Do you ever just want to say “I don’t care”? Not an “I don’t care” that’s apathetic, but an “I don’t care” laced with anger and frustration.
The serenity prayer starts “God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change.” I don’t want serenity and acceptance; I want change. I want God to step up to the plate and fix the things I can’t.
(So I’m typing this on my phone and autocorrect changed God to Food in that last sentence, which is ironic because I tend to use food to avoid the pain, too, and that is something He has given me the power to change.)
My response to my desire for God to fix everything NOW is to impatiently say “I don’t care” in an attempt to mask the pain.
I feel a bit like the Psalmist who often asked “How long, O Lord?” I guess I’m in good company in my impatience with God’s timing. Even the saints under the altar in Revelation 6 cried out to God, wanting to know “How long?” They were told to wait; I am told to wait. In the process of waiting, I’m learning God’s timing is perfect even if I don’t understand it.
Some things never change, or so it seems from my limited point of view. I believe God has a plan, is working in His timing, and will answer my prayers for change. And so like the father of the possessed boy in Mark ch. 9, I exclaim “I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!” Mark 9:24 (NIV).
The waiting, I think, is most challenging when you see a glimmer of hope, a sliver of change when a crisis brings someone to the end of their rope. But then the crisis is diverted and you see the change wasn’t all that you thought it was. Or at least it doesn’t seem so on the outside. That’s when I have to remember that God sees the heart; I’m looking only at external factors.
So the next time you hear me say, “I don’t care,” don’t believe it. I care much too deeply and am simply feeling impatient. Perhaps you could remind me that means it’s time to pray and trust.