From one of my favorite books, Notes From the Tilt-a-Whirl by N.D. Wilson:
Do you resent this world, this art? Do you hate Him for cancer, for car wrecks, and for the sudden shocking sleep of the young? Do you hate Him for those waves that break too high, for those hours when far more than six thousand die? Do you resent your story? Your height, your baldness, your itchy feet and unstable lower intestine, the forest fire sunsets and your own mortality?
Buy cream for your wrinkles. Whiten your teeth. Have doctors staple back your scalp until you die and decompose and only the staples remember you.
Go to Him or go to Hell.
Those are the only two choices, because Hell will be wherever He is not.