One-Sided Relationship

Sitting in a church service the other day, I finally realized why most sermons kind of bother me.  I should rephrase that, I don't mean it to be that negative.  Let's back up a bit so I can give some context here.

I was raised in a Christian family, attended church very regularly, and heard hundreds of sermons growing up.  For the most part, the pastors at the churches I attended were good people and for the most part there wasn't necessarily a lot that was wrong in the sermons.

But somehow I still grew up with this view of God as Someone who was distant, disengaged, and indifferent.  I've always had kind of a hard time figuring out exactly why that was.  I had been told God was love, that he desired relationship, etc.

Then, seated in a Sunday morning service and listening to a sermon on prayer, it finally clicked.  I finally realized that the vast majority of sermons/teachings/books were focused on only one side of the relationship.

Mine.

It's been pounded into my brain that I need to maintain my relationship with God, I need to fix things when they're broken, I need to find ways to strengthen it.  It's all up to me.

I need to pray more, read more, commit more.  I need to fix my flaws, unearth my hidden sins, change my heart.

I . . . I . . . I . . .

Even without it ever being said explicitly, the clear implication is that I am the initiator in my relationship with Father.  I need to say a prayer to start it, I need to do certain things to keep it healthy, I need to avoid certain things so I don't lose or damage the relationship.

So is it any wonder I saw God as indifferent if I was the only one working at this relationship?  Thankfully he began to win me out of that illusion, showing me that he was the initiator, he was the one reaching out, he was the one invested in our relationship even when I was distracted or flaking out.

And I think scripture bears that out.  Whether you take the creation story as literal or figurative, it was God beginning the process.  It was God who started the conversations with Abraham and Noah.  It was God who came to live with us in human form.  Just look at how Jesus interacted with people.  He started the conversation with the Samaritan woman at the well.  He approached fishermen and invited them to join him as his disciples.

Jesus didn't act much like my picture of God.  He wasn't unapproachable.  He didn't keep to himself or demand that people jump through a number of hoops before they could be near him.

He drew people to him.   He sought out people wherever they were at.

That's incredible to me.  There was something about Jesus that communicated to people that they were welcomed and accepted and desired.  Even the people that the culture rejected.  Even the people that religion called "unclean" or "unacceptable".  

I think the disciples had a view of God that was much like mine.  When people tried to bring their little children to Jesus, the disciples tried to keep them away.  After all, didn't they realize how important this man was?  But Jesus insisted that the children be brought to him, even declaring that the kingdom of God belonged to these little ones. 

How long did I labor under the impression that Father only accepted the good, the pure, the put-together, the have-all-the-answers, the committed?  How long did I kill myself trying to become "good enough"?

Yes, I heard that God loves.  But everything I read between the lines told me that God only really likes people who are doing all the right things to be a "good Christian".  And the overwhelming message was that it was all up to me.

In the end, that really created a self-centered brand of Christianity.  I was only focused on making myself good enough for God to love.  I totally missed the fact that Father was at work all around me and inviting me to join him in what he was doing.  I missed the fact that as his beloved child I get to engage him and walk with him through life.  I thought I had to get certain areas of my life fixed up before he would be welcome there, but instead I get to invite him into my pain and my anger and my doubt and learn to rest in his love in the very midst of all my struggles.

One of the most wonderful revelations of the past several years it that there is actually no space at all between Father and me.  There is no separation, we have become one.  And it's all because of Father!  He was the one that reconciled the world to himself, that drew me to him, that replaced my old heart with a new one.  He is the author and perfecter of faith, he started it and he completes it.  I am invited to respond to Father, to join him in what he is doing, but there is no burden on me to become something that is acceptable to him.

All those times I was begging God to come down from heaven, to meet with me, to have some sort of experience that would change my life . . . he was already there.  He had already destroyed anything that could separate us, I just wasn't aware of it.  I'm still learning to respond to his rhythms, to join him in the midst of day-to-day life, but I no longer feel the need to try to earn what I already have. 

It's always nice to learn that you've already been given that which you've been trying so hard to earn.

The Tension In Between

I don't know why, but I hate saying "God is teaching me [insert virtue here]."  Having said that, I think God's been trying to teach me about patience lately.  Or maybe he's teaching me about courage or humility and I'm totally misreading things.  Actually, that seems much more likely.

But let's move ahead with the assumption that in some capacity I'm learning about patience.  Something that has struck me is how different things are when there's an end in sight.  If I knew I was starting a new job on June 1st, these next few months would be quite bearable.  Any frustrations I encountered would only be temporary.  Pushing on is much easier with the finish line in sight.

But what if there's no end date?  What if you're stuck in an undesired situation and you feel that it's not time to move on yet?  What do you fill the meantime with? 

http://ninapaley.com/mimiandeunice/2010/08/09/patience/

My biggest struggle recently is feeling like I'm just wasting time.  I'm stuck in the tension between my current situation and whatever is coming next. With no timeline, I'm not sure what kinds of things I should put off for now.

Should we buy a house?  Start a family?  Is it a time to settle down or be prepared for a change?  Are we staying in Syracuse or moving elsewhere?  Should I look for advancement in my current job or check out opportunities in other fields?

And in the midst of this tension I feel like . . . a loser.  I do.  I feel paralyzed by the fact that I simply don't know what to do.  How do you plan for what's next when you don't know what, where, or when it is? I'm treading water and searching for a glimpse of the shore.

Maybe what much of this is revealing is my obsession with control.  I often find it difficult to let go of my need to be in control of whatever is going on in my life.  But like I wrote in the post about finding the end of my rope, maybe this loss of control is a good thing.  Maybe it will open my eyes to more of Father's goodness, bring more assurance of his unfailing love, affirm my identity as his beloved child.

Could it be that the issue is not patience, but trust?   Am I simply not trusting Father to be all of who he is?  If I trust Father and believe he'll take me to the right place at the right time, maybe I can learn to relax and simply engage in the moment. But it seems that all too quickly I take my eyes off Him and go back to examining my situations, searching for answers, growing frustrated once more. 

Deep breath . . . relax . . . trust.  Let's try this again.

Maybe there's no end in sight, but perhaps there are some beginnings.

The End of the Rope

I try to make it a point, in life and on this blog, to be completely honest.  I have certain ideas about God, theology, etc, but I don't want to be someone who espouses ideas without experiencing their reality.  I'm pretty adamant about Father's love because I believe it's shown in Scripture and I've experienced it in my life.

When it comes to matters of heaven and hell, the role of other religions, how "church" should look, I tend to hold these issues lightly.  I have ideas and thoughts, but nothing I've experienced makes me feel like I can give an absolute answer with 100% certainty.  

But anyway, I digress.  I want to be honest, both about the good and the bad.  I fear being a fake more than a failure.  So let me say honestly that I very much hope that this following passage hints at a truth that will soon be manifest in my life. 

Matthew 5:3 (The Message) - “You’re blessed when you’re at the end of your rope. With less of you there is more of God and his rule."

I very much feel at the end of my rope.  I want to believe that something amazing will happen when I let go, that I will fall into the arms of Father.  I hope that exhausting my own resources will lead me into a reliance on Him.  

I find myself at wit's end, unable to think myself out of my worries and struggles.  I simply don't know anymore.  I've run out of answers.  I feel like I've reached a point where situations are simply intolerable, but I see no escape.  

However, I do find myself encouraged by this passage from Infinite Jest:

"He hadn't quite gotten this before now, how it wasn't just the matter of riding out the cravings for a Substance: everything unendurable was in the head, was the head not Abiding in the Present but hopping the wall and doing a recon and then returning with unendurable news you then somehow believed." (emphasis added)

It's an interesting thought that things only become unendurable when we envision them lasting forever.  I know that's much of my struggle.  I want to learn to simply abide in the present, engage in what God is doing in the moment, love whoever surrounds me.  Instead I find myself imagining a bleak future where nothing gets better, and it is far beyond my ability to endure.  I fear that reaching the end of my rope results in me swinging from it.   

So I pray for the courage to let go of my craving for control, to let go of my pursuit of comforting answers, to let go of my need to peer into the future, to let go of my rope . . . and to grab hold of Father.  

To find grace for today, for this hour, for this moment . . . and to let that be enough.


Edit: I was just reading in Colossians, and this seemed so appropriate.  It's from Chapter 1, starting around verse 10 or 11 (in The Message):

"We pray that you’ll have the strength to stick it out over the long haul—not the grim strength of gritting your teeth but the glory-strength God gives. It is strength that endures the unendurable and spills over into joy, thanking the Father who makes us strong enough to take part in everything bright and beautiful that he has for us."