For a while, my question for God has essentially been, “Why won’t you give me what I want?” It sounds incredibly selfish and entitled. It is. But I have justified that question a million times by saying, But I am asking for good things – it’s not like I am trying to justify sin or selfishly get something that doesn’t actually matter. Mostly, I have felt that my deepest desires seem in line with what He calls us to do and be in this life, so why is the answer still no?

I had a bit of a breakthrough with this recently. I was reading in Hebrews 12, where the writer talks about God treating us like His children:

“Endure hardship as discipline; God is treating you as his children. If you are not disciplined…then you are not legitimate, not true sons and daughters at all.” (Hebrews 12:7-8)

It made me realize something when I thought about my own parenting and what we give our children. Basically, while it would, in theory, be fun to give our children everything they want, we know that is not what’s best for them. We know what people become when they get everything: entitled, ungrateful, spoiled, and pretty miserable, actually.

This fairly obvious parenting picture is giving me not only clarity but hope. Why don’t I give my child every single thing he asks for? Because I actually care about him. I care about him growing up knowing how to be grateful for what he does have. I care about his character development. I care that he learns that life isn’t all about him because that would set him up poorly for moving through the rest of his life. I want him to grow and be molded and to have dependence on God for what he needs.

When we start getting everything we want, we begin believing the lie that we are in control – that we are in fact the master of our fates. Fortunately, or unfortunately, suffering of any kind reminds us that we are not in control of almost anything – except how we respond. Elisabeth Elliot defines suffering as, “having what you don’t want or wanting what you don’t have.” Therefore, while getting everything we want would in theory keep us clear from suffering, it also makes us insufferable. I don’t want that for my child and I am now understanding that God doesn’t want that for me.

Ultimately, this makes me feel deeply loved. The kind of parent that is usually giving a child “everything they want” is usually an absent, disconnected, distracted one. Someone who is compensating for failing to love and care for their child in the ways they actually need. The fact that God has said “no” isn’t that He doesn’t love me, it is that He does. He is inviting me to trust Him, to lean into His love for me, to be shaped and molded by the “no’s” into a better, more compassionate, understanding, and gracious version of myself. While that might not sound as gratifying as getting what we want, we can objectively see how it is what we need (if we, in fact, see value in becoming a more holy, compassionate, Christ-like person, which greater culture does not…hence the struggle.).

You might be saying, “ok, but for me – it’s just this one thing. That’s all I am asking Him for and He says no.” To which I would kindly reply to you, I’ve been there too, and also – suuuuuure. Have you ever experienced a child who “only wanted one thing?” And once they got that one thing? In the days or weeks or months following, there is surely a new “one thing.” And while you may feel tired of me comparing you to a child by now, you have to admit we act like them often. I have been in the mindset of a grumpy two-year-old for a while I’d say – stomping my feet, not understanding why my Heavenly Father won’t just give me what I want! I throw fits with God in a really similar way to my two-year-old when we turn off the tv or tell him no. The difference? He’s actually two.

I think two sneaky lies can come into play here.

Lie number one: “He’s giving everyone else a yes.” We are not in their relationship. It is different, and also they are surely being handed their seasons of “no’s” as well. It could be that God is teaching us how to release bitterness and stop operating out of comparison (or is that just me, being eaten alive by it?). I can imagine lots of people would look at my life and only see the ways that God has said yes (and there are many!), but if you’ve been with me (or Marco Polo-ing with me), you know there’s some big disappointments mixed in.
This life cannot always be about what someone else received that we didn’t. We will be suffocated by the weight of it. A parent treats their children differently. It does not mean that they love one more than the other, it is that we are individuals who need different things at different times. Release the comparison. Do not let what God has allowed someone else to have determine how much you believe He loves you.

Lie number two: “He’s just waiting to give you something even better.” While there is truth to this from a greater, eternal perspective, it seems precarious to always assume a no from God means a bigger or different yes is coming. Anytime we try to put God into a formula or a predictable pattern sets us up for disappointment. It feels like a blurry version of what we have already been talking about. We can start to have unrealistic expectations of how God will work, when in reality He is God and He knows things we don’t. The no might be a no forever – can’t we think of people who lived their whole lives desiring something and never receiving it? God’s faithfulness to us isn’t dependent on what He gives us, it is that He has given us Himself. He has done more for us already than we ever deserved, and when we live in expectation that He will shower us with all the things we want, and the life that will make our dreams come true, we turn Him into a genie or a fairy godmother instead of who He actually is – the Creator, Redeemer, and Savior of the world.

Here’s another piece to all of this that feels really important, in this giant parenting metaphor. When I have to tell my son no, sometimes he accepts it graciously and moves on. But when he loses it and has big feelings, I don’t walk away. I get down on his level, wipe his tears, and hold him for however long he needs. I hear out his whimpery words and help explain if I can. God does all of that for us, too. I imagine my disappointments on this earth often could look as trivial to God as me turning off my son’s favorite “Spidey” show. But He doesn’t just say no, tell us to suck it up, and walk away. He is a loving Father. He holds us, gives us time and space to be sad or mad or confused. A loving Father gives good gifts. He says no, too, and is with us in that. That can be a gift in itself.