This morning I’m in the car driving to Atlanta to celebrate the life of my friend Andrew Pray.
That’s me and him in the image above.
He was a God honoring man.
So when things like a bus driver being careless leading to the end of his life happen, my humanity puffs up a bit.
I was sitting in the parking lot of a Publix by my house when I got the news.
I literally at that moment said…
“Damnit.  No.  Damnit.  Why God?  Not him.  Not him.”
At that moment I lived through the last 2 years of my life.
If anyone deserved punishment it was me.
I’m the mess of a sinner who wounded so many.
I’m the mess of a sinner who lived so selfishly for so long.
And then slowly, as the seconds passed by, I realized that Andrews death was not punishment.
Right now Andrew is winning.  We on the other hand have not won the race yet.
We are still running.
But it still doesn’t make sense.
And I know the rote of religion.
“Trust God.  He doesn’t always make sense.  Who wants to worship a God they know everything about anyways?”
Um.  I do.

So today, as this does not make sense, and all the choruses of death losing it’s sting are filled with numbness, I wrestle with God.
I wrestle with my faith sounding a lot like lots of other faiths today.
It’s not wrapped up in a Sunday morning sermon.
It’s wrapped up in confusion and pain and lots of WHY.
And it’s ok.
God doesn’t want you blind, deaf, and dumb.
Wrestle.  Cuss.  Ask.  Beg.
And at the end of it, you and I will come out closer to His face when we seek Him wearing the skin of our humanity instead of the skin of religion.
Los