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When God Gets the Blame

Religion

Healing: It's only natural to strike out after a disaster. But believers usually reconsider and accept it as God's will.

August 31, 2002|K. CONNIE KANG | TIMES STAFF WRITER

Linda Fatticci was a pastor's wife who loved the Lord and served as an active partner in her husband's ministry for two decades.

But when she became a widow with three adolescents at 46, she became so angry with God that she yelled at him.

"What are you doing here? I don't understand," Fatticci, a substitute teacher, remembers shouting while driving alone. Even when she took walks with a friend, she let God have it. How could he let John, pastor to the deaf at First Baptist Church of Lakewood, die of cancer? How could he let him suffer for four years? "We were doing everything right. We were honoring you!"

Historian Gerald Sittser had also long been a man of faith. An ordained minister with a doctorate in the history of Christianity from the University of Chicago, Sittser served as a pastor in Los Angeles before taking a professorship at Whitworth College in Spokane, Wash.

But after witnessing three generations of his family--his mother, wife and a daughter--die in a head-on collision caused by a drunk driver, he felt betrayed by God. "I've been faithful to you for years," he remembers crying in anguish. "How could you do this to innocent people?" He scoffed at the notion of prayer.

Even people of abiding faith can find themselves railing at God after irreparable losses. Fatticci and Sittser believe the anger, though surprising and sometimes guilt provoking, was a necessary part of a journey that strengthened their faith and stretched their souls.

Wrestling with God in the darkest moments, they say, led them to conclude, much as Job did, that God is too great for us to understand. That realization made other people more precious to them and allowed them to grow more sensitive, more loving, more generous with their time.

The Old and New Testaments are rich with people who implored God in anger, disappointment and frustration. "The book of the Psalms, which is the primary devotional literature of the whole Bible, is full of complaints," said David Augsburger, professor of pastoral care and counseling at Fuller Theological Seminary in Pasadena.

A long list of men who encountered God--Abraham, Moses, Job, Isaiah, Jeremiah, Hosea and Amos--expressed anger as well as submission, said Augsburger, a clinical psychologist, ordained Mennonite minister and noted author. Even Jesus cried out from the cross: "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"

Augsburger, who trains ministers and clinical psychologists, said people who are upset with God should vent their anger. Anger, he said, is simply a demand for justice. Repressed, this demand turns to guilt: the grieving person's belief that he, or even the person he lost, was in some way responsible.

"When you validate their anger, the demand doesn't spring back and boomerang on them," Augsburger said. His first aim in trying to help people who are angry with God is "to invite them to express fully what's in their pain, hear the pain and encourage them to go on to lament it." When they lament, he said, they are crying out, not only to the listener in front of them, but also to God.

"Our churches and society tend to give us messages that it's not good to be mad at God; it's blasphemy, we'll be struck by lightning or that we're not enough of a person of faith," said clinical psychologist Michele Novotni, co-author of "Angry With God."

Because God already knows everything about us, including our attitudes, it's best to be "open and honest about our anger and let God do the healing," said the Rev. Mark Brewer, senior pastor of Bel Air Presbyterian Church.

When Brewer was a junior in high school, his father, a pastor in Colorado, left his family and the ministry to marry his secretary. Two years later, Brewer's fiancee was killed by a hit-and-run driver.

Then, over the next 15 years, his older brother died of leukemia and a younger brother, a Presbyterian minister in St. Louis who had lost a leg in a train accident and was suffering depression, committed suicide, leaving behind three children, two of them disabled.

"Lord," Brewer remembers thinking the day he stood over his fiancee's body, "if this is what trusting you means, I want to renegotiate the deal."

Some of the tragedies in his life--Brewer calls them "big waves"--made him want to get far away from God. Yet, try as he might, he couldn't. God "was holding my boat and wouldn't let me go." He compares his experience to that of a toddler, kicking and screaming in a father's strong arms. After ranting, he finally let God hold and hug him.

Brewer said people of no or little faith are less likely to become angry with God because their expectations are lower. "But when you come to an understanding that the Lord is in control, then you want to say, 'Why did you allow this?' "

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