God’s Fight Club

A corded mic lowers slowly into the middle of the ring. The booming announcer's voice echos throughout the dark and crowded stadium. "In this corner… Weighing in at 245 pounds… Standing tall at 6 feet 2 inches… Keith 'The Shaman' Parker!! And in the other corner… A competitor whose stats are immeasurable, Inconceivable… The Creator of the universe and undefeated champion… God!!"

That's how my morning felt on December 9th, 2020.

Have you ever been so angry at God that you would take a swing at Him if he physically showed up in front of you? I'm not ashamed to admit I have. Frankly, God gets on my damn nerves a lot. Him and His divine plan for my life – I can't see it, and I apparently have little control over it. 

In my marriage, I made "all the right choices." I was a good husband and an even better father. I was caring and affectionate. I never once cheated on her, abused her, lied to her – okay, I lied about smoking – and yet, here I was. Single – again – with two boys to raise and a failed marriage under my belt. All at the ripe age of 31. Of course, I was angry with God. I had every reason to be. I wanted to throw my gloves on and get in my shots. 

"But Parker, Just turn to God!" 

Ugh, I heard this phrase over and over again. "Simply turn toward God," "He will take care it," "He will provide a way," "He will," "He will," "He will." – Whatever –. Here's the thing, I kept asking Him for all of that, and He kept His omnipotent mouth shut. Honestly, I was sick and fucking tired of hearing people tell me God would fix this unholy mess that was my life. 

On that cool December morning, I reached one of my lowest points. It felt like I had a blanket of sadness wrapped around me. The failure, shame, despair, and confusion were starting to strangle me. I was lost. I knew I had a future, that there was hope in all of this mess, but the shock of the divorce kept me paralyzed. I needed help. I texted my friend Steven and poured my heart out. – he had just gone through a divorce the year before, and I knew he knew what I was feeling. I told him in gory detail about all the confusion, the pain, and the hurt. How I wanted to cry but didn't have any tears left. "I gave her everything, man; all I can do right now is exist." And maybe worst of all, I was stone-cold sober. 

Steven told me how proud he was of me. For being brave and allowing myself to feel it all. That I didn't deserve any of this, but sometimes, God has to prune some branches for us to grow some fruit. He said, "I'd love to tell you a break in the pain will come soon, but it might not for a while. Just lean on the people who care for you and allow yourself to be carried. You don't have to be Superman alone; you have a whole damn Justice League around you". He wanted me to research the stages of grief and figure out which stage I was in. To be okay with just existing and be a couch potato for a little bit, get high, watch TV and just heal. But ironically enough, Parkers don't sit and heal naturally. We fight, and we are really good at fighting. 

I wanted to give this "healing" and "talking to God thing" one more try. I got down on my knees – in tears – and I prayed. I prayed for just about everything. Strength, patience, courage, for God to take the pain away, to make sure my boys wouldn't hurt during this divorce, but what I really wanted was hope. I needed something to tell me this would all be okay – and wouldn't ya know it – NOTHING HAPPENED. Not a single fucking word from the Big Man. No fuzzy feelings, no signs of brighter days, and no hope. I was angry. The God who is never supposed to leave my side was silent. He picked today of all days to shut His divine mouth! I was madder than a mosquito in a mannequin factory. 

"Fuck it, he doesn't want to come to me, then I'll go to Him."

I drove out to the base of the highest peak in my area. Pinnacle Mountain, or "Penny," as Steven and me like to call her. Full of piss, vinegar, and THC – I was going to climb this mountain and talk to God whether He wanted to speak with me or not. Moving at a record pace, climbing rock after rock, and cursing the whole way up. Drenched in sweat and edibles coursing through me, I finally made it to the top – exhausted. 

"This is that movie moment where – despite adversity – God shows himself in the last minute." 

This is what I thought anyway – I sat at the top of Pinnacle in stillness. The only movement was my chest heaving, trying to control my breath and the wind hitting my skin. This was it – movie magic – It was the perfect scenario for God to show up and fix all my problems. But He didn't. 

This was the lesson all along. I have had plenty of moments in my life where I felt God's presence, felt He was protecting and guiding me, but I was blinded by misconstrued anger. I thought God had abandoned me – He didn't abandon me – He just wasn't going to answer the questions I already had answers to. I knew how to get through my valley. I knew how to improve myself and *be the best man and father I could be – I just didn't want to wait. I wanted it to be fixed now, and I was impatient. God already gave me a blueprint of what I should do, and he gave me a friend who had already been where I was. He gave me people to support me and two amazing boys to love me. God kept his mouth shut so I could put my training into action. 

If you fight God, you will lose – plain and simple – but He can take it. He knows He will win, and He is a big enough God to let us be angry with him. To allow us to lash out, cuss, and wish we could throw physical punches at Him. He is not manipulative or petty; he is confident and gracious. 

Woody Allen said, "If you want to make God laugh, tell Him your plans." 

This doesn't make him maniacal; it makes Him a father. If you have kids, I am sure you've seen how they truly believe they have it all figured out. But all any parent can do is think it's cute, let them learn from their mistakes, and teach them how to suffer well.