I suppose it is inevitable, but I certainly hope it is necessary and profitable... self-evaluation. Just like the seasons of the year, my heart experiences seasons of yearning for another glimpse at my definition. Times like this feel unsettled and uncomfortable compared to the seasons of rest, or the seasons of growth and purpose - times when I know who I am and what I'm doing here. But not today, and not for a while now. To a degree, it feels quite useless and even vain to describe what is not yet accomplished, and what is unsettled. Goals and successes, or even failures, are much more tangible and desiring to be cut into pieces and savored. But this... this fog is quite bland. Tasteless and void.
Much of my unrest lately, I think, stems from my increasingly unsettled understanding of my God. Yes, I said "increasingly unsettled". We grow older and wiser, do we not? And gather insight from experiences, yadda, yadda? What do we do with ourselves when we've found that our grip has grown weak, or perhaps, when what we've been holding onto simply begins to dissolve? A gracious gift of faith was given to me more than 10 years ago now, and it has since grown a face, arms, and legs, and a heart. I have enjoyed the growth spurts and the pains of questioning and seeking a deeper understanding of the mysteries of our creation and our salvation. I have had indescribable peace when considering that I don't know answers to most of my own questions - the answers I do have have been enough to keep me moving. But now my faith, with its assuredness and purpose, has taken off on its own two legs in a direction I don't like, I can't appreciate, and I'd rather not follow...
If you have spent a considerable amount of time in church communities, then you come to find yourself speaking and understanding a new sort-of language. "Christianese" some call it. In Christianese, followers of Christ are often called ("called" - there's another one) to have a "relationship with God", to speak to God often (in prayer or "quiet time"), to listen to Him speak to you through the Scriptures of the Bible, and to bask in the glorious blessings of joyful relationship with Him! So simple, even everyone can do it, and should do it if we are to have a genuine faith - or so the sermon goes. Not that this is outlined in the Bible or taught from the lips of Christ himself, but never you mind all that...
Here's the part where my face begins to melt as I type away my long, drawn out confession... My God stopped talking to me a long time ago. I don't know why. I've asked, I've theorized, rationalized, minimized. I've put up tangible reminders of Him to myself, so to fill the void of His absence. Like a child who pins a favorite photo or drawing of Santa Clause up on the fridge, I've got His picture framed by my bedside. In this fog, some strange new clarity has emerged and exposed a horrifying truth to me: I knew this framed face even before I knew faith. He has no name, but he likes me, so I like him. I've colored him in pretty hues and painted on a warm grin. What if, all along, this has not been my God??? What if my God is not gazing upon me with a perpetual smile on His face and twinkle in His eye? What if He is not gazing upon me at all? My faith wishes me to step in a foreign direction, and trust that I have a creator and a savior who has me as a piece of His puzzle and a spot of paint in His portrait, but far, far from the center of it. So far that He is more mysterious to me now than He has ever been. And as long and as hard as I chase after Him, I may grow none the wiser.
Such a lonely place, this is. My relationship has been boiled down to smiles and coloring books. Has anyone out there found themselves feeling, thinking, or realizing similar things? Ever feel like you must daily validate your faith and your communion with the risen Christ? Ever paste a smile on your face so that others can rest assured that you are good with God? I would love, just once, to sit across a table from a long-time, Christian friend, and hear her say, "I've taken down the picture from my fridge. I'm tired of pretending that Jesus lives happily in my kitchen. I have nothing to put back up in the empty space though, so here I am. Drinking coffee with you, and without a smile." If you wanted to, you could sit with me and say those things. Or, if you prefer, I could go first...
Much of my unrest lately, I think, stems from my increasingly unsettled understanding of my God. Yes, I said "increasingly unsettled". We grow older and wiser, do we not? And gather insight from experiences, yadda, yadda? What do we do with ourselves when we've found that our grip has grown weak, or perhaps, when what we've been holding onto simply begins to dissolve? A gracious gift of faith was given to me more than 10 years ago now, and it has since grown a face, arms, and legs, and a heart. I have enjoyed the growth spurts and the pains of questioning and seeking a deeper understanding of the mysteries of our creation and our salvation. I have had indescribable peace when considering that I don't know answers to most of my own questions - the answers I do have have been enough to keep me moving. But now my faith, with its assuredness and purpose, has taken off on its own two legs in a direction I don't like, I can't appreciate, and I'd rather not follow...
If you have spent a considerable amount of time in church communities, then you come to find yourself speaking and understanding a new sort-of language. "Christianese" some call it. In Christianese, followers of Christ are often called ("called" - there's another one) to have a "relationship with God", to speak to God often (in prayer or "quiet time"), to listen to Him speak to you through the Scriptures of the Bible, and to bask in the glorious blessings of joyful relationship with Him! So simple, even everyone can do it, and should do it if we are to have a genuine faith - or so the sermon goes. Not that this is outlined in the Bible or taught from the lips of Christ himself, but never you mind all that...
Here's the part where my face begins to melt as I type away my long, drawn out confession... My God stopped talking to me a long time ago. I don't know why. I've asked, I've theorized, rationalized, minimized. I've put up tangible reminders of Him to myself, so to fill the void of His absence. Like a child who pins a favorite photo or drawing of Santa Clause up on the fridge, I've got His picture framed by my bedside. In this fog, some strange new clarity has emerged and exposed a horrifying truth to me: I knew this framed face even before I knew faith. He has no name, but he likes me, so I like him. I've colored him in pretty hues and painted on a warm grin. What if, all along, this has not been my God??? What if my God is not gazing upon me with a perpetual smile on His face and twinkle in His eye? What if He is not gazing upon me at all? My faith wishes me to step in a foreign direction, and trust that I have a creator and a savior who has me as a piece of His puzzle and a spot of paint in His portrait, but far, far from the center of it. So far that He is more mysterious to me now than He has ever been. And as long and as hard as I chase after Him, I may grow none the wiser.
Such a lonely place, this is. My relationship has been boiled down to smiles and coloring books. Has anyone out there found themselves feeling, thinking, or realizing similar things? Ever feel like you must daily validate your faith and your communion with the risen Christ? Ever paste a smile on your face so that others can rest assured that you are good with God? I would love, just once, to sit across a table from a long-time, Christian friend, and hear her say, "I've taken down the picture from my fridge. I'm tired of pretending that Jesus lives happily in my kitchen. I have nothing to put back up in the empty space though, so here I am. Drinking coffee with you, and without a smile." If you wanted to, you could sit with me and say those things. Or, if you prefer, I could go first...
5 comments:
Wow, Amanda, you are so brave to put your real feelings out there! I understand this feeling completely, but thought I was the only one. It's nice to hear someone else voice those feelings of being distant from God. Wish I could give you a big hug right now! How about a virtual one? ((HUGS)) :)
I get it! I also emailed you...love you...
Thank you, girls! What a pleasure to know what sweet company I am in. It's so nice to have friendly hands to hold during tough seasons. :)
I've been in this place. The fog is hard. One time, when I wondered where God was, why he didn't feel present in my life for months and months and months no matter how much I prayed, I met a random woman at my local farmer's market. (I'd never seen her before and I haven't seen her since, though she introduced herself as the owner, along with her husband. I've seen her husband numerous times since.) She noticed my DTS mug and asked if I'd read Jeanne Guyon. When I told her no, she pulled out her copy and lent it to me. That night, I read a section where Jeanne Guyon talks about God pulling back to test us. She asks, "Will we worship him even when he feels far away?"
I don't know if this is where you are, and it's not exactly an answer to anything. It doesn't explain why he feels far away, why he doesn't answer us. But it assured me that he's still there even when I don't like what he's doing.
Sweet friend. I'm sad to hear of your unrequited love. I've been there so often. My faith has grown, but every difficult moment still brings me spinning back to 'why?' and 'where are you?' A couple books that have challenged me lately on this are: Till We Have Faces, and The Princess and Curdie. If you don't see God in the present (or in that picture). Look back. At your own life, at other believer's lives. And live in confidence that He can never stop loving one of His own. Even if it doesn't 'feel' like love.
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