Skip to content Skip to footer
DAVE GIPSON
DAVE GIPSON
Close

When God Wants You Unhappy

I recently got a Facebook message from a well-meaning Christian friend:

“God has seen everything you’ve been going through, and He told me to tell you ‘IT’S OVER’! Your trial has ended, and now God’s about to open up the windows of heaven to bless you beyond your wildest dreams!!!!!”

(Full disclosure: I may have actually miscounted the number of exclamation points. My apologies).

Then they said if I didn’t forward this to three or more people, I really didn’t love God and enormous trials would come my way (but I thought God said my trials are over!’?).

I truly hate stuff like that – things that build up false hopes, and do so in God’s name. God doesn’t decree your trial is over just because I posted some message on your Facebook page. That’s not faith, it’s superstition.

Can you imagine me going to a prison and saying, “GOD SAYS YOUR TRIALS ARE OVER! YOU’RE ALL FREE!”? I can only imagine the blank stares I’d receive. Or even worse, if I said it to people with a child in the hospital fighting a terminal disease?

The hard news is there are times when it’s God’s will for us to be held in a trying situation. Passionless marriages, rebellious children, dead-end jobs, and even extended illnesses (sorry, faith-healing friends) are places where God sometimes chooses to deny our parole. And though it’s true God doesn’t want us to be happy when we are in rebellion against Him, there are times when we are walking with Him that we may remain stuck in tough circumstances.

Sometimes it’s not God’s perfect will to make you happy. Sometimes there’s something more miraculous going on…

You remember Joseph in the Old Testament? He’s the sibling who bragged to all his brothers God would make him ruler over them all. Though Joseph was gifted by God to interpret dreams, he lacked tact and wound up dumped in a well. A stream of crises led him to a prison, though he was innocent of any wrongdoing.

Like Joseph, you need to understand one reason you may be stuck in some personal “prison” is God Himself is holding you there. I know we can’t imagine God doing that, but He really does have His reasons.

I remember one lady I was counseling with marriage problems. She told me God told her to get a divorce, even though it was clear the marriage could be saved. How did she know God was OK with it? Because “God wouldn’t want me to be unhappy, would He?”

But contrary to popular belief, God is not that interested in just you being happy.

You might want to read that last line again. Let it sink in. Feel the warm fuzzies draining from your body. But it’s the truth, because God knows our “happiness” is often a flighty thing, based on fickle feelings. Instead of a temporal happiness, He want’s us to have a firm peace and confidence that comes from a relationship with Him.

As opposed to happiness, God is totally invested in making you complete, fulfilled, and mature (James 1:4). And quite often, He’ll accomplish that by leading you directly into an extended trial – a prison of circumstances. His goal is never to do you harm, but instead to produce the character traits you’re lacking.

I’ve felt trapped several times in my life, only to have God deny me any way of escape. I’ve held jobs where I was disrespected, spied on, and gossiped about even though I was doing a pretty good job. So I’d put out resumes. pray for God’s help, and wait for the offers to pour in…

But I got nothing. Crickets…no bites at all. Getting new opportunities had never been a problem for me before. What the heck was going on?

It was clear after a while God was the one shutting down every attempt I made to escape. I discovered God was often keeping me there to prepare for my future. During my personal prison, He developed abilities I’d never had before, and grew a resilience in me to face new challenges.

My prison was actually the key to a brighter future – it was truly the doorway to my destiny.

Joseph learned a great deal in his prison. He learned wisdom and maturity to go with his spiritual gifts. He learned to recognize the suffering of other inmates. And his prison actually put him in the perfect position to minister to Pharaoh when his dreams needed interpreting. All the negative experiences were indispensable steps toward his destiny, which ended up blessing not only him but his own people as well.

Maybe that’s why God has you trapped somewhere, in some miserable situation. He is growing you, streeeeeeeetching you, maturing you. He may also be using you to help someone else trapped there. But He promises that, in the end, it will all be worth it.

Right now, you need to rest in the fact that when the time is right, a higher authority will turn the key Himself. He and He alone knows when you’re ready to be free. He is watching your progress, rooting for you, encouraging you not to give up. He will most surely give you your freedom, but not until you’re ready.

So stop trying to pick the lock.

Stop whining about how long it’s taking, because that may only make the wait even longer. Stop trying to dig a tunnel out of your cell with a spoon: you’ll only frustrate yourself. Stop fighting, and embrace what God wants you to learn and who He wants you to help there in that cell next to yours.

Then suddenly, when you least expect it, the door will swing wide open and you’ll step into your destiny. And the man or woman who walks out of that cell will be 100 times better, because they were willing to let God take His time while they were “doing time” in their own personal prison.

The post is part of Dave’s recent book THE SEVEN SURPRISES, available now at Amazon.

Tags:

3 Comments

  • carrie
    Posted December 30, 2015 at 6:44 pm

    i had a similar experience where the new “leadership” in my department had actually no expertise or leadership abilities whatsoever. Had no understanding of development, no understanding of the law related to children with disabilities. I couldn’t understand why someone dumb as a rock was promoted into one of the most important positions of all, but hey? poop floats. i don’t know if i can buy into God “choosing” to leave me in a difficult situation, where at least once daily, i had to intervene with the “business manager” to provide disabled kids with what they needed and were legally entitled to. I was never able to make her provide preschoolers with bus services, and for that I am I am eternally sorrowful. I figure you can pay for preschool or prison.. I learned how to have mini-strokes, how to experience a level of stress i’d never known before, and to become incensed with a level of anger i was not sure how to manage. And i know that all of this in total, negatively affected my brain, and my intellectual abilities. Fortunately, i have some cognitive reserve by which to play from. When i decided that I could no longer manage the insanity, i made the leap to apply at a number of other employers.. And everyone I applied to, offered me a position as i am well regarded here. I did take the best paying position, so there is that.. but there were profoundly difficult trade-offs. I gave up old fashioned tenure, and now at the end of the year i have to wonder should i be looking for a new position? I can no longer stroll through my many children’s classrooms, chat with their teachers at lunch, or go on field trips with them or visit parties during the work day.. Now my own disabled children are being treated in the same callous and ignorant way as those I previously advocated for, so perhaps that is the purpose of all of this? I just don’t know, and if I go toe to toe with these nutjobs.. what is the personal cost to me, and those educators i still hold in high esteem? I do intend to create change in a system that has been run off in a ditch by those who care little for children.. but do i believe that God cries when we cry? yes. And that God has decided man should have free choice, to make or destroy? Yes.. And that many of our own catastrophes are created by ourselves? yes most certainly.. i may be too close to draw any conclusions at this point, but it is still a question for me..

    0Likes Reply
    • Post Author
      davegipson@hotmail.com
      Posted December 31, 2015 at 2:43 pm

      Carrie,

      A couple of thoughts…

      First, we only see the purpose in some of the trials when we get to a spiritual “summit” – a moment of perspective. This is when we are able to look back into a negative situation and recognize something very important God was doing through it. But until that specific time, everything may look like a big mess. Realize that true perspective may not become evident until that moment. Until then, you have to move forward while trusting that God has a purpose. Because He ALWAYS has a purpose.

      In light of that, your last statement may have been the most insightful…”I may be too close to draw any conclusions”. Exactly, you may just be 2 verses into a 4 verse hymn. You’re only 60 minutes into a 2-hour movie. When your “in the middle”, you wait, you pray, you trust, you keep putting one foot in front of the other. And you get up and take a shower when there seems no point to it all. ;0)

      Second, you seem to be ignoring the good you actually did accomplish. Sure, you didn’t make your enemies bow at your feet while proclaiming, “You’re so right and we were so wrong”. And there were things that should have changed that didn’t But we’re rarely going to get that obvious and complete a victory. The point is that in the midst of the battle, you did some good. Maybe not all the good you wanted, but still some. You made the world a little better for some of the kids. And that’s better than what they would have had if you hadn’t have tried.

      Finally, God’s purpose may not have been in what you’ve accomplished, but in what you’re becoming. Sometimes I’ll go through a trying situation and feel like I’ve completely lost. And by the ledger the world keeps, I probably did.

      However, after that trial has passed, I will notice little by little that along the way God was changing me. The trial transformed me substantially in some significant way. Maybe I’m wiser now because of it, and God is going to use that wisdom in a situation on down the road. Or maybe I am more patient now.

      In the worst case scenarios, maybe in my suffering I have been honored to share in the sufferings of Christ and thereby come to know Him in a deeper way. As Paul said, “that I may know Him and the power of His resurrection and the fellowship of His sufferings, being made conformable unto His death…” (Phil. 3:10) This may be my favorite verse now. It says there is a communion I have with Him as I struggle for an impossibly idealist goal, as I charge at another windmill, and by all appearances do not succeed.

      It in those moments where we gaze into His eyes and know that He has felt the exact same pain of the noble struggle. He knows what suffering feels like. Our eyes meet in that moment of pain, and I know I have one more thing in common with my beautiful Savior and friend. And in the process, I have become more conformed to His image.

      That, if nothing else, is worth any struggle!

      God bless you as you struggle on,
      Dave

      0Likes Reply
  • marlane mazur
    Posted April 3, 2016 at 1:58 pm

    Happy Sunday! what a super post! I so much needed to read this!
    I can relate because I believe I have a ‘thorn in my side! I am going to be 70 & I still whine, murmur & complain whenever He tells me: ‘Wait’. I really dislike that word, and I know that until I get victory in this I will be doing just that, even tho I remind Him, that I know it’s in His time but, I’m not getting any younger! I am believing for more writing success as never before & 2 months ago, had to give up my job for health reasons & I also believe He uses the unpleasant at times, if He can’t slow us down. I’ve been stuck at home since Christmas & my sick time has run out. During this time I wrote a book, 101 Blessings, you may have seen me chatting about it on Jeff Goin’s sites, but guess what? I am ‘waiting’, but not complaining or panicking…For once! That’s more than a blessing, that’s a miracle because I’m a ‘Plan B’ person & always have been, yes, even with the Lord. This time when I prayed about my book, I asked Him to help me be a straight ‘A’ student. LOL! I did, you can ask Him. I hope that made Him smile, at least it’s a step. Thank you for sharing this post! It’s real, in my spirit, I know it. We aren’t promised a rose petalled pathway where we skip along singing “Don’t worry, be Happy”. This isn’t a Disney movie where everything ends happily ever after because there is ‘no ever after. With the Lord, working in us, we will have that reward…I’ll work….And I know I’ll worry sometimes, it creeps in..but I am ‘Happy’ & in this part, I will: Wait’, for the ever after. Thanks again. Blessings, Marlane

    0Likes Reply

Leave a comment

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

You May Also Like

Blog
Broken
Blog
Divine mistakes
Copyright © 2024 by David Gipson. All rights reserved.

Our dream house was a 120-year old 3-story Victorian home. It was just a few blocks away from one of the loveliest parks in the city and the same distance from the church I pastored. I could literally walk to work, and did so on many mornings. How convenient!

Unlike the other brick houses that lined the streets nearby, this one was painted light yellow and stood apart from the rest. Plaster reliefs of baby angels wrapped around the base of the house. They represented the children of the original owners, making the structure even more unique. It also had a three-car garage at the back of it. Few houses in this older section of town had one as large, and many people resorted to parking on the street. But not us! On just an average salary, we had bought one of the nicest places to live in the area. 

I had always dreamed of owning a Victorian home. I had performed the role of Prof. Henry Higgins from the musical My Fair Lady right before we moved to our new city. So I was primed to live the life of the English gentleman, sipping tea in my beautiful old house. I loved the old wood, the stained glass windows, and our “penthouse suite” for my wife and me on the top floor. We’d be sequestered away from the noise of our little girls playing below us. It all seemed so ideal.

But it turned out to be anything but ideal. Our “Golden House”, as our little girls came to call it, was not so golden. In fact, our dream house almost killed us, quite literally. 

One afternoon I got a call at the church. It was Dawn, my wife, and she was sobbing hysterically. Finally I was able to make out enough of her words to understand what was happening.

“I fell…come home!”

Almost 20 years ago, my wife had been in a bad car accident that crushed her right leg. That ankle couldn’t turn at all. So as I ran the 5 blocks to my home, I knew what had happened.

When I got to the house, I found Dawn in the basement. She was headed to the washer and drier there, and had misjudged a step going down. She hit the concrete floor hard.

After getting her to the hospital, thankfully we learned nothing had been broken. However, that would be just the first of several falls for Dawn down those steps. We eventually moved the washer and drier up to the second floor, which helped a little. But the bottom line was a three-story house with narrow stairways were not meant for a woman who had challenges with mobility.

I also learned having your bedroom on the third-floor is not a good idea for a chubby guy in his mid-50s. There were a few days I wondered if I’d still be alive by the time I reached the top floor. Though I began on the stairway to the bedroom, I might end up on the stairway to heaven…

Then there was the city. Dawn and I always loved culture, restaurants, theater and all the things a great city has to offer. So living there, we felt like kids in a candy store. There was always some new restaurant to explore, always a show playing somewhere, and interesting people living all around us. It seemed ideal.

Except for crime. And taxes. Many cities are big on those, and ours was no exception. We had both in abundance.

One of our regular nightly diversions was watching the notifications on our community’s “Next Door App” alert us to all the recent shootings and hold-ups around us. One of us would hear gunshots, and I’d watch for the posts to pop up. I’d then calculate how close it was to our home. Many were within just a few blocks, some just down the street. 

We would occasionally get notices of some tax we hadn’t paid. Usually, we neglected to pay because the city had neglected to ever send a bill. Then one day, you get a notice you’re being sent to a collections agency, even though you still hadn’t received a bill yourself. 

Once we got a bill for trash pick-up. We were confused because we paid a refuse bill on time every month. But a lady on the phone informed us what we had paid was in fact only the garbage bill. There was completely different bill that was a tax for just having trash pick up available to us in the city. This bill was paying for the “possibility” our trash might be picked up. No kidding.

I’m sure they’re still probably working on a way to collect a tax on our taxes. 

All of this added together was a painful lesson on the difference between perception and reality. After we first moved to that city and were still living in an apartment, I walked down those very streets and fantasized about how wonderful living there would be. When we found the Golden House, we rejoiced and basically cried out, “Here, take our money” to the realtor. 

But the view from the outside of a situation is always much different from the inside. Nothing is ever quite what you expect…with houses, or with life.

The problem with so many of the things we want is it’s too often based on an illusion. We think a thing, a person, or a situation will bring happiness. But happiness is never found in those things outside of us.

Real happiness only happens from the inside out.

There’s an old fashioned Bible word for this foolishness: covetousness. The prohibition against coveting is actually the 10th and final commandment. It’s easily skimmed over in favor of the more R-rated commandments against murder or adultery. Simply wanting your neighbors stuff as opposed to stealing it or killing for it seems like no big deal in comparison.

But coveting is like a powerful drug. The addict never gets enough. Once he gets that one thing he’s obsessed over, he’s disappointed to realize it doesn’t fulfill his needs and he moves on to something more. The new car he’d wanted all his life now sits in the garage most days. She can’t even remember why she bought that purse now. That’s how coveting works: whatever you get, it’s never enough. You’re always left wanting something else, and even more addicted to your desires.

Whatever my eyes desired I did not keep from them. I did not withhold my heart from any pleasure, for my heart rejoiced in all my labor; And this was my reward from all my labor. Then I looked on all the works that my hands had done and on the labor in which I had toiled; And indeed all was vanity and grasping for the wind. There was no profit under the sun. - Ecclesiastes 2:10-11

Take care, and be on your guard against all covetousness, for one's life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions. - Luke 12:15

There was nothing wrong with us wanting a house. But it was very wrong of me to think that it would bring us so much happiness on its own. The ideal life and fulfillment I was expecting from a house was unreasonable. 

That kind of happiness only comes from God’s address, not mine.

Inevitably, we become like kids on the day after Christmas. We’ve opened every package, played with every toy, and we’re already bored with them. The newness wore off in a day, all because we were expecting too much from them to begin with.

Most homes stop being dream houses the minute we walk into them. Reality inevitably sets in, and the “house porn” on the realtor’s website is now just a bunch of plaster and dry wall. 

We finally made it out of our dream house before it killed us. No, we didn't run screaming from it in the middle of the night like in the Shining or the Amityville Horror. When we left, it did take quite a bite out of our finances, and we had to sell for quite a bit less than we'd paid. But the wound was worth it for the lesson we learned.

We’re in a new place now, in a much smaller city. We’re renting a little one-story house we’re hoping to buy soon. We're in a little neighborhood where we hardly ever lock our front door. It's pretty boring compared to city life, but that’s just fine with me.

I’ve discovered what really makes a “dream house”. The dream is not the house, it’s the people you put in it. Regardless of the size or location, those people are what makes life worthwhile. 

Everything else is just a dream. And all that glitters is not a golden house.

Our dream house was a 120-year old 3-story Victorian home. It was just a few blocks away from one of the loveliest parks in the city and the same distance from the church I pastored. I could literally walk to work, and did so on many mornings. How convenient!

Unlike the other brick houses that lined the streets nearby, this one was painted light yellow and stood apart from the rest. Plaster reliefs of baby angels wrapped around the base of the house. They represented the children of the original owners, making the structure even more unique. It also had a three-car garage at the back of it. Few houses in this older section of town had one as large, and many people resorted to parking on the street. But not us! On just an average salary, we had bought one of the nicest places to live in the area. 

I had always dreamed of owning a Victorian home. I had performed the role of Prof. Henry Higgins from the musical My Fair Lady right before we moved to our new city. So I was primed to live the life of the English gentleman, sipping tea in my beautiful old house. I loved the old wood, the stained glass windows, and our “penthouse suite” for my wife and me on the top floor. We’d be sequestered away from the noise of our little girls playing below us. It all seemed so ideal.

But it turned out to be anything but ideal. Our “Golden House”, as our little girls came to call it, was not so golden. In fact, our dream house almost killed us, quite literally. 

One afternoon I got a call at the church. It was Dawn, my wife, and she was sobbing hysterically. Finally I was able to make out enough of her words to understand what was happening.

“I fell…come home!”

Almost 20 years ago, my wife had been in a bad car accident that crushed her right leg. That ankle couldn’t turn at all. So as I ran the 5 blocks to my home, I knew what had happened.

When I got to the house, I found Dawn in the basement. She was headed to the washer and drier there, and had misjudged a step going down. She hit the concrete floor hard.

After getting her to the hospital, thankfully we learned nothing had been broken. However, that would be just the first of several falls for Dawn down those steps. We eventually moved the washer and drier up to the second floor, which helped a little. But the bottom line was a three-story house with narrow stairways were not meant for a woman who had challenges with mobility.

I also learned having your bedroom on the third-floor is not a good idea for a chubby guy in his mid-50s. There were a few days I wondered if I’d still be alive by the time I reached the top floor. Though I began on the stairway to the bedroom, I might end up on the stairway to heaven…

Then there was the city. Dawn and I always loved culture, restaurants, theater and all the things a great city has to offer. So living there, we felt like kids in a candy store. There was always some new restaurant to explore, always a show playing somewhere, and interesting people living all around us. It seemed ideal.

Except for crime. And taxes. Many cities are big on those, and ours was no exception. We had both in abundance.

One of our regular nightly diversions was watching the notifications on our community’s “Next Door App” alert us to all the recent shootings and hold-ups around us. One of us would hear gunshots, and I’d watch for the posts to pop up. I’d then calculate how close it was to our home. Many were within just a few blocks, some just down the street. 

We would occasionally get notices of some tax we hadn’t paid. Usually, we neglected to pay because the city had neglected to ever send a bill. Then one day, you get a notice you’re being sent to a collections agency, even though you still hadn’t received a bill yourself. 

Once we got a bill for trash pick-up. We were confused because we paid a refuse bill on time every month. But a lady on the phone informed us what we had paid was in fact only the garbage bill. There was completely different bill that was a tax for just having trash pick up available to us in the city. This bill was paying for the “possibility” our trash might be picked up. No kidding.

I’m sure they’re still probably working on a way to collect a tax on our taxes. 

All of this added together was a painful lesson on the difference between perception and reality. After we first moved to that city and were still living in an apartment, I walked down those very streets and fantasized about how wonderful living there would be. When we found the Golden House, we rejoiced and basically cried out, “Here, take our money” to the realtor. 

But the view from the outside of a situation is always much different from the inside. Nothing is ever quite what you expect…with houses, or with life.

The problem with so many of the things we want is it’s too often based on an illusion. We think a thing, a person, or a situation will bring happiness. But happiness is never found in those things outside of us.

Real happiness only happens from the inside out.

There’s an old fashioned Bible word for this foolishness: covetousness. The prohibition against coveting is actually the 10th and final commandment. It’s easily skimmed over in favor of the more R-rated commandments against murder or adultery. Simply wanting your neighbors stuff as opposed to stealing it or killing for it seems like no big deal in comparison.

But coveting is like a powerful drug. The addict never gets enough. Once he gets that one thing he’s obsessed over, he’s disappointed to realize it doesn’t fulfill his needs and he moves on to something more. The new car he’d wanted all his life now sits in the garage most days. She can’t even remember why she bought that purse now. That’s how coveting works: whatever you get, it’s never enough. You’re always left wanting something else, and even more addicted to your desires.

Whatever my eyes desired I did not keep from them. I did not withhold my heart from any pleasure, for my heart rejoiced in all my labor; And this was my reward from all my labor. Then I looked on all the works that my hands had done and on the labor in which I had toiled; And indeed all was vanity and grasping for the wind. There was no profit under the sun. - Ecclesiastes 2:10-11

Take care, and be on your guard against all covetousness, for one's life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions. - Luke 12:15

There was nothing wrong with us wanting a house. But it was very wrong of me to think that it would bring us so much happiness on its own. The ideal life and fulfillment I was expecting from a house was unreasonable. 

That kind of happiness only comes from God’s address, not mine.

Inevitably, we become like kids on the day after Christmas. We’ve opened every package, played with every toy, and we’re already bored with them. The newness wore off in a day, all because we were expecting too much from them to begin with.

Most homes stop being dream houses the minute we walk into them. Reality inevitably sets in, and the “house porn” on the realtor’s website is now just a bunch of plaster and dry wall. 

We finally made it out of our dream house before it killed us. No, we didn't run screaming from it in the middle of the night like in the Shining or the Amityville Horror. When we left, it did take quite a bite out of our finances, and we had to sell for quite a bit less than we'd paid. But the wound was worth it for the lesson we learned.

We’re in a new place now, in a much smaller city. We’re renting a little one-story house we’re hoping to buy soon. We're in a little neighborhood where we hardly ever lock our front door. It's pretty boring compared to city life, but that’s just fine with me.

I’ve discovered what really makes a “dream house”. The dream is not the house, it’s the people you put in it. Regardless of the size or location, those people are what makes life worthwhile. 

Everything else is just a dream. And all that glitters is not a golden house.