A Good God on What Passes for a Bad Day

Music practice finished up, then my two eldest sons and I drove home from church. It was 10:30PM when we set out.

I recalled as we pulled into the driveway that we had still been unable to find my building access badge for work when we left. It fell out of the stretchy lanyard sometime during the afternoon, I think; but none of us seem to know where it disappeared to. 

That is to say also that by the time we got home from practice, my wife was getting ready for bed. And that was only proper. It had been a hard day for her too. She was tired. Her head and stomach hurt. Maybe that was due to the stress of the day. 

I complained to her at length anyway. Let me confess I did it in a self-indulgent way. The realization dawned on me too late, though, that she was very tired herself. I had just been very inconsiderate in fatiguing her still more. But no apology was concurrent my realization. Instead, I complained still further about us both being so tired. To be entirely fair and honest with you, I probably sounded like an idiot until we agreed at some time well after 11PM that we should try to get some sleep. 

Only that was not the beginning of sleep. At least it wasn’t for me – not by a long shot. Instead, there was a tossing, and turning, and a somewhat tormented feeling inside about how the day had gone.

Our son burned his hand with some hot coffee also. Then one of my co-workers told me children shouldn’t drink coffee when I told him about it. He’s probably right, doggone it! 

After an hour of this, I got up and decided to write it all down. By then it was 1:20AM. But the hope was that the writing of it all out would pave the way for sleep. In just a few more hours it would be time to get back to work, after all.

Really, though, the thought occurred all the more with a survey of as much a listing of grievances as energy and concentration afforded. Only there wasn’t any benefit to having written it all out, at least not if there was not some conclusion to reach from it all.

What peace could be had? What acceptable terms could be come to with the frustration and disappointment of a day of setbacks?

Only this: that God knows more truly than we do the events of the day, and what purpose He has to work them all to the good for those who love Him and are called according to His purpose. However bad the day seemed to me, or to us, God is no less good in such a day as in those which we think most idyllic and picturesque. 

Perhaps that seems a rather short happiness at the end of a lot of complaining. If so, I pray the good Lord and you forgive me. Yet all the more important is it to be content with God’s purpose in our lot when we could complain, or have complained, or find much is not to our liking. So why spare you the detailed accounting and overview? I decided not to, and hope the whole is more valuable to you than the sum or subtraction of any of the parts.

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