Thursday, August 7, 2008

Brought to you by the letter "G"

WHY DOES GOD ALWAYS GET LEFT OUT OF THE CONVERSATION?

I mean honestly. I've noticed it more and more. Whenever I bring up the "G word" conversation dies. Even with my "Christian" friends! Or there's a topic change. Or an awkward pause, a slight address, and then we're moving on. It's so frustrating! 

"Hey"
How are you?
"Well I'm struggling with [blank]..."
Oh, well [tons of advice]. Anything else?
"Sort of. I'm also struggling with God."
[Silence. Then...] So what else is new? 

"Dude, what's up? I haven't talked to you in so long!"
Hey! Yeah, I've been around [blah blah].
"Cool. What have you been up to?"
Eh, not much, you?
"This and that, it's been interesting. What's been on your mind?"
Well I've been doing a lot of thinking...
"About what?"
College and stuff...
"Oh yeah! [blah blah blah]"
And God. Aren't you Catholic?
[Silence. Then...] "Uh, yeah... so do you want to go shopping tomorrow?" 

This is aggravating. God, how long have I ignored you when others brought you up in conversation? How many times have I done the exact same thing? Forgive me, Father! Let me always be eager to speak of you and discuss your character with others! Lord, it is irksome that as I grow with you I can't talk to even my good friends about it. Am I doing it wrong? Or is this just part of the process? 

Monday, August 4, 2008

Hill Country

This is so much harder than I anticipated. Shame on me. 

So God, I just want to clear up some things with you. You see, I've never been to the hill country before. This is new terrain for me. I mean, I've been living on the beach my whole life, and I thought that life would be easy with you. Sure, some days it rained, and sometimes my house got a little bit flooded out, but I was so used to sunny and 75. Everyone around me agreed with me. They told me that the walk wouldn't be easy, but it seemed pretty easy to me. And it didn't look difficult for them either. So we were all together, on the beach, telling each other it would be hard to walk but never actually walking. We thought we were walking, but we weren't. We were just talking about it. 

Then one day you sent me a letter inviting me to stay with you for a while in the hill country. At first I was confused, because I thought you lived on the beach. When I showed the letter to some of my neighbors, they sort of hemmed and hawed about it and shrugged it off. So I packed up and left. My neighbors, I think they thought I was sort of weird to leave the beach. But I wanted to see if you really did live in the hill country. 

It took me a while to get started. The road was uneven and unpaved. I had to pass some friends as I left, and it was awkward. I didn't want to leave them. I wanted them with me, but I couldn't force them to come with me, because they were happy at the beach. Maybe you sent them letters, too, telling them to stay there. I don't know. I still don't want them behind. But I don't know what you're doing with them, and I can't question you. So I keep walking. 

Now that I'm walking, it gets harder and harder. I've started to reach some of the foothills and I'm stumbling a little. It's weird out here, and disillusioning. I have to look twice at my surroundings because it's all unfamiliar to me. Every time I look back I trip over something in front of me on the road. And as I look ahead I see these terribly looming mountains. They scare me. Do you live in them? On top of them? This is so different from the beach. On the beach it was all flat land and I could see clearly all around me for miles. But now there are so many obstacles and my vision is limited. Sometimes I'll see other people traveling, and sometimes I'm even lucky enough to have some conversation with them, but they're on their own journey, and I'm on mine, and I understand that. 

Something I'm grappling with is the difficulty and humility this journey to your house requires. The concept that you want me to struggle is foreign to me. Having some one tell you that you are going to suffer for Christ is very different than actually suffering. It's like someone describing light to someone who has lived in the dark their whole life. It's not something you can describe; what would you say? Or trying to describe red to someone who is color blind. How would you do it? It's impossible to understand until you experience it. 

Yet perhaps, in that case, we suffer so that we may know You. How can we know You until we suffer like you? But at the same time, I look at people who have disorders, like my dad, or anorexia, or mental disabilities, or who are emotionally or physically abused, and I want to turn into a mass of tears and ask you "How can you let this person go through this? How is this helping? What happened to your compassion?"  I am unworthy to ask these questions, I know. Maybe if I had real faith I wouldn't ask. Maybe if I weren't so weak I could trust you more. I don't know anymore. I just keep walking and stretching my legs. I can tell I'm not in shape because it burns. Maybe I never was in shape. "No pain, no gain", right? Well, I'm exercising now, aren't I?

God, why do I keep failing people? And why have you made me so that I always take the fall for others? Why is it wrong to ask why? Why does it signify a lack of faith? Why am I ALWAYS wrong? Why do I always take the blame, and why does it feel sort of satisfying? 

"I need you like a hurricane
Thunder crashing wind and rain
To tear these walls down
I'm only yours now
I need you like a burning flame
A wildfire untamed
To burn these walls down
I'm only yours now
I'm only yours now."
   --"Hurricane" Jimmy Needham

(Please, don't leave thoughtless comments. Pray first.)

Oswald says:

The Brave Friendship of God
"He took the twelve aside..."—Luke 18:31

Oh, the bravery of God in trusting us! Do you say, "But He has been unwise to choose me, because there is nothing good in me and I have no value"? That is exactly why He chose you. As long as you think that you are of value to Him He cannot choose you, because you have purposes of your own to serve. But if you will allow Him to take you to the end of your own self-sufficiency, then he can choose you to go with Him "to Jerusalem" (Luke 18:31). And that will mean the fulfillment of purposes which He does not discuss with you. 

We tend to say that because a person has natural ability he will make a good Christian. It is not a matter of our equipment, but a matter of our poverty; not of what we bring with us, but of what God puts into us; not a matter of natural virtues, of strength of character, of knowledge, or of experience— all of that is of no avail in this concern. The only thing of value is being taken into the compelling purpose of God and being made His friends (1 Corinthians 1:26-31). God's friendship is with people who know their poverty. He can accomplish nothing with the person who thinks that he is of use to God. As Christians we are not here for our own purpose at all— we are here for the purpose of God, and the two are not the same. We do not know what God's compelling purpose is, but whatever happens, we must maintain our relationship with Him. We must never allow anything to damage our relationship with God, but if something does damage it, we must take the time to make it right again. The most important aspect of Christianity is not the work we do, but the relationship we maintain and the surrounding influence and qualities produced by that relationship. That is all God asks us to give our attention to, and it is the only thing that is continually under attack.