is to place blame
where none belongs.

And yet—even here—
He is merciful.
He receives our misplaced anger
without retaliation.
He waits.

He invites us to look deeper,
to see that our anger
is often pain in disguise,
and that healing begins
when we stop accusing
and start trusting.

I remember a moment from my childhood—
six years old,
crying at home,
upset about something
something I cannot recall.
I began naming my anger aloud:
“I’m mad at Dad.
I’m mad at Mom.”
But when I reached for God—
some mysterious figure I barely understood—
I paused.
“But not God,” I said.
“I could never be mad at God.”

I hadn’t been taught that.
My father,
though a good man,
was an atheist then.

My mother,
a good woman,
held a quiet,
inactive Baptist faith.

God wasn’t a regular part of our household vocabulary
and yet,
something in me knew.
Knew that God was not to blame.
Knew that reverence was the right response,
even in pain.

That pause was grace.
Not learned.
Not inherited.
Just given.

Years later,
I would come to know Him consciously.
But even then,
I realized:
He had been guiding me
long before I acknowledged Him.

Through restraint.
Through silence.
Through the mercy
of not being blamed.

“This God—
his way is perfect;
the word of the Lord
proves true;
he is a shield
for all those
who take refuge in him.”
—Psalm 18:30 (ESV)

The Ordinary Path
is lit
for those who seek mercy,
memory,
and meaning.

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