Spiritual Temper Tantrums Are a Waste of Time

 

Psalm 42:5-6 New Living Translation (NLT)

⁵ Why am I discouraged?  Why is my heart so sad? I will put my hope in God!
  I will praise him again—my Savior and ⁶ my God!

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I remember never being the child that was able to have tantrums even at a young age where it was considered typical.  If my mom even sensed a tear or a cry in protest was about to happen, she would look me in the eye and put her face so close to mine that I thought fire would shoot out of her eyeballs and the flames would surely engulf me and spit me out.  In a terrifying whisper in my ear she would ask, “Do you want me to give you something to cry about?”  I knew exactly what she was talking about and decided that I would take option one and suck up any snot that threatened to trickle from my nose and willed my eyes to dry up and fast! Even the generic hiccupping, an aftermath of a punishment session, would provoke a “Don’t you dare” glare from my mom. Tantrums were not done in my family.  This is the one and only equal treatment that was doled out to my older brother and I justly. As a result, we were the kids that every adult complimented and loved to have to their home because “We knew how to act.”  Too bad no one trained me on what to do when spiritually everything was not going my way.

Now, fast forward thirty years and I am a single and exhausted mother  of a toddler and an infant.  I have prided myself on being independent and a hard worker.  I know God was sustaining me and I thought I was filled with faith. However, something unthinkable happened to me that sent me on a spiraling decline back to my childhood mentality, but this time there was no one was there to say “Don’t you dare!”  This thing, this beast, has been the undoing of many mothers and has sent a few into fits of rage. It, the beast, is known by its common name, the double stroller.  Sure, I know it’s just an object, but in my present state I was not only exhausted, I felt spiritually drained.  My Miss Independent attitude had met its match in the guise of an assemble-friendly tool.  Now, let me say that I cannot even screw a screw straight using a screw driver.  So the thought of having to put this contraption together was so daunting and aggravating that I began to have one of my ugliest spiritual temper tantrums ever.

          It did not take place all at once, but rather began slowly and escalated to a horrible crescendo that sent me into a tirade over a month long!  At first, I did not recognize what was happening to me, but by the end you can bet I knew and everyone unfortunate enough to be around me knew too!  I would look at the box that I had nearly killed myself hauling into my apartment and had propped near the door.  So it taunted me as I would enter and leave my place.  The babies and I would navigate around it.  I had convinced myself that it was no big deal and that I could just continue carrying the baby and hold the toddler’s hand.  After a few weeks of feeling like the Hunchback of Notre Dame with  aching arms and back, I knew my plan had failed.  So then, I thought “No problem” I was going to just wrap the baby to my chest and push the toddler in the single stroller that I had already been using.  Hmmm…not bad.  But each and every day that double stroller was there!  I started getting angry that I had paid good money to use that thing and there it was doing nothing that it had promised to do on the box.  So, then I went on a mission to get it put together.  My usual go-to friend was busy doing a number of other things-some of which were helping me!  Then, I tried someone from my church who had helped me do things before.  Ahah!  This was my ace in the hole.  Whew!  God was good. Wait for it…he had the nerve to not respond when I wanted him to in my state of emergency.  The one person that I knew would come through had other priorities?! What?  So my anger had started to climb and not only did I try to guilt him, but my attitude was so ugly.   When it finally became apparent that I could not berate, guilt, or bribe any help from him, I felt real steam coming out of my head.  I began to turn on God.  I was angry that he would allow me to have these children, but not give me any help!  How dare God leave me high and dry.  Where was my proverbial ram in the bush?  By this time another week had passed.  Now, my body was exhausted and so sore that I knew I was reaching my breaking point.  I reached out to another friend who I had known for 15 years.  If I could not depend on him, who could I depend on?  Instead of getting the “Oh, I’ll be over today to take care of it” response that I was hoping for, I got so many questions that I thought I was taking a work survey.  “What type of stroller is it? What make and model is it? When do you need it done by?  I do not know. My work schedule is busy. Can I take a look at it first before saying that I will do it?” On and on it went.     And to top it off ol’ boy never showed up and never called. I swear my fury must of caused spittle to ooze out the side of my mouth.   I began a silent rage.  Inside I was seething.  I mean really?  I could not believe that this was happening to me.  I felt completely abandoned by God and by everyone.  I mean this stroller was a true need.  It was not as if I wanted to shop or get my nails done!  I am not lazy.  I work two jobs and take care of the kids so I felt entitled to SOMEONE / ANYONE cutting me some slack!

So, then I had my “aha” moment and contacted someone at church who had offered to help me in the past, but I had never followed through because I did not want to bother him.  He was going to call me to set up a time to help. Inside I felt like the dragon’s fire was being extinguished. Finally, the cavalry was on its way.  That is until he did not call the day that he said he would.  Now, I felt truly wronged and entitled to cry, whine, and complain to anyone.  I would run to my sister friends and tell them how wronged I felt.  I mean, hey, I never ask anyone for anything unless I really truly cannot do it.  Hello, doesn’t anyone get it?  They would pat me on the back.  All they would say was “Hang in there girl.” Or “I wish I could help you.”

“Okay, God I give up.  I cannot do this!” was my last prayer.  No matter how tired I was, my spiritual temper tantrum had sucked the last bit of marrow out of me leaving nothing left! Inside my spirit had kicked, screamed, and thrown itself on the ground.    Spiritually, I was a toddler crying and arguing my case to God.  I had resorted to stomping my feet at God. Yet, there that stroller remained by the door.  It was a nasty reminder of my failure and incompetence. I was done.  I was going to curl up and surrender.  Inside I was waving my white hanky in the air.  Was everyone satisfied?  I simply could do no more.  I resorted to asking my babysitter if her boyfriend would do it for a fee.  I felt the size of a pea!  I was a beaten dog with my tail between my legs.

One Sunday after church, I got the phone call.  Help was on the way!  Words cannot describe how grateful I was because now I knew that God and no one else can help me.   I also was humbled by knowing that no one owed me anything.  My double stroller was put together at last and I felt like I hit the lottery.  God’s grace and mercy sent me a helper.  Although it did not happen when I wanted it to take place, that month’s journey showed me so much about how I needed to be disciplined in the spirit.  I learned that when things don’t go my way all my efforts are for nothing.  I should have had the faith to pray, seek God with all my heart, and to simply wait on him.  Like a parent who trains a child on how to act, the Holy Spirit was training me on how to lean on God.  My spiritual temper tantrum was a waste of time.