Larry posted a comment to my last post:

I understand about the Snark-O-Meter going off the scale… I understand about the Rebel taking the point. I even understand about being just plain overdone.

But could you please TELL ME what in the world is going on? WHY is the meter pegged? I’m trying to piece the story together and there just aren’t enough dots to make a coherent pattern.

I’m sure there are others who want to know. And I have no intent to try to stop the rebel. Rebellion is good for the soul as long as it leads to God, and you do have to rebel against much of modern life to get close to him.

Here’s the deal. Everybody’s got rules. Even the Church. Even God. I’m just sick of playing by the rules when it seems that God doesn’t.

Does He get to make up the rules? I guess so. This whole universe is His deal, so I guess the Creator should get to make the rules. But I’m sick of playing by the rules but Him not playing by any.You can say "that’s His right" till you’re blue, but I don’t care anymore. I’m sick of it. I’m angry. And I’m not gonna bury this anger because "He’s God", or stuff it down and pretend I no longer feel it because it’s "not my place" to fight with God, or argue with His "wisdom" or His inaction.

Yes, I said INaction. I’ve been begging God for two years now to give me guidance, direction just some sort of freakin’ clue as to why I’m on this planet. And so far I’ve got jack.

So I followed a couple of my hearts desires — because the more I prayed, the stronger they got. I thought, "perhaps that’s the way God is answering my prayers." Others concurred that might be the case. Now I’m living back in the States, as I desired, living in Nashville, as I desired, and pursuing some sort of freelance-type work in the literary world — writer would be ideal, but in the immediate need I’ll take proofreading or typing or whatever I can find — or perhaps the music world.

Oh, and did I happen to mention that I have no permanent work to take care of my permanent needs. That the work I DO have doesn’t cover but about half my monthly expenses. That the professional I spoke of earlier works in the literary world and his email pretty much crushed my fragile dream-made-from-heart-desires of immediate work in the literary world — and did a powerful number on my ego as well. And all this crap could be avoided if God would just freakin’ ANSWER my pleas for PURPOSE.

So let’s recap, shall we? God sends me half-way across the world to a team so dysfunctional it can’t even stand, then takes my parents to heaven and promptly quits talking to me. Except to say, "I love you." and "I’m here." Well, woo-hoo! Great, tell me how Your love and presence is gonna pay my bills, or satisfy my burning ache for purpose and direction?!

Yeah, I’m mad. I’m so storming mad I can’t hardly see my fist in front of my face. I’ve been begging God for years, Larry, YEARS, for purpose. I just wanna know what the heck He created me for. That’s all. Nothing earth-shattering like why the dinosaurs died, or what black holes really are, or why zebras have stripes and leopards spots. I just want to know why HE created ME.

I’m done. I’m done asking. I’m done playing by His rules. I’m now up in His face demanding. And I don’t care anymore if He "smites" me for my insolence. I’d rather He take my life than live like this anymore.

That’s the short answer. The longer version would take another two-hour conversation, at the least.