As I slipped into bed last night, in my exhaustion I prayed one quick sentence that started a longer conversation with God than I had planned. With my eyes trying to force themselves shut as my head made contact with the cool pillow, I whispered, "See you soon Jesus... but not too soon, OK?" It was partially in jest, but mostly in earnest. I know that when my body begins the sleep of death, I will immediately see my Savior face-to-face. But I'm in no hurry to get there.
     And as if in reply, the Holy Spirit kept me awake long enough to bring to my mind John 4:10. When speaking to the Samaritan woman at the well, Jesus asks her for a drink of water. When she points out the oddness of his request (given their cultural, ethnic, gender, and religious differences), Jesus says, "If you knew the gift of God, and who it is that is saying to you, ‘Give me a drink,’ you would have asked him, and he would have given you living water." Jesus' answer to her was, in essence, "If you understood who I am and what I am able to offer you, then you would realize you're wanting the wrong thing."
     This reminded me of a question I've been pondering for a few months now - Is it OK to not want or not like what God has planned for me?  According to Bible verses like Romans 5:3 and James 1:3, I'm supposed to rejoice in my sufferings, right? If you read those verses in isolation from the rest of Scripture, you will get the idea that anything short of thankful praise during painful experiences is immature at best and downright sinful at worst.
     Did I want cancer? Of course not. Am I happy I got cancer? Again, no. Am I expected to wake up every morning smiling about my diagnosis, thanking God for the chance my kids may have to lose their father while they're young? Absolutely not. And I don't think that makes me less mature of a Christian. The problem with those expectations is they force a false dichotomy: Either I am sinfully rejecting God's plan for me, or I am joyfully accepting it. I propose instead that those two options exists on a spectrum, and maturity is a matter of seeking to move from the "sinful rejection" side to the "joyful acceptance" side.
     I would run out of space if I tried to list all the verses in Scripture that show God's people crying out in frustration, confusion, and even complaint as they suffer. If it's an issue of which position has the greatest number of verses to back it up, then "rejoice in suffering" loses big to "How long, O Lord?" Sometimes complainers are punished (like in Numbers 11:1), sometimes they are rebuked (Jonah 4:8-11). Sometimes they are answered in ways they don't expect (Job 38-42). Sometimes the Lord responds by explaining himself (Habakkuk 2:1ff). Sometimes he says nothing in response (Psalm 88:13-14). And sometimes the Lord very gently ministers to those who are hurting and complaining (1 Kings 19:4-8).
     But I can't escape the observation that God's people, when they suffer, are allowed to express their dissatisfaction with God's ways. And joining the chorus of protest is none other than Jesus himself, kneeling in the Garden of Gethsemane to pray, "My Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as you will" (Matthew 26:39). That's a nice way of saying, "Father, give me anything else but this. Anything except disobedience to you." I think that answers the heart of my question. If Jesus expressed a desire for God to change his path, then it cannot be sin or immaturity for me to have the same prayer ("See you soon, Jesus... but not too soon, OK?").
     But then there's that response to the woman at the well. What do I do with that? Well, as the Spirit ensured I could not quickly fall asleep without reaching rest on this question, I pondered how that verse might connect to my simple prayer. What I think the Lord was teaching me was that, even if I don't like God's plan for me right now, if I really understood who he is and what he is planning for me through this, then my prayer of "Anything but this" would quickly change to "Your will be done!" The problem is not in God's plan, the problem is my own failure to grasp "the depths of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God" (Romans 11:33).
     The Lord allows us to pray honestly. We can bring to him our anxieties and complaints and frustrations, knowing we will be heard and treated with compassion because he knows how weak we are (Psalm 103:14). And as we pray our frustration and our desire to have a different path, "the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words" (Romans 8:26). We don't know how to pray for the right things. A lot of my prayers can become "Anything but this! Make it stop!" But the Spirit helps me, translating my prayers into what I would pray for if I knew who it was I was praying to and what he plans to do in my life.
     It was a chastised child of God that finally got to sleep that night. I am a child who needs to be reminded that God's ways are higher than mine, and his way is perfect. I don't have to like it all the time, but the better I know my Heavenly Father, the better equipped I am to endure, accept, and perhaps eventually rejoice in the hard things he sends my way.