A few weeks ago I experienced a defining moment in friendship: my close friend shared with me that I’d hurt her.
Although the situation that led to hurt feelings was unintentional, it happened nonetheless. Feelings of isolation, rejection and bitterness crept inside of her heart. I walked around oblivious.
And would have stayed oblivious had she not broken the ice.
After we both recognized our weaknesses in the situation and talked it out, we were fine. Actually, our friendship grew closer.
And the wedge that had grown, unbeknownst to me, was removed.
But it didn’t end there.
As I reflected on the experience, I realized there was another relationship in my life where wedges had formed.
Except this time, I was the hurt friend.
And the person who’d hurt me was God.
And while I knew I needed to do what my friend had just done with me, I delayed the experience. What place did I have to tell a perfect God that I felt hurt by Him?
None, or so I felt.
After realizing that this next step was inevitable, I finally caved. I shared with God feelings I’d suppressed and hidden. Feelings that brought me shame, but needed to be spoken nonetheless.
I shared with Him that I felt He caused my cancer. That I felt hurt from Him allowing it to happen. That I don’t know why I get to live and others die. I told him I struggle with knowing He is good. I told Him that sometimes the physical pain, embarrassing moments and situations that leave my heart broken because of cancer are tough. Really tough. And that as a big God who controls everything, I didn’t understand how His plans are labeled as “good.”
I felt silly saying some of it. I knew a lot of it wasn’t true. But as I shared my heart and admitted how I felt, I immediately noticed a change.
He wasn’t mad at me. Lightening didn’t strike. Ironically, I felt closer to Him.
And ultimately, I felt like I could believe Him again.
The walls came down once I addressed my feelings and the lies I’d believed. I recognized that I’d been trying to not make waves or ruffle any feathers. Even God’s feathers.
While openness was tough in the moment, I learned it’s what intimacy requires. If I want solid relationships, I’ve got to draw close and be willing to do the hard things.
I’ve got to remove the wedges.