Dear Jesus;

Dear Jesus;

I have spent the better part of the last week crying. You know that, but I just thought I might share it again.

I think I called you some names I likely should not have, and uttered some "not so nice" things under my breath as well, and for that I am sorry.

I don't mean to approach you in some unholy or sarcastic way, but I am left feeling nothing....well nothing but numb feelings tainted by cynicism.

Haiti is blowing my soul right out of the water.

Jesus, I hear people tossing around numbers of other devastations that happens every day in other parts of the world. I grieve for the suffering in places like Africa. You know I send money there through reputable organizations.

But I feel like with one swipe of your majestic hand, you could have calmed the earth, of which you created and ceased this earthquake and subsequent present loss of life.

I have read a million tweets, and blogs and I am not sure I caught anyone suggesting they are frustrated with you.

Just me.

Even the Haitians Jesus, they are praising you in the streets amidst dead bodies and bandaged bloody babies and their hands are lifted high in unison with their voices. After I wipe away the tears and pull my eyes away, I feel like tossing the Bible at the TV and screaming at them with rage that comes from a terrible place and ask them "Where was God when you needed Him...?"

Forgive me for my anger Lord. Really, please do.

But may I ask, with humbleness of heart....where were you?

Where are you?

Jesus, you know I was so enraged at Pat Roberston. The strangeness of what he said. So many people passed along this blog that Donald Miller wrote in a rebuttal and for awhile that made me mad too. I don't know how Donald Miller could make me me mad, but I was. I guess I was just mad at anything.

Then tonight, after another round of trying to find out information about whether my sponsor child is alive in the rubble, somewhere in Haiti, I thought to myself, maybe Pat's comments were not so wrong after all.

Oh Jesus, his comments were wrong to be pointing at the people of Haiti, that somehow they brought this tragedy on themselves.

But maybe his words made sense if they were pointed at you.

Maybe Pat couldn't conceive of how a God of good, and love, and beauty didn't step in...so Mr Roberston surmised that someone else must have caused your wrath.

Maybe Pat had a hard time finding you in the rubble of Haiti and decided to find a language that fit instead.

Maybe it was easier to think the God of wrath came, instead of thinking that the God of love stayed home and did nothing.

Forgive me Lord. I am on un-holy ground with my prayers tonight. But at 2:51 am, and tears streaming down my face, I can't make sense of this. I can't see the beauty or the lesson or the bigger picture. I just feel this overwhelming sadness.

Everyone says you can handle questions and doubts, and others say you can handle when people blame you for things. You know my heart Lord. I am much more comfortable questionings those that claim to follow you then question you directly. Forgive me if I crossed the line of insulting your divine, for you know that is not what I mean to do. I just wish somehow your love and mercy could have been on display, instead of this terrible tragedy.

I fear there will always be a question for me. A question of why Haiti of all places. Why the town my sponsor child, Yanique lives near. Why, why, why.

Where you can heal Lord, please heal. Where you can offer peace, please offer peace. Where you can somehow cause a miracle, please do God. Restore my cynical, Western, hard heart. Restore my faith to that of those in Haiti. You know I won't cease to pray or give to the cause. Be near to my broken faith right now, but please be nearer to those who cry for you in Haiti tonight.

From your loving yet dismayed daughter,

Amen.