I’ve got your valentine right here

After four years of dating (and being dumped by) a series of men from other parts of the country, I met a great guy right here in California—just four weeks before I leave.

God has quite a sense of humor.

Nothing’s going to come of it, of course, because in addition to being kind, successful, and easy on the eyes, he’s also not stupid. Why would he invest in me when I’m bound for the faraway land of fried meat and gun racks?

Even if I were staying, chances are we wouldn’t work out any more than my other relationships have. But it’s the principle of the thing—it feels like God’s getting in one last dig to punctuate several years of disappointments, and it seems rather cruel.

Does that sentence make you uncomfortable? Cruel isn’t an adjective we typically apply to God. The Bible says he’s loving, gracious, patient, merciful, compassionate. It says he won’t give us a stone if we ask for bread. But some days I seem to be knee-deep in stones, and I bet you do, too. How should we process that?

If God is so eager to be in relationship with us, why does he so often keep his distance? (Please no cliched comments about “If God seems far away, guess who moved.” Read Psalm 44.) God keeps our tears in a bottle and cares about the direction of our lives—so why does he seem to ignore so many prayers?

In Disappointment with God, Philip Yancey writes, “[This] does not come only in dramatic circumstances….I have found that petty disappointments tend to accumulate over time, undermining my faith with a lava flow of doubt. I start to wonder whether God cares about everyday details—about me. I am tempted to pray less often, having concluded in advance that it won’t matter. Or will it? My emotions and faith waver.”

I’ve long since passed the stage of questioning God’s sovereignty or his power to do good. Instead, I find myself grappling with his desire to do good. Although I’ve known him most of my life, I don’t yet understand what I can ask for, or which of those bread prayers will result in more stone answers.

One thing I do know: for six months I’ve smiled patiently while people yank Jeremiah 29:11 out of context and earnestly quote it to me. In honor of Valentine’s Day, I’m smacking the next person who does.