That book I mentioned previously, Carry On, Warrior, is essentially founded on my blogging motto--to be honest, to open up my life so that others might feel understood, accepted, and less alone. But that doesn't mean I share everything. There are still parts of myself that I hold back because I want to look put together and self-assured and fine. One of the biggest parts of my identity is my faith, and I want everyone always to think I've got that down pat, thank you very much.
But, I mean, I don't. I mentioned before that a symptom of depression/sadness for me is avoiding God. I've realized over the past couple weeks a few reasons why: I'm tired, and I think paying attention to God will only make me more tired. I feel stupid for even being depressed, because even though my life is changing, it's not like, cataclysmic. So I feel stupid for ignoring God, and I imagine that He's just frowning down on me, waiting for me to get my shit together, rolling his eyes over my privileged problems when there children dying of AIDS and people who don't know Jesus. I know, theologically, that God is not like that. But, well, there's theology for you. Not so useful in your head unless it penetrates your heart.
All of this is buildup to an epiphany I had today.
I've been having a really hard time going to church (for the above reasons, plus people! Depression brings out the introvert in me, and I just don't want to be friendly and peppy, ugh). I've gone the last two weeks, though, despite trying to snooze through my alarm and repeating to myself while driving there, "I could turn around. I don't have to do this. I'll just go home."
When I finally dragged myself out of the house this morning, ten minutes after I should have left, I sent up a mumbly prayer something like, "I'm sorry I don't want to go to church, God. But I'm going, because I think it will make you happy. I think it will be good for me. I know You gave us the church because we need each other, so I'm going, alright? I totally admit that I'm trying to win Your favor even though You always love me. Ugh."
Then as I was driving, I realized I've been treating God as a therapist lately. I've been sharing all my anxieties and worries and sadnesses. We talk a lot. But it's always about me. As I was about to turn onto 75, I realized I haven't praised God lately. And I immediately followed up that realization with, "Well, I don't really think You deserve to be praised."
That made me cry. Because it's pretty prideful to tell the God who created you and sustains you that well, I don't think you deserve praise. That's one of those smite-me moments, added to the fact that I really do like God, and I'm pissed at myself for being so apathetic toward Him.
I wasn't ready to praise Him, even with the knowledge that this was my deficiency, and thankfully, God didn't press the matter. This was one of those times when, who knows what was going on in my head. Maybe it was all my own neurons firing, thinking thoughts and putting words in God's mouth. But I just thought, "Jesus saved you." Nothing else. I didn't feel obligated to thank God for any of the thousands of blessings that I'm ungrateful for. He cut right to the heart of all matters. I frowned, trying to think of a way to not praise God for the saving work of His Son, but I couldn't. So I grudgingly said, "Thank you. That was...pretty awesome." And I kept driving to church.
When I got to Trinity, every song was about Jesus dying for us, saving us, promising us life. No feel good "I love God!" songs. Nothing sentimental or sappy. It was just truth, just this one central truth, over and over. So even though I still felt apathetic, and I'm still nowhere near a healthy relationship with God, I feel. Understood. God knows my pain, and maybe He's even allowing me to sit in it. He won't fix everything, and life will continue to be hard, but my soul is safe with Him. And that's all I need to cling to, so I guess I will, and I'll praise God for that with a tiny whisper that is all I have to give.
Your thinking reminded me of our current Sunday School subject, Job. I am teaching for Chuck Crider this coming Sunday, and putting together my lesson plan, which is Chapters 29, 30 and 31. (Never mind what my opinion is of trying to cover three chapters in 45 minutes!)
ReplyDeleteChapter 29 is a review of his former state of happiness, Chapter 30 is a lament over the loss of everything and Chapter 31 is his final protestation of innocence. Job denies all the listed sins, but still gives loyalty to God as his Lord. Then Job “signs” the document and speaks no more. So I decided to summarize what we have learned so far. Here goes:
Job at this point has learned that his theology is too small for his God. That is true of many of us. We think we have got God boxed in and we understand how he is going to act. And just as surely as we do, God is going to do something that will not fit our theology. He is greater than any study of man's about Him.
He is a loving God, but His love will take forms of expression that we do not understand, and we must face that fact. Job had his faith in the rule of God, but now at last he has begun to reach out tremblingly to exercise faith in the God who rules.
Job's view of himself is inadequate. He has been defending himself; he has been going back and thinking of all his good deeds. We all do this. When trouble strikes we think, "Why should this happen to me? I haven't done anything wrong. Why should I be subjected to this torment? God is failing me".
Job's self-vindication explains the silence of God. Why does God not help Job? Because he is not yet willing to listen. As long as a man is defending himself, God will not defend him. As long as Job thinks he has some righteous ground on which to stand, God's silence remains. Works righteousness might work in a secular world, but not with God. He is so much bigger than that.
We cannot justify ourselves to God, we are sinners. Only Christ through His sacrifice can make us holy before God. Only Christ can atone for our sins.
I think almost all of us have a theology which is too small for our God. We say he is magnificent and all powerful but then box Him in with human rules and expectations. Martin Luther once said "Let God be God!' Good advice.
Tricia, your blog just gave me a chance to vent a bit...thank you! Now take God out of that box. As you said, your soul is safe with Him.
Oh, I like this very much. I'm always in favor of being reminded that God is bigger than our theology (a better, more convicting phrase for me than "bigger than any box" because I'm studying theology, but it won't be enough), but I hadn't thought much about how our ideas of OURSELVES is also inadequate. Mmm, that's very good. I'm going to be thinking about all this for a long time.
DeleteI'm glad you are teaching Job, and learning things, and sharing things! Job is one of my favorite books of the Bible-very complicated, which is always what I'm drawn to.