He’s always complaining, Father.

They wake him when he wants to sleep;

They shower him according to their schedule;

The food is not hot;

He doesn’t like corned beef;

His bed wasn’t made properly;

Someone has stolen his bananas;

The lady in the next room keeps him awake;

The air-conditioning is too cold …

The list is endless.

No matter what they do,

Or we do,

He is not happy.

His world is not as he wants it;

And it’s their fault,

someone’s fault,

our fault …

Who am I to comment?

This could be me—

Always complaining:

I am not happy.

The world is not as I want it,

And it’s their fault,

someone’s fault,

your fault …

You didn’t answer my prayers;

A good man suffered;

Those who oppose you are succeeding in their plans;

You allowed people to die in the tsunami;

Your servant has been martyred;

My friend wasn’t healed;

I missed out on that promotion;

You didn’t tell me what I should do …

I complain with the best of them.

Yet you love me.

Does a clay pot dare argue with its maker, a pot that is like all the others? Does the clay ask the potter what he is doing? Does the pot complain that its maker has no skill? (Isaiah 45: 9, GNT)

Complain if you must, but don’t lash out. Keep your mouth shut, and let your heart do the talking. Build your case before God and wait for his verdict. (Psalm 4: 4–5, MSG)


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