Sorry about the cheesy title, but my new sweetie and I watched an Invasion of the Body Snatchers-type movie the other night where someone said that line, and as it kind of pertains to the subject matter of this post, I couldn't resist. :)
Last night, this same sweetie and I were talking, and he told me that if it weren't for some of the "shynesses" that I have about certain subject matters (primarily sex), he would never know that I was once an uber-conservative Christian. I haven't been able to stop thinking about it, and I'm not sure how I feel about his words, whether they bother me or not. On the one hand I think it's great. I'm glad he doesn't see in me the narrow-minded perspectives and judgmental thinking that characterize most conservatives. But it also bothers me because Christ followers are supposed to be different. Jesus was loved by the sinners of the world, but it wasn't because He looked so much like them that He blended right in. It makes me ask myself if I "blend in" too much. It also raises some much more universal questions, though, about what it looks like to be a Christ follower in our world today. What are the marks of a Christ follower?
The more I think on the subject, the more I feel that our beliefs about what marks will characterize a Christ follower are in need of change. Both the church and the secular world have embraced a fairly similar list: no smoking, drinking or swearing; no pre- or extra-marital sex; general honesty (i.e. no stealing, lying or cheating); attending church regularly. Both sides could add a few more items to the list to define it more fully according to their individual ideas, but I think this is a fairly good core of characteristics that most of us expect from "religious" people or "Christians." If you take a closer look at the list, however, I think you might agree with me that it's a pretty worthless list to use when determining whether someone is a Christ follower or not. Most of the stuff that appears on this list of defining characteristics can be managed with little or no help from God. In fact, these characteristics have been hallmarks of numerous individuals throughout history who have been no more Christ-like than the devil himself. Case in point: the Pharisees. You couldn't find a more moral, upstanding bunch, but Jesus called them white washed tombs full of corruption.
So if the characteristics we generally use to define Christ followers aren't really giving us an accurate representation of what being like Jesus is all about, what does it look like? I think it comes back to the heart. The marks of a Christ follower have less to do with adhering to a strict moral code (Wait! Don't freak out on me yet!) and more to do with where our hearts are in relation to God and our fellow man. If I were to redefine what a Christ follower should look like, I'd start with the oft-listed and seldom-considered "fruit of the Spirit": love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. Then I'd build from there. In addition to being loving and kind, a Christ follower should be compassionate, merciful, devoted to bringing justice to the oppressed and healing to the broken and wounded. A Christ follower should be a lover of the truth who doesn't fear to look new ideas in the face and sift them to find any kernels of truth they might contain. A Christ follower should be marked by practical humanitarianism, by selflessness, by generosity, by respect for appointed authorities, by the forgiveness they offer to those who wrong them. And yes, a Christ follower should strive to adhere to the moral code set forth in the Bible.
Notice the things on my list. They aren't things we humans can do without help from someone bigger and stronger. They are internal characteristics that show themselves in outward behaviors, not outward behaviors (like the ones in the list that currently defines Christ followers) that may or may not be a reflection of what is really going on in the heart.
So do I bear the marks of a true Christ follower? I don't know. I think I am beginning to bear some of them, though in their infant stages. I think some of them are still being formed in me, while others I am still wrestling with in myself. And perhaps I should go back and ask my sweetie if he sees any of those characteristics in me that actually count. I hope he does. I already know that in so many ways I'm not a good representative of the first list. I know that when it comes to certain issues I'm a terrible representative of Jesus, and this troubles me deeply and makes me ashamed to claim Him - not because I'm ashamed of Him but because I'm ashamed of myself and don't wish to make a mockery of Him. But I hope that in spite of my many flaws, some part of Him continues to live and grow inside me in ways that other people can see.
If you can see the marks of a Christ follower in me, I guess I can live without all the marks of a conservative Fundamentalist Christian. If you can look at me and see Jesus, I've become all that really matters to me, and that's enough.
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Coming into the Light
So often the tone of these posts is somewhat dark and negative. I suppose that's to be expected when you're dealing with subject matter like mine, so it's nice to be able to offer you all a "brighter skies" kind of post today.
I had the chance recently to look back over some magazine articles I wrote a couple of years ago. One in particular really drew me in because, in the first half at least, it was one of the most honest and transparent pieces I had ever written. Which is probably why it wasn't published! :) The second half of the piece was full of my "wishful thinking" bullshit, but the first part was very raw and real. Reading it was great because it reminded me of how far I've come and how much this difficult journey has given me.
The real guts of the piece had to do with how I felt invisible and uncelebrated, how I felt like I was in hiding deep inside where nobody - not even God - could see me. Well, okay... God could see, but I didn't really want to deal with that.
I remember having a mental picture some years ago of coming to stand before God, as the Fundies say. And I remember feeling in this picture as though God wanted to look at me, in me, through me, but I was terrified to let Him. I knew that He already knew and saw the dark places, the broken places, the deep neediness of my soul that I was horribly ashamed of, and on some level I was okay with the fact that He knew. What frightened me was not His knowing; it was the idea that I would have to experience the "knowing." I'm not sure if that makes sense, but there's a difference between knowing someone has read your diary and sitting down to read your diary to someone. I didn't want to experience His searching and knowing of me. Of course, I knew that He wouldn't hate or reject me because of what He saw, but I feared even His compassion and pity; I feared the shame I would feel to have Him see the broken, dirty person I knew I was. Strangely enough, I knew the thing I dreaded was also the thing I most needed. I just didn't know how to open myself up to it. So I remained a shriveled wretch, crouching on the floor before Him, shrinking away from the freedom of being known.
Oddly enough, as a good Fundy girl, I didn't have much real shit to hide from God. Up until the last year or so, my roster of "really bad sins" was empty. In retrospect, I think I was less ashamed of things I had done and more ashamed of myself - who I was. I guess what amazes me now is how that need to hide seems to have vanished as I've become a "real" sinner with some genuine shit on my roster. Somehow, some way, it's brought me to a place where I no longer feel ashamed of myself - what I've done, yes (well, sometimes) - but not who I am. I feel like I can come into the light and not pretend or hide or wish I were better and more worthy. Now I'm just me, and being just me with all my faults and foibles is enough.
I can't explain how what I've been through has changed this for me. You'd think it would have the opposite effect. I'm not sure, but as I'm talking about this I remember a night last fall when I was in some of the darkest moments I'd ever known. It would have been sometime in November, and I remember sitting on my bed and seeing this picture in my mind of me walking up to Jesus. I wanted to talk to Him, but I simply had no words. There was no way I could begin to express the depth of my pain and fear and loneliness. I was literally shattered, and I couldn't even come up with one word to communicate all that to Him, to ask for His help and forgiveness, to ask for His love. In that moment - and it wasn't something I imagined; it was real - He reached out and put His hands on each side of my face, cradling my cheeks between them, and He simply looked into my eyes. Neither one of us said anything because the emotions of the moment were too profound to be cheapened by words, but I remember Him looking into my eyes, and I remember the tears that slowly started to roll down both our cheeks. We didn't sob or wail; we just quietly cried. And His eyes told me that He loved me and accepted me and felt compassion for the pain I had made for myself.
At the time it seemed like a nice experience, and I didn't see it for the profundity of what it might have been. It didn't stand out as one of the great spiritual experiences of my life, and I've had a few I will never forget. It was just a simple moment that was over and done in a flash, but it was real. I wonder now if that moment was what He had wanted to share with me all along. If perhaps the searching I had always dreaded didn't have to be what I thought it would be and if perhaps He simply wanted me to let Him look in my eyes long enough to see that He knew, He understood, He loved.
Anyway, that was all pretty personal, but I was thinking on it today and realizing how freeing it is when you feel like you can come into the light and stop hiding what you are. And looking back on that unpublished article, I can say that I still feel some of the things I wrote about, but somehow it isn't so strong. So I guess I'm getting somewhere, huh?
I had the chance recently to look back over some magazine articles I wrote a couple of years ago. One in particular really drew me in because, in the first half at least, it was one of the most honest and transparent pieces I had ever written. Which is probably why it wasn't published! :) The second half of the piece was full of my "wishful thinking" bullshit, but the first part was very raw and real. Reading it was great because it reminded me of how far I've come and how much this difficult journey has given me.
The real guts of the piece had to do with how I felt invisible and uncelebrated, how I felt like I was in hiding deep inside where nobody - not even God - could see me. Well, okay... God could see, but I didn't really want to deal with that.
I remember having a mental picture some years ago of coming to stand before God, as the Fundies say. And I remember feeling in this picture as though God wanted to look at me, in me, through me, but I was terrified to let Him. I knew that He already knew and saw the dark places, the broken places, the deep neediness of my soul that I was horribly ashamed of, and on some level I was okay with the fact that He knew. What frightened me was not His knowing; it was the idea that I would have to experience the "knowing." I'm not sure if that makes sense, but there's a difference between knowing someone has read your diary and sitting down to read your diary to someone. I didn't want to experience His searching and knowing of me. Of course, I knew that He wouldn't hate or reject me because of what He saw, but I feared even His compassion and pity; I feared the shame I would feel to have Him see the broken, dirty person I knew I was. Strangely enough, I knew the thing I dreaded was also the thing I most needed. I just didn't know how to open myself up to it. So I remained a shriveled wretch, crouching on the floor before Him, shrinking away from the freedom of being known.
Oddly enough, as a good Fundy girl, I didn't have much real shit to hide from God. Up until the last year or so, my roster of "really bad sins" was empty. In retrospect, I think I was less ashamed of things I had done and more ashamed of myself - who I was. I guess what amazes me now is how that need to hide seems to have vanished as I've become a "real" sinner with some genuine shit on my roster. Somehow, some way, it's brought me to a place where I no longer feel ashamed of myself - what I've done, yes (well, sometimes) - but not who I am. I feel like I can come into the light and not pretend or hide or wish I were better and more worthy. Now I'm just me, and being just me with all my faults and foibles is enough.
I can't explain how what I've been through has changed this for me. You'd think it would have the opposite effect. I'm not sure, but as I'm talking about this I remember a night last fall when I was in some of the darkest moments I'd ever known. It would have been sometime in November, and I remember sitting on my bed and seeing this picture in my mind of me walking up to Jesus. I wanted to talk to Him, but I simply had no words. There was no way I could begin to express the depth of my pain and fear and loneliness. I was literally shattered, and I couldn't even come up with one word to communicate all that to Him, to ask for His help and forgiveness, to ask for His love. In that moment - and it wasn't something I imagined; it was real - He reached out and put His hands on each side of my face, cradling my cheeks between them, and He simply looked into my eyes. Neither one of us said anything because the emotions of the moment were too profound to be cheapened by words, but I remember Him looking into my eyes, and I remember the tears that slowly started to roll down both our cheeks. We didn't sob or wail; we just quietly cried. And His eyes told me that He loved me and accepted me and felt compassion for the pain I had made for myself.
At the time it seemed like a nice experience, and I didn't see it for the profundity of what it might have been. It didn't stand out as one of the great spiritual experiences of my life, and I've had a few I will never forget. It was just a simple moment that was over and done in a flash, but it was real. I wonder now if that moment was what He had wanted to share with me all along. If perhaps the searching I had always dreaded didn't have to be what I thought it would be and if perhaps He simply wanted me to let Him look in my eyes long enough to see that He knew, He understood, He loved.
Anyway, that was all pretty personal, but I was thinking on it today and realizing how freeing it is when you feel like you can come into the light and stop hiding what you are. And looking back on that unpublished article, I can say that I still feel some of the things I wrote about, but somehow it isn't so strong. So I guess I'm getting somewhere, huh?
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Toward Forgiveness
A while back I wrote a post regarding the struggle I was having to forgive some of the folks who have deeply wounded me in the past year. While the situation doesn't dominate my thoughts, it is a matter on ongoing prayer for me, mainly because even once a person has made the choice to forgive, the feelings of forgiveness do not always follow and the desire to "have the last word" or witness some type of "poetic justice" is a hard one to shake. I don't want to be that kind of person. I need forgiveness from God too much to go around withholding it from others, and I'm not keen on the idea of carting around those ugly, bitter feelings indefinitely. Despite my decision to let go of the past and forgive, though, I haven't figured out how to root those ugly feelings out.
Last night I made some progress toward my goal, however, and it came in the most unexpected of ways, proving that our Bible school jokes about God speaking through asses (e.g. Balaam's donkey) were more truth than fiction. I went to see Hamlet 2 with some friends of mine, and I must warn you that if you are sensitive to religious humor that is somewhat sacreligious, this isn't the film for you. It was funny as all hell, but it wasn't all that respectful. It inspired some pretty thought provoking things for me though. In the play that is performed in the film, Hamlet must come to a place where he forgives his father, inspired of course by a modernized "sexy Jesus." (Told you it wasn't respectful!) Something Jesus says to Hamlet really hit me between the eyes. He remarked that He understood how Hamlet felt about his father because Jesus' Father had forsaken Him too. The play ends with Hamlet forgiving his father and Jesus saying to His Father, "Father, I forgive you."
It's a pretty provoking thought when you consider it. Did Jesus have to forgive His Father for forsaking Him when He was on the cross? I'm not really sure. My well concealed conservative side would say no, and that side of me is probably right, but it's an intriguing idea. What must Jesus have felt when, as a perfectly innocent man, His Father abandoned Him at the darkest moment of His life? Did He understand? Despite that understanding, did He feel betrayed?
Thinking on these things opened up my old wounds. I don't want to dig into details, but in my situation the people I viewed as my mentors, friends and "spiritual parents" chose to handle a choice I made in a certain way. I've said more than once that it wasn't the decisions they made that caused the deep wounds; it was the feeling that I was abandoned in a time of need - in essence, betrayed. I trusted these people implicitly and absolutely, and I had always believed that if I made a big mistake they would be there for me. Of course, they would say that they were, but the truth is they were only willing to be there for me as long as I did things their way. They had mapped out the course they wanted me to take, and when I wasn't able or willing to deal with the issue that way, they cast me off like a piece of worthless shit. When I admitted that I was broken and couldn't emotionally handle the sermonizing, I was simply ignored.
It is that feeling of betrayal and abandonment that has been at the root of my struggle to experience the feelings of forgiveness, however committed I am to my choice to let it go. But what the "sexy Jesus" said really brought some things into perspective. I had never considered what He might have felt after being abandoned by His Father. Perhaps, like me, He could rationally look at the situation and say, "I understand and I'm not angry about the decision. He did what He had to do." But despite rational thought, perhaps there was some emotional, irrational corner of His heart that said, "Why? Why did you abandon me? Why did you walk away when I needed you? Why weren't you willing to fight for me?" He probably didn't. Jesus' understanding is so far beyond my limited understanding that I'm sure He didn't need to "forgive" His Father for forsaking Him, but just knowing that He had been forsaken by His Father opened something deep up in me and started to release some things.
Just like Jesus, I was forsaken by my "spiritual" father and mother. He was forsaken because of the sins of others; I was forsaken for my own sins. But He understands that. He knows what it feels like, and just knowing that He gets that makes me feel a bit less bitter and veangeful. It's not a cure all yet. There's still some sour spots in my heart, but I'm moving closer to forgiveness.
Last night I made some progress toward my goal, however, and it came in the most unexpected of ways, proving that our Bible school jokes about God speaking through asses (e.g. Balaam's donkey) were more truth than fiction. I went to see Hamlet 2 with some friends of mine, and I must warn you that if you are sensitive to religious humor that is somewhat sacreligious, this isn't the film for you. It was funny as all hell, but it wasn't all that respectful. It inspired some pretty thought provoking things for me though. In the play that is performed in the film, Hamlet must come to a place where he forgives his father, inspired of course by a modernized "sexy Jesus." (Told you it wasn't respectful!) Something Jesus says to Hamlet really hit me between the eyes. He remarked that He understood how Hamlet felt about his father because Jesus' Father had forsaken Him too. The play ends with Hamlet forgiving his father and Jesus saying to His Father, "Father, I forgive you."
It's a pretty provoking thought when you consider it. Did Jesus have to forgive His Father for forsaking Him when He was on the cross? I'm not really sure. My well concealed conservative side would say no, and that side of me is probably right, but it's an intriguing idea. What must Jesus have felt when, as a perfectly innocent man, His Father abandoned Him at the darkest moment of His life? Did He understand? Despite that understanding, did He feel betrayed?
Thinking on these things opened up my old wounds. I don't want to dig into details, but in my situation the people I viewed as my mentors, friends and "spiritual parents" chose to handle a choice I made in a certain way. I've said more than once that it wasn't the decisions they made that caused the deep wounds; it was the feeling that I was abandoned in a time of need - in essence, betrayed. I trusted these people implicitly and absolutely, and I had always believed that if I made a big mistake they would be there for me. Of course, they would say that they were, but the truth is they were only willing to be there for me as long as I did things their way. They had mapped out the course they wanted me to take, and when I wasn't able or willing to deal with the issue that way, they cast me off like a piece of worthless shit. When I admitted that I was broken and couldn't emotionally handle the sermonizing, I was simply ignored.
It is that feeling of betrayal and abandonment that has been at the root of my struggle to experience the feelings of forgiveness, however committed I am to my choice to let it go. But what the "sexy Jesus" said really brought some things into perspective. I had never considered what He might have felt after being abandoned by His Father. Perhaps, like me, He could rationally look at the situation and say, "I understand and I'm not angry about the decision. He did what He had to do." But despite rational thought, perhaps there was some emotional, irrational corner of His heart that said, "Why? Why did you abandon me? Why did you walk away when I needed you? Why weren't you willing to fight for me?" He probably didn't. Jesus' understanding is so far beyond my limited understanding that I'm sure He didn't need to "forgive" His Father for forsaking Him, but just knowing that He had been forsaken by His Father opened something deep up in me and started to release some things.
Just like Jesus, I was forsaken by my "spiritual" father and mother. He was forsaken because of the sins of others; I was forsaken for my own sins. But He understands that. He knows what it feels like, and just knowing that He gets that makes me feel a bit less bitter and veangeful. It's not a cure all yet. There's still some sour spots in my heart, but I'm moving closer to forgiveness.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Broken People
Last night I had a conversation with my manager at the restaurant. She's still very young - only 21, which seems centuries ago to me - and she's having relationship issues with her girlfriend. (Yes, she's a lesbian.) At one time I wouldn't have been able to see past her sexual preference, and though I still don't believe that God approves of homosexuality (though He desperately loves the homosexual), I don't look at her and see someone who's gay. I just see her - this wonderful, amazing person who has far more to bring to the world than she knows.
Anyway, those matters are beside the point, and though I want to explore them, I'll do so at another time. What I'm really driving at is the fact that this girl is in a relationship with someone several years younger who's really not ready for the kind of committed relationship that my manager is ready for. So despite the fact that they love each other, their relationship is falling apart at the seams as they both tug at each other - one desiring independence and convenient intimacy, and the other desiring something deeper and more fulfilling. It's been hard over the past few months to watch this girl I really love go through the near weekly drama that consumes their relationship, so when she asked for my advice last night, I gave her my honest opinion. No, I didn't tell her she should stop being a lesbian and "get right with God." While I believe that's what she truly needs, the soil of her heart isn't ready to hear that yet, and my advice without discretion would only serve to close her off to me should the time ever come that her heart is ready to hear the whole truth. The honest opinion I gave her was the opinion my best friend has given me regarding my relationships with men. And just like me, she's not entirely ready to act on it, even if she knows it's good advice. I told her I think she needs to walk away from this relationship and get involved with someone who's ready for the kind of relationship she really wants to be in. I think she has a lot to give, and getting involved with a more mature person who's ready for a relationship with less drama and more giving would do wonders for her.
I understand how easy it is to give that advice and how terribly hard - even impossible - it is to follow, even when you see the wisdom of it. And no doubt I feel for S (my manager) the same kind of compassionate concern my best friend must feel for me. I know she's not ready to let this relationship go, and so I know that her heart will continue to be battered as she holds out for changes that aren't going to happen.
It's hard to watch somone you love make choices that aren't in their best interest. You understand why they're driven to make those choices, but it hurts to know that those choices will only cause more pain in the long term. It's especially hard when that person has the kind of personality that S does. She reminds me so very much of my ex-lover sometimes. On the outside she's a hard ass who seems like she just blows stuff off, but the truth is she's this terribly vulnerable heart inside, a teddy bear who internalizes everything. In fact, despite her tough exterior, I think she gets wounded more deeply by things than the average person. And just as I'd love to do with him, sometimes I just ache to wrap my arms around that place inside her that is so bruised and hurting and heal it for her. I want to protect her and help her before she starts building walls and getting all hard like he has.
There are lots of people I know who make me feel this way, and it makes me wonder if that's a part of what God wants to do with my life. I want to fix the broken people. I never used to care beyond the superficial, but I remember asking God a long time ago to help me see people through His eyes and love them with His love. I guess I was expecting a lightning bolt from heaven to strike me with superhuman love and compassion, but that's not how it happened. I just know that somehow over the last ten years, my heart has become soft toward others so gradually and imperceptably to me that I don't know when I became a bawl-baby over them, but somehow I have. I look at people and I see beyond the surface. I look at M, another of my co-workers from the restaurant whom I just adore, and can't help but wonder what's going to happen to him when he wakes up someday and searches for meaning in his life beyond partying, one-night stands and getting stoned. I wonder why he is so driven to immerse himself in the crazy life he lives - what is it he's running away from? - and who among all his partying buddies will really be there for him when he's desperate and in need.
I can't explain it, but I just wish I knew where to start and how to make a true difference. I don't know why I get hit harder with some people more than others, but I do. It's just like I can see certain people hobbling around emotionally - some of them have already given up and they're just going through the motions like the walking dead, others are still striving and struggling and fighting to make something work out - and I want to get in there and fix them. I want to sit down with them inside their souls and cry big tears for all the pain in there and cover it all with warm, healing oil. I want to make it stop hurting and stop longing and stop warring so they can come out in the sun like innocent children and laugh and start fresh without those wounds that cripple them.
I remember being with my ex-lover and seeing some of those dark, wounded places in him. I felt so inadequate to even begin to heal them. The pain and the past were just too big, and it was a horrible feeling to know that I could wrap my arms around his body while knowing that he didn't know how to let me wrap my arms around his soul.
The truth is, though, I don't know how much any of us can heal one another. The creation can only do so much for itself before it has to turn to the Creator and say, "Please help. We're having a serious malfunction here, and we can't fix it." I don't believe He likes to see us hurting, but I think He's wise enough to understand that it's usually our pain that goads us until we have to look to Him for some kind of relief.
I suppose that the pain and loneliness I was talking about dealing with in my last post have been God's tools to make my heart soft toward others. I know what it feels like to hurt deeply, and so now it hurts me to see others feel that pain. I asked God to teach me compassion, so He gave the gift (albeit a somewhat dubious gift) of pain. Or so my Fundy upbringing would say. But as I've said before, not all Fundy ideas are completely out in left field. And though I know somewhere deep inside that He is the healing for all that pain, I'm still waiting for Him to come through and fill in those deep, lonely places that haunt me. Without His healing, I can only look on the pain of others with compassion; I have nothing else to give them. I'm just one more patient in this huge hospital of terribly broken people, wishing desperately that I had something more effective than snake oil to offer to my fellow patients.
Anyway, those matters are beside the point, and though I want to explore them, I'll do so at another time. What I'm really driving at is the fact that this girl is in a relationship with someone several years younger who's really not ready for the kind of committed relationship that my manager is ready for. So despite the fact that they love each other, their relationship is falling apart at the seams as they both tug at each other - one desiring independence and convenient intimacy, and the other desiring something deeper and more fulfilling. It's been hard over the past few months to watch this girl I really love go through the near weekly drama that consumes their relationship, so when she asked for my advice last night, I gave her my honest opinion. No, I didn't tell her she should stop being a lesbian and "get right with God." While I believe that's what she truly needs, the soil of her heart isn't ready to hear that yet, and my advice without discretion would only serve to close her off to me should the time ever come that her heart is ready to hear the whole truth. The honest opinion I gave her was the opinion my best friend has given me regarding my relationships with men. And just like me, she's not entirely ready to act on it, even if she knows it's good advice. I told her I think she needs to walk away from this relationship and get involved with someone who's ready for the kind of relationship she really wants to be in. I think she has a lot to give, and getting involved with a more mature person who's ready for a relationship with less drama and more giving would do wonders for her.
I understand how easy it is to give that advice and how terribly hard - even impossible - it is to follow, even when you see the wisdom of it. And no doubt I feel for S (my manager) the same kind of compassionate concern my best friend must feel for me. I know she's not ready to let this relationship go, and so I know that her heart will continue to be battered as she holds out for changes that aren't going to happen.
It's hard to watch somone you love make choices that aren't in their best interest. You understand why they're driven to make those choices, but it hurts to know that those choices will only cause more pain in the long term. It's especially hard when that person has the kind of personality that S does. She reminds me so very much of my ex-lover sometimes. On the outside she's a hard ass who seems like she just blows stuff off, but the truth is she's this terribly vulnerable heart inside, a teddy bear who internalizes everything. In fact, despite her tough exterior, I think she gets wounded more deeply by things than the average person. And just as I'd love to do with him, sometimes I just ache to wrap my arms around that place inside her that is so bruised and hurting and heal it for her. I want to protect her and help her before she starts building walls and getting all hard like he has.
There are lots of people I know who make me feel this way, and it makes me wonder if that's a part of what God wants to do with my life. I want to fix the broken people. I never used to care beyond the superficial, but I remember asking God a long time ago to help me see people through His eyes and love them with His love. I guess I was expecting a lightning bolt from heaven to strike me with superhuman love and compassion, but that's not how it happened. I just know that somehow over the last ten years, my heart has become soft toward others so gradually and imperceptably to me that I don't know when I became a bawl-baby over them, but somehow I have. I look at people and I see beyond the surface. I look at M, another of my co-workers from the restaurant whom I just adore, and can't help but wonder what's going to happen to him when he wakes up someday and searches for meaning in his life beyond partying, one-night stands and getting stoned. I wonder why he is so driven to immerse himself in the crazy life he lives - what is it he's running away from? - and who among all his partying buddies will really be there for him when he's desperate and in need.
I can't explain it, but I just wish I knew where to start and how to make a true difference. I don't know why I get hit harder with some people more than others, but I do. It's just like I can see certain people hobbling around emotionally - some of them have already given up and they're just going through the motions like the walking dead, others are still striving and struggling and fighting to make something work out - and I want to get in there and fix them. I want to sit down with them inside their souls and cry big tears for all the pain in there and cover it all with warm, healing oil. I want to make it stop hurting and stop longing and stop warring so they can come out in the sun like innocent children and laugh and start fresh without those wounds that cripple them.
I remember being with my ex-lover and seeing some of those dark, wounded places in him. I felt so inadequate to even begin to heal them. The pain and the past were just too big, and it was a horrible feeling to know that I could wrap my arms around his body while knowing that he didn't know how to let me wrap my arms around his soul.
The truth is, though, I don't know how much any of us can heal one another. The creation can only do so much for itself before it has to turn to the Creator and say, "Please help. We're having a serious malfunction here, and we can't fix it." I don't believe He likes to see us hurting, but I think He's wise enough to understand that it's usually our pain that goads us until we have to look to Him for some kind of relief.
I suppose that the pain and loneliness I was talking about dealing with in my last post have been God's tools to make my heart soft toward others. I know what it feels like to hurt deeply, and so now it hurts me to see others feel that pain. I asked God to teach me compassion, so He gave the gift (albeit a somewhat dubious gift) of pain. Or so my Fundy upbringing would say. But as I've said before, not all Fundy ideas are completely out in left field. And though I know somewhere deep inside that He is the healing for all that pain, I'm still waiting for Him to come through and fill in those deep, lonely places that haunt me. Without His healing, I can only look on the pain of others with compassion; I have nothing else to give them. I'm just one more patient in this huge hospital of terribly broken people, wishing desperately that I had something more effective than snake oil to offer to my fellow patients.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Profoundly Alone
Maybe it's the lousy weather we've been having the past few days, but today I'm just having a hell of a time pulling myself out of the doldrums, and the disappointment with life in general that's been plagueing me is feeling a bit overwhelming. So despite that fact that this blog is supposed to be primarily about spiritual issues, I'm just gonna vent and get it all out.
I guess a lot of what I have to say comes back to spiritual stuff anyway, though on a much more personal note. One of the few things I miss from my Fundy days was the sense of direction I had. I was moving toward a clear destiny. I had no idea how the hell I was going to get there, but I knew where I was going. In retrospect, I don't think that destiny was a very good fit for me or all that closely related to God's real purpose for putting me here. In fact, I think this terribly difficult (at times) journey I'm taking now has far more to do with what He wants for me than even I can see right now. The problem is I can't see that far. All I see is a 30-year-old woman who's still single, working in an unsatisfying job, and having a hard time moving in any direction other than Nowhereville. I have all these dreams, but I feel like I'm stuck in neutral and can't move into realizing them.
For starters, I have so many adventurous things I want to do, but I'm not getting anywhere. Part of that has to do with the physical issues I've been fighting for nearly six months now. I sit on a ball all day at work to keep my hips from hurting, but that just makes my back sore. When I get out of bed in the morning or stand up after a lengthy period of sitting, I hobble around like an escapee from a geriatric ward. It's ridiculous. I'm thirty! I'm not supposed to wobble my way across the room like someone who's pushing ninety! Exercising hurts, so I don't get out to enjoy the beautiful world that soothes my soul and makes me feel closer to God. (Dammit! Stop crying, Amy!) It seems like nothing I do provides a permanent solution, and though my doctor assures me this will pass with physical therapy, there's this horrible fear inside me that I'm never going to feel normal and stop hurting again, and all those lovely dreams I have of snowboarding and climbing and exploring my world under the power of my own two legs will never materialize. And I hate how out of shape I've become. Last summer I was in the best shape of my life. Now, I get a bit winded from climbing a couple flights of stairs. I used to pass people while hiking uphill. This summer I've been able to get out once, and I had to drop to the back because I was in so much pain I couldn't keep up. I've gained a few pounds, and I hate it! What if all the dreams and desires I have to be extreme in the outdoors die inside me unrealized?
I'm also frustrated with my dead-end career. That's not to say I'm not thankful. Going through several months of unemployment last fall impacted me deeply, and when I start to complain to myself about how boring technical editing is, I remember that horrible fear that felt like a hand around my throat. I lived with that fear day after day when I couldn't find work. I may not love (or even really like) this job, but it pays better than anything I've ever had, and I work with some really great people who have become good friends. But what if I get stuck here? It's a legitimate fear. I have no formal education to propel me into an enjoyable career with an actual future. What I'm capable of means nothing next to my lack of education and limited experience. Of course, I've looked at going back to school, but who wants to start at the bottom when they're pushing 31? I don't relish 5-8 years of schooling (part-time school, full-time work) just to get a Bachelors. I've got to make a living and support myself. Do I want to spend the entirety of my thirties in school only to hit 40 with hefty debt from student loans and a body that's getting past it's prime, thereby limiting my ability to take up those outdoor loves? And if I went to school, what would I study? It's all a bit overwhelming.
To top it all off, I can't help feeling, most of the time, as though I am profoundly alone. (Oh boy! Here go the waterworks again! Aren't you glad you came to my pity party?) Part of this has to do with being single. Okay, a lot of it has to do with being single. It's not that I don't value my singleness. Actually, I do. In fact, I'm not in any rush just now to dash to the altar with anyone, but I would really like to be in a committed relationship with a man who actually WANTS to be with me and invest himself in a relationship with me. I'd like to have someone to cuddle with on the couch and talk to when I've had a bad day. I want someone to lay beside me in bed and keep me warm on cold nights and let me nestle my head into his shoulder. And you know, I'm really tired of all the people who don't get this because they have that already. I'm sick to death of people who get married at 19 or 20 or even 25 who don't have the foggiest of clues what it means to be lonely. (Yes, I know that sometimes the loneliest people are married.) I don't understand why the God of the universe would uniquely fit someone for a loving relationship and then not provide it. I'm tired of going months snuggling up to my pillow at night to help compensate for the empty side of the bed, and then finding someone who fits the bill (or seems to) only to have him turn into a certified asshole. I'm tired of being alone. I'm tired of compensating. I'm tired of finding myself wandering to the personal ads on Craigslist and staring at the ones who just want a cuddle on a lonely night and finding myself contemplating if it would be worth the risk that he might not be a lonely guy but a serial killer or a sex offender. (Don't worry. I've never called and I won't!) But seriously. Why do I have to be alone?
Now of course, some judgmental Fundy will say, "All of this is happening because you're not where you should be with God." You know what? Fuck you. I don't think God's afflicting my hips because I love hiking too much. Why would He keep me away from the places where my soul takes a deep breath and opens up to hear Him most clearly? I don't think He's pissed at me and leaving me without direction in life because I'm searching for authentic Christian spirituality instead of swallowing every traditional idea that's been shoved at me. In fact, I think He's happy that I finally started seeking something more substantial. And I suppose that, however Fundy-ish it might sound, even my loneliness has a purpose. But I'm sick to death of it, and I have these moments of desperation where I'm literally ready to look a bad decision in the face and make it anyway, despite knowing it's one of the worst things I could do, just to get a moment or two of relief from feeling so very alone. I guess I should be thankful for the friends who keep me from outright stupidity, and honestly I am, but there are moments when you just wish someone would let you jump off the bridge and get it over (No, I'm not talking suicide. I'm talking about acts of desperation.).
I'm sure all this sounds kinda scary to some people, and I don't feel like this 24/7, thank God. But I'm really at that "something's gotta give" place, and I'm all done with being alone.
I guess a lot of what I have to say comes back to spiritual stuff anyway, though on a much more personal note. One of the few things I miss from my Fundy days was the sense of direction I had. I was moving toward a clear destiny. I had no idea how the hell I was going to get there, but I knew where I was going. In retrospect, I don't think that destiny was a very good fit for me or all that closely related to God's real purpose for putting me here. In fact, I think this terribly difficult (at times) journey I'm taking now has far more to do with what He wants for me than even I can see right now. The problem is I can't see that far. All I see is a 30-year-old woman who's still single, working in an unsatisfying job, and having a hard time moving in any direction other than Nowhereville. I have all these dreams, but I feel like I'm stuck in neutral and can't move into realizing them.
For starters, I have so many adventurous things I want to do, but I'm not getting anywhere. Part of that has to do with the physical issues I've been fighting for nearly six months now. I sit on a ball all day at work to keep my hips from hurting, but that just makes my back sore. When I get out of bed in the morning or stand up after a lengthy period of sitting, I hobble around like an escapee from a geriatric ward. It's ridiculous. I'm thirty! I'm not supposed to wobble my way across the room like someone who's pushing ninety! Exercising hurts, so I don't get out to enjoy the beautiful world that soothes my soul and makes me feel closer to God. (Dammit! Stop crying, Amy!) It seems like nothing I do provides a permanent solution, and though my doctor assures me this will pass with physical therapy, there's this horrible fear inside me that I'm never going to feel normal and stop hurting again, and all those lovely dreams I have of snowboarding and climbing and exploring my world under the power of my own two legs will never materialize. And I hate how out of shape I've become. Last summer I was in the best shape of my life. Now, I get a bit winded from climbing a couple flights of stairs. I used to pass people while hiking uphill. This summer I've been able to get out once, and I had to drop to the back because I was in so much pain I couldn't keep up. I've gained a few pounds, and I hate it! What if all the dreams and desires I have to be extreme in the outdoors die inside me unrealized?
I'm also frustrated with my dead-end career. That's not to say I'm not thankful. Going through several months of unemployment last fall impacted me deeply, and when I start to complain to myself about how boring technical editing is, I remember that horrible fear that felt like a hand around my throat. I lived with that fear day after day when I couldn't find work. I may not love (or even really like) this job, but it pays better than anything I've ever had, and I work with some really great people who have become good friends. But what if I get stuck here? It's a legitimate fear. I have no formal education to propel me into an enjoyable career with an actual future. What I'm capable of means nothing next to my lack of education and limited experience. Of course, I've looked at going back to school, but who wants to start at the bottom when they're pushing 31? I don't relish 5-8 years of schooling (part-time school, full-time work) just to get a Bachelors. I've got to make a living and support myself. Do I want to spend the entirety of my thirties in school only to hit 40 with hefty debt from student loans and a body that's getting past it's prime, thereby limiting my ability to take up those outdoor loves? And if I went to school, what would I study? It's all a bit overwhelming.
To top it all off, I can't help feeling, most of the time, as though I am profoundly alone. (Oh boy! Here go the waterworks again! Aren't you glad you came to my pity party?) Part of this has to do with being single. Okay, a lot of it has to do with being single. It's not that I don't value my singleness. Actually, I do. In fact, I'm not in any rush just now to dash to the altar with anyone, but I would really like to be in a committed relationship with a man who actually WANTS to be with me and invest himself in a relationship with me. I'd like to have someone to cuddle with on the couch and talk to when I've had a bad day. I want someone to lay beside me in bed and keep me warm on cold nights and let me nestle my head into his shoulder. And you know, I'm really tired of all the people who don't get this because they have that already. I'm sick to death of people who get married at 19 or 20 or even 25 who don't have the foggiest of clues what it means to be lonely. (Yes, I know that sometimes the loneliest people are married.) I don't understand why the God of the universe would uniquely fit someone for a loving relationship and then not provide it. I'm tired of going months snuggling up to my pillow at night to help compensate for the empty side of the bed, and then finding someone who fits the bill (or seems to) only to have him turn into a certified asshole. I'm tired of being alone. I'm tired of compensating. I'm tired of finding myself wandering to the personal ads on Craigslist and staring at the ones who just want a cuddle on a lonely night and finding myself contemplating if it would be worth the risk that he might not be a lonely guy but a serial killer or a sex offender. (Don't worry. I've never called and I won't!) But seriously. Why do I have to be alone?
Now of course, some judgmental Fundy will say, "All of this is happening because you're not where you should be with God." You know what? Fuck you. I don't think God's afflicting my hips because I love hiking too much. Why would He keep me away from the places where my soul takes a deep breath and opens up to hear Him most clearly? I don't think He's pissed at me and leaving me without direction in life because I'm searching for authentic Christian spirituality instead of swallowing every traditional idea that's been shoved at me. In fact, I think He's happy that I finally started seeking something more substantial. And I suppose that, however Fundy-ish it might sound, even my loneliness has a purpose. But I'm sick to death of it, and I have these moments of desperation where I'm literally ready to look a bad decision in the face and make it anyway, despite knowing it's one of the worst things I could do, just to get a moment or two of relief from feeling so very alone. I guess I should be thankful for the friends who keep me from outright stupidity, and honestly I am, but there are moments when you just wish someone would let you jump off the bridge and get it over (No, I'm not talking suicide. I'm talking about acts of desperation.).
I'm sure all this sounds kinda scary to some people, and I don't feel like this 24/7, thank God. But I'm really at that "something's gotta give" place, and I'm all done with being alone.
Monday, August 18, 2008
New Ideas
It's been far too long since I posted, partly because some of the issues I'm wrestling with are just to personal to put out there, partly because I just haven't been in the mood, and partly because I haven't had the time or desire to make it happen. However, here I am again.
I've been doing a lot of thinking/wrestling over the issue I raised in my last post relating to that sense of God withholding Himself. I've hashed the matter through, and though I haven't really settled on an answer that fully satisfies me yet, I feel like I may be getting situated in a direction that could prove enlightening with a bit of forward momentum.
There is a thought that is slowly wending its way through my brain like a flashlight searching through a dark, abandoned building. I've been feeling angry at God for all of this, recognizing that it's not really His fault, but still feeling like He withheld what I needed to the point that it put me in a position where I was more vulnerable to weakness than I should have been. Granted, my choices are my own, but perhaps if He had done things differently, I wouldn't have made those choices. So I've been kinda pissed. Pissed that I was (and still am) weak and vulnerable. Pissed that He could have done something about it and didn't. Pissed that I trusted Him and walked away empty-handed. Somewhere in there I know it's not His fault, that He was the wise one and the love I needed was always there, but I haven't sorted it through yet. So this new idea is beginning to infiltrate. It's hard for me to articulate because I'm still in that place where my fingers are just brushing the edges of something unfamiliar. The best I can say at the moment is that perhaps it wasn't God who left me out in the cold. Perhaps it's not His fault, not because, as I've been angry about, He failed to do what I thought He said He would. Perhaps what I was taught about Him was wrong. Perhaps I was trained up in perspectives that weren't quite on target.
No, my Fundy friends, don't freak out on me. I'm not going anywhere weird. I'm just saying that perhaps my understanding of God as the Lover or the Father was influenced incorrectly by the people who taught me these things. It isn't that He isn't the Lover or the Father or the Fulfiller, but perhaps what I was taught to expect from Him in those roles led me away from who and what He really is in them.
I realize that may not make much sense and that this posting is rather scattered, but my thoughts on the subject are still very fragmented and hesitant. It's hard to retrain the mind and explore new ideas when you've grown so accustomed to the old ones that you could walk through them blindfolded. However, as I start figuring my way around in here and find out if this new way of thinking might actually be truth, I'll keep you posted. (Haha. Posted. Get it? LOL. Oh, never mind.)
I've been doing a lot of thinking/wrestling over the issue I raised in my last post relating to that sense of God withholding Himself. I've hashed the matter through, and though I haven't really settled on an answer that fully satisfies me yet, I feel like I may be getting situated in a direction that could prove enlightening with a bit of forward momentum.
There is a thought that is slowly wending its way through my brain like a flashlight searching through a dark, abandoned building. I've been feeling angry at God for all of this, recognizing that it's not really His fault, but still feeling like He withheld what I needed to the point that it put me in a position where I was more vulnerable to weakness than I should have been. Granted, my choices are my own, but perhaps if He had done things differently, I wouldn't have made those choices. So I've been kinda pissed. Pissed that I was (and still am) weak and vulnerable. Pissed that He could have done something about it and didn't. Pissed that I trusted Him and walked away empty-handed. Somewhere in there I know it's not His fault, that He was the wise one and the love I needed was always there, but I haven't sorted it through yet. So this new idea is beginning to infiltrate. It's hard for me to articulate because I'm still in that place where my fingers are just brushing the edges of something unfamiliar. The best I can say at the moment is that perhaps it wasn't God who left me out in the cold. Perhaps it's not His fault, not because, as I've been angry about, He failed to do what I thought He said He would. Perhaps what I was taught about Him was wrong. Perhaps I was trained up in perspectives that weren't quite on target.
No, my Fundy friends, don't freak out on me. I'm not going anywhere weird. I'm just saying that perhaps my understanding of God as the Lover or the Father was influenced incorrectly by the people who taught me these things. It isn't that He isn't the Lover or the Father or the Fulfiller, but perhaps what I was taught to expect from Him in those roles led me away from who and what He really is in them.
I realize that may not make much sense and that this posting is rather scattered, but my thoughts on the subject are still very fragmented and hesitant. It's hard to retrain the mind and explore new ideas when you've grown so accustomed to the old ones that you could walk through them blindfolded. However, as I start figuring my way around in here and find out if this new way of thinking might actually be truth, I'll keep you posted. (Haha. Posted. Get it? LOL. Oh, never mind.)
Sunday, July 27, 2008
God Withholding
I should warn you in advance that this post hits a really raw nerve with me, so I can't be sure what I'm gonna end up saying.
I got home from work last night and decided to watch some Creed videos on You Tube. I'd heard "Higher" on the radio while I was driving to work, and as I hadn't listened to it in a long time, I wanted to hear it again. But as I watched it and some of the other videos by Creed, I found myself wrestling with some really deep, raw, vulnerable stuff in me. I got this sense of God withholding Himself, which is something I don't understand. I remember hearing a few years ago that the lead singer of Creed is the son of a pastor, but he doesn't embrace Christianity personally. I don't know if any or all of that is true. I do know that his lyrics sure seem to support it. In fact, his lyrics resonate with me because they sound like the cry of a man who wants authentic relationship with God and, like me, believes that the Bible holds the truth, but for some reason God withholds Himself from the seeker. Listen to some of the stuff he says and you'll see what I mean.
When dreaming I'm guided to another world
Time and time again
At sunrise I fight to stay asleep
'Cause I don't want to leave the comfort of this place
'Cause there's a hunger, a longing to escape
From the life I live when I'm awake
So let's go there
Let's make our escape
Come on, let's go there
Let's ask can we stay.
Can you take me higher?
To a place where blind men see
Can you take me higher?
To a place with golden streets
And then there's his song "One Last Breath."
Please come now I think I’m falling
I’m holding on to all I think is safe
It seems I found the road to nowhere
And I’m trying to escape
I yelled back when I heard thunder
But I’m down to one last breath
And with it let me say
Let me say
Hold me now
I’m six feet from the edge and I’m thinking
That maybe six feet
Ain’t so far down
I’m looking down now that it’s over
Reflecting on all of my mistakes
I thought I found the road to somewhere, Somewhere in His grace
I cried out heaven save me, But I’m down to one last breath
Sad eyes follow me
But I still believe there’s something left for me
So please come stay with me
‘Cause I still believe there’s something left for you and me
For you and me, for you and me
I cried as I watched these videos last night because he has such a longing in his eyes, and I can't help but wonder why God doesn't answer him. I want to know why God doesn't fight for him. Why would He let someone who knows the truth is there and reaches for it not find Him? That's something that doesn't make sense to me. Why does God pursue people who don't give a fuck for Him and ignore those who are longing and reaching and desperate to find Him? Not just truth or church or blessings, but HIM. Don't get me wrong, I love the fact that God pursues people who don't want Him; in fact, I have a list of people I dearly love that I beg Him to pursue. But this guy's words and the look on his face really hit that raw nerve in me because I feel like I'm right there with him. I feel like I went after God and searched for Him and begged Him to meet me. I didn't hold myself back and I threw myself out there. I was ready to give Him anything and everything, just to live in His love and know Him. And I feel like He didn't really respond. I feel like I reached out with desperate arms to embrace a vanished lover. Why?
To be honest, it pisses me off. I remember years ago - I would have been in high school at the time - right after I really committed my life to Christ. I had just started reading my Bible, and why I opted for Jeremiah I don't know, but I found this verse in Jeremiah 29 that said, "You will seek me and find me when you search for me with all your heart." That verse was like a thunderclap. It was one of those times when you know that God is speaking right to you. And I've never forgotten that, and I spent years wholeheartedly seeking Him. Sometimes I found Him, but most of the time I felt like He was just beyond my reach. I would push harder ("pressing in" we called it), but He still stayed just far enough for me to sense Him but not close enough to touch. I can't tell you how many times I cried out and walked away still longing. I don't know why I kept reaching so long and didn't give up sooner. Now, though, I feel like I've worn myself out and there's just nothing left in me to reach with. So seeing someone else who seems to have gone through this kind of thing and hearing him sing about how he's reaching and not finding terrifies me. What happens when you have nothing left to reach with and you still haven't gotten what you sought? How can I trust that, having become Gomer, He will really come after me? After all, He withheld Himself when I was wholeheartedly seeking, so what hope do I have when my spirit is just too tired to reach anymore?
I suppose there's always the possibility that where I am now is where He's always wanted me to be, that He couldn't answer my longing then because I would have forever stayed in the narrow minded place I lived and never learned to love the real people in the real world. Maybe I had to learn that I could never long deeply enough or reach far enough or strive unceasingly enough, and the only way to find Him was to let Him find me. I don't know. All I know is that I don't have any "reach" left, and I'm really hoping that He'll show up before too awful long. I miss Him. I don't miss the Fundy church or my nutty ideas, but I miss Him. And that's weird too. How can you miss what you rarely found?
Anyhow, this is just one of those things I don't get about God. I don't get why He seems to ignore the seeking - or some of the seeking, at any right. Why doesn't He reach back to that Creed guy? Why didn't He reach back to me? And will He?
Of course, some well meaning person will offer a reassurance that He will, and they're probably right. But why wait until "someday"? Why not now? Why not then? Why wait until a person's ability to trust has been shattered?
I got home from work last night and decided to watch some Creed videos on You Tube. I'd heard "Higher" on the radio while I was driving to work, and as I hadn't listened to it in a long time, I wanted to hear it again. But as I watched it and some of the other videos by Creed, I found myself wrestling with some really deep, raw, vulnerable stuff in me. I got this sense of God withholding Himself, which is something I don't understand. I remember hearing a few years ago that the lead singer of Creed is the son of a pastor, but he doesn't embrace Christianity personally. I don't know if any or all of that is true. I do know that his lyrics sure seem to support it. In fact, his lyrics resonate with me because they sound like the cry of a man who wants authentic relationship with God and, like me, believes that the Bible holds the truth, but for some reason God withholds Himself from the seeker. Listen to some of the stuff he says and you'll see what I mean.
When dreaming I'm guided to another world
Time and time again
At sunrise I fight to stay asleep
'Cause I don't want to leave the comfort of this place
'Cause there's a hunger, a longing to escape
From the life I live when I'm awake
So let's go there
Let's make our escape
Come on, let's go there
Let's ask can we stay.
Can you take me higher?
To a place where blind men see
Can you take me higher?
To a place with golden streets
And then there's his song "One Last Breath."
Please come now I think I’m falling
I’m holding on to all I think is safe
It seems I found the road to nowhere
And I’m trying to escape
I yelled back when I heard thunder
But I’m down to one last breath
And with it let me say
Let me say
Hold me now
I’m six feet from the edge and I’m thinking
That maybe six feet
Ain’t so far down
I’m looking down now that it’s over
Reflecting on all of my mistakes
I thought I found the road to somewhere, Somewhere in His grace
I cried out heaven save me, But I’m down to one last breath
Sad eyes follow me
But I still believe there’s something left for me
So please come stay with me
‘Cause I still believe there’s something left for you and me
For you and me, for you and me
I cried as I watched these videos last night because he has such a longing in his eyes, and I can't help but wonder why God doesn't answer him. I want to know why God doesn't fight for him. Why would He let someone who knows the truth is there and reaches for it not find Him? That's something that doesn't make sense to me. Why does God pursue people who don't give a fuck for Him and ignore those who are longing and reaching and desperate to find Him? Not just truth or church or blessings, but HIM. Don't get me wrong, I love the fact that God pursues people who don't want Him; in fact, I have a list of people I dearly love that I beg Him to pursue. But this guy's words and the look on his face really hit that raw nerve in me because I feel like I'm right there with him. I feel like I went after God and searched for Him and begged Him to meet me. I didn't hold myself back and I threw myself out there. I was ready to give Him anything and everything, just to live in His love and know Him. And I feel like He didn't really respond. I feel like I reached out with desperate arms to embrace a vanished lover. Why?
To be honest, it pisses me off. I remember years ago - I would have been in high school at the time - right after I really committed my life to Christ. I had just started reading my Bible, and why I opted for Jeremiah I don't know, but I found this verse in Jeremiah 29 that said, "You will seek me and find me when you search for me with all your heart." That verse was like a thunderclap. It was one of those times when you know that God is speaking right to you. And I've never forgotten that, and I spent years wholeheartedly seeking Him. Sometimes I found Him, but most of the time I felt like He was just beyond my reach. I would push harder ("pressing in" we called it), but He still stayed just far enough for me to sense Him but not close enough to touch. I can't tell you how many times I cried out and walked away still longing. I don't know why I kept reaching so long and didn't give up sooner. Now, though, I feel like I've worn myself out and there's just nothing left in me to reach with. So seeing someone else who seems to have gone through this kind of thing and hearing him sing about how he's reaching and not finding terrifies me. What happens when you have nothing left to reach with and you still haven't gotten what you sought? How can I trust that, having become Gomer, He will really come after me? After all, He withheld Himself when I was wholeheartedly seeking, so what hope do I have when my spirit is just too tired to reach anymore?
I suppose there's always the possibility that where I am now is where He's always wanted me to be, that He couldn't answer my longing then because I would have forever stayed in the narrow minded place I lived and never learned to love the real people in the real world. Maybe I had to learn that I could never long deeply enough or reach far enough or strive unceasingly enough, and the only way to find Him was to let Him find me. I don't know. All I know is that I don't have any "reach" left, and I'm really hoping that He'll show up before too awful long. I miss Him. I don't miss the Fundy church or my nutty ideas, but I miss Him. And that's weird too. How can you miss what you rarely found?
Anyhow, this is just one of those things I don't get about God. I don't get why He seems to ignore the seeking - or some of the seeking, at any right. Why doesn't He reach back to that Creed guy? Why didn't He reach back to me? And will He?
Of course, some well meaning person will offer a reassurance that He will, and they're probably right. But why wait until "someday"? Why not now? Why not then? Why wait until a person's ability to trust has been shattered?
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