Brynn’s fists struck the steering wheel, her breath fogging in the cold air of the parked car. Thick, blinding tears blurred the windshield as she let herself feel it—how deeply, how relentlessly furious she was with God.
"Why now?" she choked out into the emptiness of the night. Her mom had been everything—her anchor, her biggest encourager—and now, cancer had ripped her away in the slowest, cruelest way Brynn could imagine. She had prayed. Hard. And it hadn’t mattered.
Brynn sat there for a long time, the loneliness pressing heavy against her like the darkness outside. Church sermons echoed in her head, all tidy promises about God's goodness. But it didn’t feel good. Not one bit.
She thought of David, how he’d poured out anger and despair to God in the Psalms. Brynn had always read those prayers with some detachment—until now. Now, they felt like cracked windows letting in air she could finally breathe.
Sniffling, she wiped her face on the sleeve of her sweater and glanced down. Her Bible had slid onto the floorboard during the chaos of the past week. She reached for it absently, the leather cover cold and familiar in her hands. It opened to a page worn thin from use—Job.
Of course.
She skimmed through, and slivers of Job’s words pierced her heart: "Even now my witness is in heaven; my advocate is on high." (Job 16:19)
The thought sparked the barest ember inside her. Had Job grieved and raged at God? Yes. Had he found a way to keep believing God was still there, even when everything crumbled? Somehow, yes again.
Still holding the Bible, Brynn rested her forehead against the wheel.
"I’m angry, God," she whispered, voice trembling.
"I don’t get it. I don't like it. It hurts so much." Her voice cracked open around her confession. "But...I don't want You to leave."
And there it was—a flicker of wonder. That simple, raw offering, so small and broken, felt like a prayer all on its own. Brynn realized the anger hadn’t driven God away. It hadn’t even surprised Him. If anything, it had thrown open a door she hadn't known she barred shut.
Slowly, deliberately, she turned the ignition and drove to a nearby park, where the night sky stretched vast and hushed and the lake shivered gold under the moonlight. She sat on a frost-dusted bench, the cold sinking in through her jeans, her cheeks still wet.
A noise drew her attention—a small girl laughing as she twirled clumsily on the pier, bundled in a lavender coat much too big for her. Behind her, a woman—likely her mother—watched smiling. The intermingling of laughter and love lifted something inside Brynn’s chest.
It wasn’t grand. It didn’t erase her loss. But it was enough.
Brynn tilted her head back and let her tears fall freely now—not just grief, but gratitude, too. Somewhere deep inside, she sensed God wasn’t angry with her for her questions, her fury, or her aching heart. He welcomed it. He welcomed her.
“I’m still yours, even if I stumble all the way there,” she said into the open sky.
And she knew—somehow, in the marrow of her soul—that she wasn’t truly alone.
—
Bible Verses:
Brynn’s fists struck the steering wheel, her breath fogging in the cold air of the parked car. Thick, blinding tears blurred the windshield as she let herself feel it—how deeply, how relentlessly furious she was with God.
"Why now?" she choked out into the emptiness of the night. Her mom had been everything—her anchor, her biggest encourager—and now, cancer had ripped her away in the slowest, cruelest way Brynn could imagine. She had prayed. Hard. And it hadn’t mattered.
Brynn sat there for a long time, the loneliness pressing heavy against her like the darkness outside. Church sermons echoed in her head, all tidy promises about God's goodness. But it didn’t feel good. Not one bit.
She thought of David, how he’d poured out anger and despair to God in the Psalms. Brynn had always read those prayers with some detachment—until now. Now, they felt like cracked windows letting in air she could finally breathe.
Sniffling, she wiped her face on the sleeve of her sweater and glanced down. Her Bible had slid onto the floorboard during the chaos of the past week. She reached for it absently, the leather cover cold and familiar in her hands. It opened to a page worn thin from use—Job.
Of course.
She skimmed through, and slivers of Job’s words pierced her heart: "Even now my witness is in heaven; my advocate is on high." (Job 16:19)
The thought sparked the barest ember inside her. Had Job grieved and raged at God? Yes. Had he found a way to keep believing God was still there, even when everything crumbled? Somehow, yes again.
Still holding the Bible, Brynn rested her forehead against the wheel.
"I’m angry, God," she whispered, voice trembling.
"I don’t get it. I don't like it. It hurts so much." Her voice cracked open around her confession. "But...I don't want You to leave."
And there it was—a flicker of wonder. That simple, raw offering, so small and broken, felt like a prayer all on its own. Brynn realized the anger hadn’t driven God away. It hadn’t even surprised Him. If anything, it had thrown open a door she hadn't known she barred shut.
Slowly, deliberately, she turned the ignition and drove to a nearby park, where the night sky stretched vast and hushed and the lake shivered gold under the moonlight. She sat on a frost-dusted bench, the cold sinking in through her jeans, her cheeks still wet.
A noise drew her attention—a small girl laughing as she twirled clumsily on the pier, bundled in a lavender coat much too big for her. Behind her, a woman—likely her mother—watched smiling. The intermingling of laughter and love lifted something inside Brynn’s chest.
It wasn’t grand. It didn’t erase her loss. But it was enough.
Brynn tilted her head back and let her tears fall freely now—not just grief, but gratitude, too. Somewhere deep inside, she sensed God wasn’t angry with her for her questions, her fury, or her aching heart. He welcomed it. He welcomed her.
“I’m still yours, even if I stumble all the way there,” she said into the open sky.
And she knew—somehow, in the marrow of her soul—that she wasn’t truly alone.
—
Bible Verses:
