I was angry at God for the longest time.

When you have your older brother who is always bigger and better. When people sit on you because they don't take the time to notice you're there. When you're just ignored for no reason. When your father forgets your name. It makes you wonder, you know, are you really worth anything? Does anyone even care? If there is a God, why does he leave me so friendless? Was I just not enough?

My whole youth group wanted to go on a mission trip. Spread the Word of God and such. Did I really want to be doing that? Not really, but I'm a pushover. So I pitched in and helped raise the money, helped even when no one else was there at the fundraisers. And we raised enough money for the whole group to go, plus six adult leaders. Even my lazy and idiotic brother was able to get in for free, and he didn't help out with anything. Sure, I sound like I'm whining right now. But this is how I want to tell my story.

I got there and we had hour long devotions in the beginning of the day. Reading the Bible and stuff. But I was still so angry. Even though I believed in God, I didn't want to hear anything more. My life was so screwed up; thanks God for saving me from the future hell, but I would have much rather be out of this one.

Nothing I ever did was enough for anyone.

After devotions we would go to a work site and work on building a house; there I threw myself into the work. Manual labor gave me almost what I could call a respect for myself. I was strong enough to carry pieces of drywall to wherever it needed to go; smart enough to remember the measurements to measure it out; calm enough to cut it with a straight and steady hand; ready to take on any challenge; and willing to get the work done. Maybe I wasn't enough for anyone else, but I was accepting that I am capable of doing great things. But was I enough for God though? Who is ever enough?

Or so I thought.

At the end of every day we would get together and talk about how we could do things better, but also how we could grow in our faith. At the end of every night we would give out beads and say things to encourage people in their faith and in their hard work. In the beginning I tuned everything everyone said out. No one gave me a bead, even though I gave out my required one bead faithfully. But mid-week on Wednesday, my idiot of a brother Alfred turned to me with a red bead, my favorite color.

"Mattie, I want you to have this bead because you work so hard all the time. And no one's seen it." He had seemed to hesitate for a second. "You seem so...yeah." I looked away from his infamous puppy dog eyes that were filled with confusion and curiosity, and accepted the bead. Alfred went through an almost instant transformation when he got here; all on fire for Jesus. There's nothing wrong with that. But at the time I resented him. To have him give me a bead, it startled me out of my moody thoughts.

That night after group time, I couldn't sleep. I decided to try to go outside, clear my head. I had just opened the door and stepped out when I heard it loudly open again. I rolled my eyes, surprised though that Alfred was up.

"What do you want?" He looked caught off guard and the brusqueness in my tone.

"I'm worried about you. You work so hard everyday, but you don't talk to anyone in the group inside or outside of group time."

"So you're worried about how often I participate?" A note of challenge was in my voice.

"No. I don't want to see my baby brother be sad." His puppy eyes again. Ugh.

"Alfred," my voice was tired. "Do you think God even cares about me?" The shock on his expression was intense.

"Of course he does Mattie!"

"Well then why doesn't anybody care about me? Why doesn't anyone talk to me? What is my purpose?" To my intense mortification at the time, I burst into tears. Alfred of course, hugged me. It was the first hug I'd had in a while; my father has more important things to do (like screw around) than hug his only son.

"You know Mattie, I can't answer for why other people don't seem to look like they care. But I know that most of my dates have had some girl lined up for you." He had said after letting me cry for a bit. I gave a short bark of laughter and was about to protest when he finished. "No, I'm dead serious. But Matt, God doesn't give us anymore than we can handle. He's saying you're strong enough to deal with all the pain of loneliness. But he also wants you to know that you do have people that care for you. They just suck at showing it." I raised my eyebrows up on my tear-stained face.

"Nice one hero. I feel better all ready. Let me know how that line works on someone else who's life isn't as screwed up as mine." With that biting retort, I pivoted around and went back to bed. Of course I still couldn't sleep, but I made myself get up the next day to work on the house.

Throughout the rest of the week though, I couldn't help but remember the words he said. You're strong enough. To have the same God that created the universe just by willing things to be thought I was strong. As cheesy as it sounded out loud or written down, it gave me a sense of awe in my head.

Talking to Alfred, because I knew I had to apologize, he told me how to do it; how to be strong enough. I just don't rely on my own strength. I rely on his instead.

I was angry at God for the longest time. Maybe you are too. But you are strong enough to take on the problems you are facing, because God says you are. If you lean on Him, He will help you.