Here’s a story I’ve recently unearthed on my computer about how utterly wrong one can be about God.
By Nicole Marie Hilton, 2015, about 2007 in high school
“I need to tell you something,” L said.
“What?” I said, putting a look of deep interest on my face.
“I had a dream once…where I was standing on a lake, which seemed to go on for forever. In the distance I could see a man walking on the water. Nicole—I knew it was Jesus Christ.”
I paused, staring at her perfectly makeup-ed face. I stared for a little too long—so that I was finally conscious of the look of rapt attention slowly sliding off my face. And underneath? Consternation. Confusion.
I finally managed to say, “Wow, L. That’s…that’s wonderful.” I smiled, trying to let her know that pseudo-Nicole was truly happy for her experience. Because, that would be the normal reaction from anybody else, right?
Back at home, I was quiet. Didn’t say much to my parents when they greeted me, and I even avoided Annie, who painfully had gotten up off her place on the ground to greet me.
I brushed my teeth, washed my makeup off, put on my green and pink striped Victoria’s Secret pajamas, and then I knelt by my bed.
“Father?”
There was nothing. As usual.
“Father? I know you are there. I know it. Because, I know all the testimonies are true.”
Still, nothing.
“I don’t know why you’ve turned your back on the one person in this entire town who most needs your help…probably. I’m….I’m…I’m angry at you! Or maybe just tired. Tired of knowing you never listen to me! How you’ve turned your back on me again and again, but you hear everybody else!” My hands were shaking with rage, and I dug my fingernails into my palms so that crescent-shaped bruises would form while I slept.
“GOD!” I shouted. My heart was swelling with all the tears of my life, and hopefully soon it would burst, and I would slip into a blessed void where I simply was not.
I climbed into bed, giving up on prayer. I buried my face in my pillow and screamed and screamed.
Why does the girl with the rich parents, perfect body, personality, face, and singing voice, get to see Christ—and I don’t? I thought Christ went after the one who was lost, and left the ninety nine behind. But, that’s not the case!
Or, maybe it was. But first, the one lost sheep has to be on God’s radar, and it was perfectly plain to me that I wasn’t. That I never was.
This was how I felt for years and years. I think about Job, and how he went through his dark night of the soul, too. And then I think about how God rewarded him–as I feel I have been rewarded. I mean, God has fulfilled the deepest wishes of my heart. I know, now, that He knows me–and that He’s never ever forgotten me. He has prepared a place for me–close to the beating ventricles of his heart.
Healing with Christ 