I’m in love. I’m proud of my work. I’m surrounded by great friends. And I’m pissed off.

Sometimes I think I’m angry at the state of the world. Sometimes I think I’m really angry at myself for not understanding the state of the world. If I were truly honest I’d admit that lately I’ve been angry at God.  I’ve felt recently like I’ve seen light overwhelmed by darkness around me and I am left swinging at shadows trying to fight for some sense of “fairness” that deep down I know belongs on the shelf next to Santa Claus, unicorns, and low-fat ice cream.

It’s amazing how I can shrug and say “Life’s not fair” when the unfairness is a tv screen away but when it’s at arms length I’m the first to beat on the chest of Almighty God demanding He explain Himself.

But a few weeks ago – when life was calm and simpler – I had a bit of an epiphany that I’m still processing now…

Remember the movie National Lampoon’s Vacation? If you haven’t seen it, go ahead and shut this blog down and immediately begin building a time machine to go back to when Blockbusters were still a thing and rent it.

At one point in the movie Clark W. Griswold seeks the help of a rural mechanic and after the repairs are done he asks how much he owes. Just watch for yourself…

I see God as that mechanic. Now I don’t mean to offend or be sacrilegious – but I saw myself as Clark who needed help and when help came he tried to settle up but the Mechanic’s price was too high.

“Give me all of it.” God says.  He demands everything of me. I try to wall off areas that are off limits – my health, my love, my friendships – but nothing is “safe” from Him. Just as He told the rich man who asked how to get into heaven, “Sell everything you’ve got and give it to the poor” (read that story)

When I reflect on that I am conflicted. Half of me realizes that it’s truth – the kind of truth that comes with a heavy sigh. The other half of me recoils in terror and attempts to hide in the bathtub. I want something I can understand to be fair. I want a price I’m willing to pay. I want … control.

And the past few days have taught me that I simply do not have that. I cannot fold my arms, wrinkle my nose and magically twist life to suit me. Maybe one day I’ll stop wishing for such a power… maybe.

So where does that leave me? Abandoned to the whim of God I can’t predict or understand? Should I just make excuses for Him and pretend that everything is fine when every day brings new evidence that it is not?

I cannot say that it’ll all be ok. I cannot say wounds won’t leave scars.

What I must admit – however – is my life has always been a walk into darkness – into the unknown. Every day has been a swirling chaotic mix of hope and danger and I was kidding myself to think that I could predict what was coming up next. The days I took for granted and spent dreaming about the future were actually miracles themselves.

This is where the Mechanic Metaphor unravels because God does not demand greedily from us. He asks us to only to realize that what we have came from Him. One pastor talked about walking with hands out, palms up in the rain… letting the water land and slide through our fingers and not struggling to save it in case God decides to cut us off.

I don’t fully understand it and I still sometimes think I know best (even as I write this, I feel that way) but I am living proof that I’m not smarter than destiny.

I’m left with a choice to trust that God is somehow leading me, is somehow beside me, and was there even when life let me down. I’m left realizing that admitting this means that I cannot pretend to keep anything from Him.

“Ok God, you can get a blog post.”

“Ok, God, You can have this Sunday morning as long as I’m not working or hungover”

“Ok, God, what do I have to give You to feel like life makes sense again?”

and He responds, “How much you got?”