God and I have not always been on speaking terms. Not that I blame him; he’s always in the right, always perfect. I don’t always like reality. Sometimes I think The Way Things Are sucks. So I complain to God, and he says, “Tough.” Then I get miffed at him for not taking my side, as if he really should reconsider the way he has made things, and I quit talking to him for a while. It’s childish; I know. Nothing comes of it except that I have to come to my senses and apologize.

Sometimes God quits talking to me. I don’t think he actually gets mad at me. It’s more like a dad who just gets tired of being ignored when he tries to tell his son something. So he quits telling him. I’m not always willing to listen. In fact, I can be downright stubborn, enough to try the patience of Jesus himself. I’m not proud of it, but there it is. God has a way of getting his point across without words. He just lets reality sink in until I can’t continue in denial any longer. Then I sheepishly acknowledge that he was right all along, and we’re cool again.

Even when we are cool, God can be reticent. He says one word for every one hundred I say. Maybe it’s because he has already said so much. Or maybe it’s because I just don’t hear him. Or maybe I’m the one who is always talking whenever we’re together. The funny thing is; when he says something, it somehow changes me.

He’s tough. He’s strong. He’s not safe or domesticated. He’s immovable and always thinks he’s right. But he’s good. He is always good. And the indescribably amazing wonder of it is that, good as he is, he accepts me. You can’t help admiring a God like that.