Upon reading the story of Hannah in the book of 1 Samuel, I was struck by this three-word phrase: “In due time” (1 Sam. 1:20 ESV). This promise comes after a long period of waiting and crying out for God to give her a child; just when she thought God had forgotten her, He did give her a son. Not in her time though–in His time. In due time.

There is an “in due time” we don’t think about so often. In due time, the gray-brown branches of trees, wet with sleet, find themselves growing luxurious green leaves and fruit. In due time the sun rises and sets. These things and everything else are governed by the Maker of the universe. As Christians, it’s easy to trust that God’s timing is how it should be regarding these things because His wisdom in them has been proven time and time again. We want His order. We are happy to let Him govern the lilies and the sparrow, with the knowledge that He is God, and that we are not.

That is, until His order isn’t what we wanted. Then another three-word phrase takes over, and it’s a villainous beast: “Why not me?” She has a boyfriend—why not me? He got a scholarship—why not me? She got the job—why not me? Those three words are the acid reflux of the soul. It’s Satan himself poking you with a stick, making you question whether God really does care, and if He really knows what’ll best make you happy.

It is this posture that makes us think that we can fight God and win. We scream into our pillows until the veins in our necks stick out and our faces are red and we are gasping for air like a child that’s thrown a tantrum. This anger consumes any shred of contentment we have, and it destroys the restfulness we are commanded to have in Christ.

We don’t hear a ton about Hannah in the Bible, but I’ll bet that she knew exactly what this experience felt like. She wept. She surely had her fist-shaking moments, raging at God for withholding the one thing she thought she needed to be complete. She knew the discontentment that runs infinitely deeper than wanting a new car or iPhone. It was buried deep in her heart, so much so that her husband thought she was drunk (1:13 ESV). She hadn’t been drinking at all, she explains. She had been pouring her soul out to the LORD (1:15 ESV).

Job also knew. He lost everything dear to him, and experienced some very real, warranted rage. Job lists every reason why he is so miserable, and we really can’t blame him. Chapter 19, however, takes a surprising turn. After listing the numerous trials God has providentially allowed to come upon Him, Job utters these profound, and rather jarring words: “For I know that my Redeemer lives, and at the last He will stand upon the earth. And after my skin has been thus destroyed, yet in my flesh I shall see God” (19:25-26 ESV).

Job, Hannah, and many others in the Scriptures knew what it was like to not understand the timing of God. But even in their lack of understanding, their angst, and their fear, they cried out to God, pouring out their souls to Him. Admittedly, I rarely pour my soul out to the LORD. And then if things turn out the way I want them to, I thank God (if I remember). But I rarely ever thank God when He has answered my prayer with a “no,” or a “not yet.” Job and Hannah are excellent examples of what we should do in those moments—but even more so, there is One who cried out to God without sin.

In the Garden of Gethsemane, our Savior prayed to His heavenly Father, “‘if You are willing, remove this cup from me. Nevertheless, not my will, but Yours, be done’” (Luke 22:42 ESV).

I am convinced that “thy will be done” is the hardest prayer to pray sincerely. It forces us to give up our fears, doubts, hesitations, and control to the God of the universe—the one who makes the trees bloom, makes the sun rise and set, and cares for the sparrow and lily.

Logic indicates that this should be simple. Our heads say that God is the Ruler of all, and that He knows exactly what we need. Evidence dictates that ceasing our foppish attempts at control is the best solution to this jaw-clenching anxiety we all face. So what do we do? We hold on to the jaw-clenching anxiety, and allow our bitterness and frustration turn our genuine prayers of petition into prayers of “why not me?”

But even so—He hears those ugly prayers, too.

He hears our desperate, gasping cries. He hears our envious sneers. He hears all. And still, He sent his only begotten Son to die on our behalf, the Son who was tempted to question the providence of God, and yet trusted His heavenly Father perfectly in all things. He obeyed even when it meant being hung on a cross.

Submitting to the will of God is no easy feat. Our sinful natures make us want to hold onto those unpleasant emotions because, often, they seem like the only thing we have any say over. But the truth is that doing so will shrivel us like slugs under salt, putting a damper on the joy of Jesus that should be at the forefront of who we are and how we live.

In the midst of her struggles, the LORD remembered Hannah (1 Sam. 1:19). God never forgets us in our sadness and anger, and Jesus Himself knew these feelings just as well. In due time, all will be made well, and He will return again. But in the meantime, he cares for the lily of the valley, and for the sparrows in the air. And take heart! After all, are we not worth more than many sparrows (Matt 10:31 ESV)?