From “Angry Converstations with God” by Susan Isaacs


A list of heroes and saints, real and fictional, came to my mind: Frodo Baggins, William Wallace, Dorothy Day, Mother Teresa. Mom. Each was dogged by pain and suffering. They fought evil without, doubt within. Some of them died, but I loved them for their courage. And then there was Jesus, who did not consider his equality with God something to hold on to tightfistedly (the way I hung on to my promises) but emptied himself, became a servant, was stripped, filleted, and hung on a cross to die a horrifying death. Why had they done it? For the goodie bag? For the glory? No. For the worse, the poorer, in sickness until death. For the love. Even my distorted God said it early on in counseling: He didn’t love me because I was good. (And I wasn’t.) He loved me because he is Love. I saw now all too clearly why I had married God: for the power and the glory. For the money. I was a spiritual gold digger. It is a chilling moment when your soul is laid bare in front of God: the real God who is wiser and fairer, more loving, and, yes, holier than thou. He owed me no apology. I thought of Job’s words: “I spoke of things I did not understand…. I despise myself and repent in dust and ashes”(Job 42: 3, 6)  p.219