I’m Angry, and God Knows It

Tonight I need to speak honestly, because anything less feels like pretending. I am angry. I am in agony. I am watching the man I love slip away, slowly, painfully, and there is absolutely nothing I can do to stop it. Nothing I can fix. Nothing I can save.

And that helplessness… it’s a deeper kind of heartbreak. It feels like it’s tearing something inside me that I can’t stitch back together.

People talk about acceptance, or strength, or “trusting God’s plan,” but right now? My faith feels heavy. My prayers feel like broken sounds, drifting upward without answers. And sometimes I look toward heaven and whisper through tears, “Why him, Lord? Why us? Why this way?”

But here’s what I’m holding onto with shaking hands: God is not threatened by my anger.
Scripture is filled with people who cried out, who questioned, who felt abandoned and terrified, yet they were still held. Job in his ashes. David begging God not to hide His face. Jeremiah drowning in sorrow. Even Jesus, in His own agony, cried out: “My God, my God, why have You forsaken me?” (Matthew 27:46)



So tonight I’m letting God see everything, the anger, the fear, the heartbreak, the helplessness as I watch the love of my life suffer and I cannot ease it, cannot fix it, cannot take even one ounce of his pain away.

This grief feels like fire.

This love feels like both miracle and wound.
And still, somehow, I am trying to believe that God is here , even in the silence, even in the breaking, even when my faith feels thin and trembling like a thread.


If you’re praying, please pray for peace, for him, for our family, and for me. Because right now, I am just trying to breathe through a storm I cannot calm and trust a God I am wrestling with, but still reaching for.