It's interesting (and completely understandable) to me how people start asking questions about God's whereabouts when tragedy strikes. It's then that our images of God so often turn out to be incomplete and unhelpful. If my idea of a God, of THE God, is one who keeps everyone safe and alive and comfortable, then what happens when the poop hits the fan?
What I'm suggesting is this: what if it's not God that fails in the hard times, but our understanding of God that falls short? A quick look around shows that God is clearly not a God who keeps us comfortable or safe or even alive. God is not like that, and believing in God that way does not keep anyone alive, safe, or comfortable.
But what if that's okay? What if God can be a God who doesn't make everything okay but still be a God who loves us? Would it be enough for God to be a God who walks with us, who weeps with us, who laughs and celebrates with us? Is the only God worth believing in a God who saves us from all harm and sadness?
If you're like me, then the more you think along these lines, the less comfortable you become with the kind of God that makes everything ok all the time. You start to notice how bad a job that God does, and how unfair the criteria seem to be. Why does this person get a "miracle" and that one doesn't? Why didn't God stop that man from shooting up the theater? Why did he "save" this girl once but not again?
The more I try to understand God, the more complex and simpler it becomes: God is love. Love doesn't fix things, love doesn't save us from harm, love doesn't make everything okay, love doesn't erase suffering. Love loves. God is love, and Love...
...is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant
or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful;
it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth.
It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.
Showing posts with label God. Show all posts
Showing posts with label God. Show all posts
Saturday, July 21, 2012
Monday, October 10, 2011
God as Perfect Parent
There's a thing that I can't get off my mind. It came to me on 9/11, at Mass in Maine, near my hometown. It's not exactly 9/11 related, but I got to thinking when the priest, during the homily, asked "where was God that day?"
You know, too, that this has been a year full of bad news, for people that I know and love. It's been the kind of year that makes a person wrestle with her faith. I never did lose faith but all along, since almost exactly a year ago, I have had a vague understanding that I was coming to know God in a whole new way.
Anyway, I was in Mass that day, thinking about how God works, and this is what came to me:
I am not a parent but I have seen this happen, so maybe you have too. Picture a young child, a toddler, who's pinched his finger. When little kids pinch their fingers, they cry like their heart is permanently broken. Their pain is REAL! I know, because I've had my finger pinched too. This child's mother responds by holding her child and soothing him. She knows that the child's pain is real, because she's experienced it too. She doesn't do much to fix the pain though, and she doesn't remove every possible pinching thing from her child's existence. She has the perspective of many years. She has a whole lifetime of experience to know that, although the pain is real, it's temporary. Seen in terms of a lifetime, that pain is practically nothing!
Here's another thing I've seen. Teenagers get their hearts broken, and feel like it's the end of the world. I remember so many teenage girls over my years in ministry, who were absolutely crushed by some rejection, some hurtful thing that a boy did. I know that their pain is REAL, because I've experienced that pain myself. There is nothing you can do for a heart-broken teenage girl but listen to her and love her through it. I know things will get better and that the world is not better because I have the perspective of time. I almost wouldn't even want a teenage girl to go through her teenage years without having this experience, however truly painful it is.
So, it occurred to me, if the experience of a lifetime helps me have perspective about the pain that we all feel in youth, then how must the experience of ETERNITY give God perspective about the pain we all feel in life? Maybe this explains, in a way, why God doesn't intervene the way we would want Him to, when we're in trouble. Like the toddler, or the teenager, we turn to our parent and beg them to take the pain away and never let us be hurt again. But the parent, even if He could, doesn't. He knows that however real our pain is, it's temporary. Not just temporary, but God knows that in terms of a eternity, our life-time pain is practically nothing.
We can't believe it because the pain is so REAL. It's hard to imagine in the moment, or the lifetime, that this amount of pure and real pain will ever be dwarfed by anything.
God knows our pain is real, because God has experienced pain. And God knows that we can't see beyond our very real pain enough to say "aw heck, this pain is really insignificant, compared to eternity!" It's not our job to have that perspective, but it is God's.
So if this is true, then I know it has implications for my prayer life, and my relationship with God. I can stop asking God to fix things because I know God doesn't do that. It's not a question of whether God could fix things, and whether God won't fix things, but that God doesn't have to fix things for me, any more than a parent would splint a pinched finger or home-school their teenager so as to avoid her having any romantic relationships. God simply loves me through my very real pain and knows that I'll figure it out when I have more perspective.
How, then, do I pray? I think... we can look at our young people again. The toddler runs to his mother and cries, accepts her comforting. The teenage girl does a lot of crying too, and turns to someone who will love her through it (this is where Youth Ministers earn their stars!). When we are hurt in this lifetime, we run to the arms of our God, who almost wouldn't even want us not to have this experience... who knows that in terms of eternity, this is so temporary... who loves us through.
(I'm not totally settled on this new theology, I'm still mulling it over. But it's giving me a new way of thinking about God that I'm kind of liking. It's probably heresy. I dunno. Don't call the pope just yet, let's work this through a little more.)
You know, too, that this has been a year full of bad news, for people that I know and love. It's been the kind of year that makes a person wrestle with her faith. I never did lose faith but all along, since almost exactly a year ago, I have had a vague understanding that I was coming to know God in a whole new way.
Anyway, I was in Mass that day, thinking about how God works, and this is what came to me:
I am not a parent but I have seen this happen, so maybe you have too. Picture a young child, a toddler, who's pinched his finger. When little kids pinch their fingers, they cry like their heart is permanently broken. Their pain is REAL! I know, because I've had my finger pinched too. This child's mother responds by holding her child and soothing him. She knows that the child's pain is real, because she's experienced it too. She doesn't do much to fix the pain though, and she doesn't remove every possible pinching thing from her child's existence. She has the perspective of many years. She has a whole lifetime of experience to know that, although the pain is real, it's temporary. Seen in terms of a lifetime, that pain is practically nothing!
Here's another thing I've seen. Teenagers get their hearts broken, and feel like it's the end of the world. I remember so many teenage girls over my years in ministry, who were absolutely crushed by some rejection, some hurtful thing that a boy did. I know that their pain is REAL, because I've experienced that pain myself. There is nothing you can do for a heart-broken teenage girl but listen to her and love her through it. I know things will get better and that the world is not better because I have the perspective of time. I almost wouldn't even want a teenage girl to go through her teenage years without having this experience, however truly painful it is.
So, it occurred to me, if the experience of a lifetime helps me have perspective about the pain that we all feel in youth, then how must the experience of ETERNITY give God perspective about the pain we all feel in life? Maybe this explains, in a way, why God doesn't intervene the way we would want Him to, when we're in trouble. Like the toddler, or the teenager, we turn to our parent and beg them to take the pain away and never let us be hurt again. But the parent, even if He could, doesn't. He knows that however real our pain is, it's temporary. Not just temporary, but God knows that in terms of a eternity, our life-time pain is practically nothing.
We can't believe it because the pain is so REAL. It's hard to imagine in the moment, or the lifetime, that this amount of pure and real pain will ever be dwarfed by anything.
God knows our pain is real, because God has experienced pain. And God knows that we can't see beyond our very real pain enough to say "aw heck, this pain is really insignificant, compared to eternity!" It's not our job to have that perspective, but it is God's.
So if this is true, then I know it has implications for my prayer life, and my relationship with God. I can stop asking God to fix things because I know God doesn't do that. It's not a question of whether God could fix things, and whether God won't fix things, but that God doesn't have to fix things for me, any more than a parent would splint a pinched finger or home-school their teenager so as to avoid her having any romantic relationships. God simply loves me through my very real pain and knows that I'll figure it out when I have more perspective.
How, then, do I pray? I think... we can look at our young people again. The toddler runs to his mother and cries, accepts her comforting. The teenage girl does a lot of crying too, and turns to someone who will love her through it (this is where Youth Ministers earn their stars!). When we are hurt in this lifetime, we run to the arms of our God, who almost wouldn't even want us not to have this experience... who knows that in terms of eternity, this is so temporary... who loves us through.
(I'm not totally settled on this new theology, I'm still mulling it over. But it's giving me a new way of thinking about God that I'm kind of liking. It's probably heresy. I dunno. Don't call the pope just yet, let's work this through a little more.)
Tuesday, June 07, 2011
Mmmmmm, that feels great.
It's ten years, officially, and so far so good. Our anniversary trip was flat-out wonderful- we had a great time in beautiful Mystic, CT eating great food, staying at a lovely (and quirky) inn, people-watching at Foxwoods (we didn't play even one slot machine!) and driving the countryside. Even the parts of the trip where we were just resting or reading or exploring were fun and I loved each minute of it. We had a delicious and decadent (for us!) dinner on our anniversary night. As great as it was, I was happy to come home to our comfy place and see the kitties, who missed us terribly, it was clear.
On the last day in CT, we got up and went to a local spa for a massage! Well, two massages. One each! And this leads me to my point for this blog entry, as I had a big religious epiphany during my massage. My massage-therapist was a lovely, soothing woman who made me feel comfortable, relaxed, and pampered. Her movements were never harsh, even when she was working on my tough spots. I was compliant and happy to have her move even my arms and legs when needed, and I just closed my eyes and floated along. I thought silently, "massage-therapist-lady, I love you. I will turn in whichever direction you move me, and I want to be the best massage client ever, because you, to me, are wonderful." And then it hit me, this is what we want God to be. We want God to be soothing and comforting and always making us feel better, never allowing us to feel pain. We want angelic music in the background and we want God to just gently turn us in the right direction. And we'll go! We'll gladly go limp and let God do the work. If it were only like that, we'd be compliant and trusting, and we'd want to be the best followers ever, because it is all so lovely and comfortable.
Oh, but my friends, this is not the way God works.
Tonight at LEX we talked about this Sunday's Pentecost Gospel reading- it's a quick one, from John (20:19-23) where Jesus appears to his freaked-out disciples after rising from the dead. We noticed that Jesus appears with the wounds from his crucifixion, where we supposed (being God and all) He could have chosen to appear with a nicely healed body. Why did he still have those wounds? We guessed that maybe Jesus was showing that He knows that we too, like Him, will suffer. That pain is part of life, and that death is part of resurrection. He suffered, but then triumphed over suffering. Pain is real, and true, and it exists, God knows. Massages are nice, (really nice) but they're not real life. Life is walking, sore muscles, working, suffering and victory. Massages, and vacations, are temporary. Life goes on, wounds and all.
I don't know how God works, but I know how God doesn't work! (still, it would be nice, wouldn't it?)
On the last day in CT, we got up and went to a local spa for a massage! Well, two massages. One each! And this leads me to my point for this blog entry, as I had a big religious epiphany during my massage. My massage-therapist was a lovely, soothing woman who made me feel comfortable, relaxed, and pampered. Her movements were never harsh, even when she was working on my tough spots. I was compliant and happy to have her move even my arms and legs when needed, and I just closed my eyes and floated along. I thought silently, "massage-therapist-lady, I love you. I will turn in whichever direction you move me, and I want to be the best massage client ever, because you, to me, are wonderful." And then it hit me, this is what we want God to be. We want God to be soothing and comforting and always making us feel better, never allowing us to feel pain. We want angelic music in the background and we want God to just gently turn us in the right direction. And we'll go! We'll gladly go limp and let God do the work. If it were only like that, we'd be compliant and trusting, and we'd want to be the best followers ever, because it is all so lovely and comfortable.
Oh, but my friends, this is not the way God works.
Tonight at LEX we talked about this Sunday's Pentecost Gospel reading- it's a quick one, from John (20:19-23) where Jesus appears to his freaked-out disciples after rising from the dead. We noticed that Jesus appears with the wounds from his crucifixion, where we supposed (being God and all) He could have chosen to appear with a nicely healed body. Why did he still have those wounds? We guessed that maybe Jesus was showing that He knows that we too, like Him, will suffer. That pain is part of life, and that death is part of resurrection. He suffered, but then triumphed over suffering. Pain is real, and true, and it exists, God knows. Massages are nice, (really nice) but they're not real life. Life is walking, sore muscles, working, suffering and victory. Massages, and vacations, are temporary. Life goes on, wounds and all.
I don't know how God works, but I know how God doesn't work! (still, it would be nice, wouldn't it?)
Friday, December 03, 2010
Two Unrelated Thoughts (and that's it for the day)
It occurred to me this morning that the older I get, and the more I learn, the more easily I can see the connective tissue between things that happen in life. I had lots of good examples of what I mean by this, back when I was thinking about it in the shower, but now the one that is crowding my brain is this; how we effect people beyond anything we can understand, without ever knowing.
I heard once that Charles Darwin once heard the screams of a slave being beaten, and because of that, was inspired to research the sameness between all people, to work against racism, to change all of history. How about that, huh? Without ever knowing it, the suffering this one woman experienced echoed in the heart of a man who changed so much, for everyone, across time. She never knew it! That's what blows my mind.
On another topic, my cats are getting old. Zarley, the oldest one, has always been a little "special" but now she's special and old. For the past few months, she hasn't totally been able to recognize Pip, her only child and lifelong (Pip's life-long) roommate. Now every time she catches sight of Pip she growls and hisses. Pip hisses back, because who wouldn't?
Zarley needs periodic snuggles. She stands on the ironing board in the kitchen, and while I walk around, she yells at us and waves her paw at me, and paces back and forth, and yells and yells until I stop and turn to her. She then practically (for a 16 year old cat) leaps into my arms and snuggles against my shoulder. After a few minutes, she's satisfied and I can put her down and she'll settle into a nap. But she needs that snuggle.
Sometimes, especially in the kitchen, I'm busy! I'm cooking or cleaning or doing homework or some such thing, and I don't have time to stop, but she yells and yells and I can't not stop and give her a snuggle. I'm always glad I did, because a snuggle is always as good for me as it is for Zarley.
I think my relationship with God is similar. I often don't stop and turn to God until He waves his paw at me and yells and yells and yells. When I do finally turn to Him, it's so good for me. I don't know if God needs time with me like Zarley does, but He knows I need time with Him.
That's it for deep thinking for me today. I'm going to spend the rest of the night making meatloaf, peanut-butter popcorn, and snuggling. Perfection.
I heard once that Charles Darwin once heard the screams of a slave being beaten, and because of that, was inspired to research the sameness between all people, to work against racism, to change all of history. How about that, huh? Without ever knowing it, the suffering this one woman experienced echoed in the heart of a man who changed so much, for everyone, across time. She never knew it! That's what blows my mind.
On another topic, my cats are getting old. Zarley, the oldest one, has always been a little "special" but now she's special and old. For the past few months, she hasn't totally been able to recognize Pip, her only child and lifelong (Pip's life-long) roommate. Now every time she catches sight of Pip she growls and hisses. Pip hisses back, because who wouldn't?
Zarley needs periodic snuggles. She stands on the ironing board in the kitchen, and while I walk around, she yells at us and waves her paw at me, and paces back and forth, and yells and yells until I stop and turn to her. She then practically (for a 16 year old cat) leaps into my arms and snuggles against my shoulder. After a few minutes, she's satisfied and I can put her down and she'll settle into a nap. But she needs that snuggle.
Sometimes, especially in the kitchen, I'm busy! I'm cooking or cleaning or doing homework or some such thing, and I don't have time to stop, but she yells and yells and I can't not stop and give her a snuggle. I'm always glad I did, because a snuggle is always as good for me as it is for Zarley.
I think my relationship with God is similar. I often don't stop and turn to God until He waves his paw at me and yells and yells and yells. When I do finally turn to Him, it's so good for me. I don't know if God needs time with me like Zarley does, but He knows I need time with Him.
That's it for deep thinking for me today. I'm going to spend the rest of the night making meatloaf, peanut-butter popcorn, and snuggling. Perfection.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Love love love
When I was a teenager, all I wanted in the world was to fall in love and for someone to fall in love with me. I remember that every time I had some kind of relationship with a boy, I looked for symptoms of being in love, very much like I do now when I'm afraid that I'm coming down with the flu. Is my throat sore? Does my stomach feel funny? Why am I so tired, IS THIS THE FLU???
As a teenager, I knew all about love, what it looked like in the movies and on tv (Joanie Loves Chachi!) and what it was supposed to feel like. I think all teenagers are similar- especially girls, if they're like me- LOVE was the language of my teen years. I talk a lot about love when I describe having a relationship with God to teenagers now. I tell them that when I found out God loved me already, it felt to me like i was falling in love with Him. I suddenly wanted to know more about Him, I wanted to spend as much time as possible with Him, I thought about Him all the time. Love songs on the radio became hymns. I wanted my friends to know Him.
When I teach about evangelization, and about living in the Kingdom, I tell people we should be like people in love- wanting to tell the world about our new special One, glowing from the happiness of knowing Him. I say, "when you're at a restaurant or at a hotel, you can pick out the honeymooners, can't you? You can see it written all over them!" I say, maybe this is what kingdom-living looks like- maybe we should glow from the feeling of loving and being so loved.
What's funny is we spend very little time at church talking about God's overwhelming love for us. Oh it's mentioned, but sort of in the context of theology. Those of us from MY generation are mocked because we were catechized just post-Vatican II. Religious educators scorn "oh for you it was all crafts and 'Jesus looooves youuu'" as if that is the worst message one could teach or be taught about Jesus.
I wonder how different things would be in our Church if more people know about what it feels like to be in love with God? I wonder how many people would be surprised and changed- converted, if you will- to find out how much God loves them.
PS, God loves you!
As a teenager, I knew all about love, what it looked like in the movies and on tv (Joanie Loves Chachi!) and what it was supposed to feel like. I think all teenagers are similar- especially girls, if they're like me- LOVE was the language of my teen years. I talk a lot about love when I describe having a relationship with God to teenagers now. I tell them that when I found out God loved me already, it felt to me like i was falling in love with Him. I suddenly wanted to know more about Him, I wanted to spend as much time as possible with Him, I thought about Him all the time. Love songs on the radio became hymns. I wanted my friends to know Him.
When I teach about evangelization, and about living in the Kingdom, I tell people we should be like people in love- wanting to tell the world about our new special One, glowing from the happiness of knowing Him. I say, "when you're at a restaurant or at a hotel, you can pick out the honeymooners, can't you? You can see it written all over them!" I say, maybe this is what kingdom-living looks like- maybe we should glow from the feeling of loving and being so loved.
What's funny is we spend very little time at church talking about God's overwhelming love for us. Oh it's mentioned, but sort of in the context of theology. Those of us from MY generation are mocked because we were catechized just post-Vatican II. Religious educators scorn "oh for you it was all crafts and 'Jesus looooves youuu'" as if that is the worst message one could teach or be taught about Jesus.
I wonder how different things would be in our Church if more people know about what it feels like to be in love with God? I wonder how many people would be surprised and changed- converted, if you will- to find out how much God loves them.
PS, God loves you!
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
1 Cor. 13:9-12
When I was little I thought countries declared war- now I know that's not true. Now I know that leaders of countries declare war, and people do the dirty work for them.I hear about the hatred of America and think "but... I wasn't FOR this war! I don't WANT to be at war! Don't hate me!"
I also thought that adults didn't lie, or pick their noses- turns out I was wrong about those too. (Let's face it, fingers can do what kleenex can't!)
I thought that song "Paradise By the Dashboard Lights" was about baseball- and I thought, in a baseball game, that a "Walk" meant that the batter hit the ball so far out of the park that he could walk around the bases without worrying about getting tagged out.
I thought that plain, ground, crumbled hamburger was yummy.
I thought thirty was Totally Grown-Up.
I've learned a lot since then- I was way off on a lot of the things I believed as a kid! But, in retrospect, I'm glad that I had those kid-beliefs before learning the Truth. The things that I thought then were a nice, cozy foundation for the truth I was to take in later on in life.
I've been thinking about my image of God, in light of the CS Lewis book I read- he said that your image of God needs to be smashed over and over, so it can grow. He said that if you forever settle on a high-school or childhood image of God, He won't be big enough to handle your grown-up problems- meaning you'll not be able to trust Him because you've limited the size He can be in your world.
When I was little, God looked and felt a lot like a Grandfather. In high school I fell head over heels in love with God- He was a lover (not in the dirty way!), a partner, a friend, a sympathetic confidante. When my faith in the Church was at crisis point, He was like Puppy, my old stuffed dog that I slept with for far too many years as a kid- comforting, stable, grounding. Now He is like a wise professor. For a long time I yearned for the God I envisioned in high school, but now I know I was looking at God the wrong way- in a way that He and I had outgrown.
But I'm glad I had those kid-beliefs before learning the ever-evolving Truth of who God is. My relationship with God, like so many of my most important relationships, is cumulative. One new image doesn't exactly wipe out the last. God didn't totally stop being Grandpa, or Puppy, or my sympathetic friend.
I kind of can't wait to see Who He will be next.
I also thought that adults didn't lie, or pick their noses- turns out I was wrong about those too. (Let's face it, fingers can do what kleenex can't!)
I thought that song "Paradise By the Dashboard Lights" was about baseball- and I thought, in a baseball game, that a "Walk" meant that the batter hit the ball so far out of the park that he could walk around the bases without worrying about getting tagged out.
I thought that plain, ground, crumbled hamburger was yummy.
I thought thirty was Totally Grown-Up.
I've learned a lot since then- I was way off on a lot of the things I believed as a kid! But, in retrospect, I'm glad that I had those kid-beliefs before learning the Truth. The things that I thought then were a nice, cozy foundation for the truth I was to take in later on in life.
I've been thinking about my image of God, in light of the CS Lewis book I read- he said that your image of God needs to be smashed over and over, so it can grow. He said that if you forever settle on a high-school or childhood image of God, He won't be big enough to handle your grown-up problems- meaning you'll not be able to trust Him because you've limited the size He can be in your world.
When I was little, God looked and felt a lot like a Grandfather. In high school I fell head over heels in love with God- He was a lover (not in the dirty way!), a partner, a friend, a sympathetic confidante. When my faith in the Church was at crisis point, He was like Puppy, my old stuffed dog that I slept with for far too many years as a kid- comforting, stable, grounding. Now He is like a wise professor. For a long time I yearned for the God I envisioned in high school, but now I know I was looking at God the wrong way- in a way that He and I had outgrown.
But I'm glad I had those kid-beliefs before learning the ever-evolving Truth of who God is. My relationship with God, like so many of my most important relationships, is cumulative. One new image doesn't exactly wipe out the last. God didn't totally stop being Grandpa, or Puppy, or my sympathetic friend.
I kind of can't wait to see Who He will be next.
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Two new thoughts about God
I was noticing the face I make when I see a baby- when I catch their eyes, I make a big happy surprised kind of face like "Wow!!! You are wonderful!! HIIIIIII!!!!!" I've seen a lot of people make that face. There's something about a baby that makes people feel so happy to see them.
I think that the faces we make with babies are a reflection of the way God feels when He sees us in prayer.
Tonight at Mass a little tot was sitting in his stroller diagonally across the aisle ahead of me, and I caught his eye and smiled at him. Soon he was smiling back, then he started to laugh. Then I started to laugh, and everyone around me smiled, and he smiled and laughed more. It was so fun, hearing his little belly laugh echoing through the big church. Everyone around him, we couldn't stop smiling along with him. And I thought to myself, I bet this is how God feels too- I bet He loves it when we smile, and smiles along with us. And in the same way, (I can't help myself- when people cry, I cry...) I believe he cries when we cry too.
I think Jesus gave us the answers to so many questions when he told us to think of God as "Abba", Father- even if our own earthly father's weren't great, we all can identify with the concept of what a perfect father should be. And I'm learning more and more about being a child of God, loved like a father loves His baby. It's a good feeling.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
pain is pain
I remember when I was a social worker, a woman in my cube-area complained to me that she was annoyed to have to see a priest to talk about marriage. She wanted to know what that priest could ever know about marriage for crying out loud.
I reminded her that we were childless, yet our job was getting parents to raise their children better. I guess you don't have to experience everything to know the difference between what works and what doesn't.
I worked at a residential program long ago, with adolescent boys. One time an adult said to a kid "I know you feel this way..." and the boy, enraged, said "YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW I FEEL!!!" But the man who was confronting him said "listen- pain is pain! You have pain, I have pain, we both have pain. I know how it feels to be in pain. I can help you through it." I've thought a lot about that over the years- is it true that pain is pain, and joy is joy, and fear is fear, and our experiences of those feelings aren't so unique as we may think they are?
I have had a fairly easy life so far... more or less unscathed by serious tragedy, I still think I am a pretty empathic person. Do I have to have lost a loved one to know how that must feel to a person? I think that maybe we all react to pain in different ways- in whatever ways work for us- but maybe fundamentally we are connected by our similar feelings on a basic level.
I may have mentioned this before, but one Saturday we were listening to This American Life, and they played a piece of Julia Sweeney's one woman show, "Letting Go of God". One of the things that reverberated in my head from that show was Julia saying "Jesus had a pretty bad day for your sins." Her point was that since Jesus' suffering had been quick, lasting only one day, and hadn't, in her opinion, been as long or awful as her dying brother's suffering, that somehow it didn't really count. It wasn't good enough.
I've thought often about what I might say to Julia Sweeney if I ever ran into her. People write to her all the time trying to convince her back from atheism. I think I'd say that Jesus did a good thing by experiencing suffering in a most human way- physical pain and rejection and betrayal from those he trusted most- and that to me, his suffering didn't have to match mine, or whoever's, because pain is pain, and Jesus felt pain like I do. I appreciate him experiencing pain that he didn't have to experience, so that he'd know how I feel when I suffer.
That idea, that pain is pain, it should be something that unites us- and I think Jesus saw it that way. HOW we suffer isn't as important, overall, as how we deal with it- and because we all know pain, we can help each other through it.
I reminded her that we were childless, yet our job was getting parents to raise their children better. I guess you don't have to experience everything to know the difference between what works and what doesn't.
I worked at a residential program long ago, with adolescent boys. One time an adult said to a kid "I know you feel this way..." and the boy, enraged, said "YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW I FEEL!!!" But the man who was confronting him said "listen- pain is pain! You have pain, I have pain, we both have pain. I know how it feels to be in pain. I can help you through it." I've thought a lot about that over the years- is it true that pain is pain, and joy is joy, and fear is fear, and our experiences of those feelings aren't so unique as we may think they are?
I have had a fairly easy life so far... more or less unscathed by serious tragedy, I still think I am a pretty empathic person. Do I have to have lost a loved one to know how that must feel to a person? I think that maybe we all react to pain in different ways- in whatever ways work for us- but maybe fundamentally we are connected by our similar feelings on a basic level.
I may have mentioned this before, but one Saturday we were listening to This American Life, and they played a piece of Julia Sweeney's one woman show, "Letting Go of God". One of the things that reverberated in my head from that show was Julia saying "Jesus had a pretty bad day for your sins." Her point was that since Jesus' suffering had been quick, lasting only one day, and hadn't, in her opinion, been as long or awful as her dying brother's suffering, that somehow it didn't really count. It wasn't good enough.
I've thought often about what I might say to Julia Sweeney if I ever ran into her. People write to her all the time trying to convince her back from atheism. I think I'd say that Jesus did a good thing by experiencing suffering in a most human way- physical pain and rejection and betrayal from those he trusted most- and that to me, his suffering didn't have to match mine, or whoever's, because pain is pain, and Jesus felt pain like I do. I appreciate him experiencing pain that he didn't have to experience, so that he'd know how I feel when I suffer.
That idea, that pain is pain, it should be something that unites us- and I think Jesus saw it that way. HOW we suffer isn't as important, overall, as how we deal with it- and because we all know pain, we can help each other through it.
Thursday, March 06, 2008
It's just that...
The other day I heard a great quote on NPR that I can't get out of my head;
"If God had wanted us to fly he wouldn't have given us the railroad."
It begs the question; how involved are we in making our own way? How much can we attribute to God's will? It's something we've discussed at the Church often- how people blame God for their sadness/hurt/disappointment. I have firsthand experience of people who glibly chirped "it must have been God's will!!!" when they heard of our miscarriages.
I am realizing what an easy trap it is to fall into- the blaming of God- especially since there's nowhere to look to find the answer to why-bad-things-happen-to-good-people. (except, I guess, the famous book... maybe I should read that?)
So what control does God have of our daily lives? I read a quote once that described God as a loving shepherd with a hole in his fence but who refused to patch it. That just sounds like a dumb shepherd to me. Is free will really that important? Wouldn't a flock of happy, safe sheep be worth patching the stupid fence?
I've heard a lot of great analogies for how it all works- my friend Paula describes God like a GPS unit that gives us directions (and it's our decision to follow them or not) and I like to imagine it's like one of those choose-your-own-adventure books. We choose what page to flip to, but ultimately, God wrote the whole book.
But hey, I don't know. Do we try to swim, or pick up our feet and float wherever God's current moves us?
"If God had wanted us to fly he wouldn't have given us the railroad."
It begs the question; how involved are we in making our own way? How much can we attribute to God's will? It's something we've discussed at the Church often- how people blame God for their sadness/hurt/disappointment. I have firsthand experience of people who glibly chirped "it must have been God's will!!!" when they heard of our miscarriages.
I am realizing what an easy trap it is to fall into- the blaming of God- especially since there's nowhere to look to find the answer to why-bad-things-happen-to-good-people. (except, I guess, the famous book... maybe I should read that?)
So what control does God have of our daily lives? I read a quote once that described God as a loving shepherd with a hole in his fence but who refused to patch it. That just sounds like a dumb shepherd to me. Is free will really that important? Wouldn't a flock of happy, safe sheep be worth patching the stupid fence?
I've heard a lot of great analogies for how it all works- my friend Paula describes God like a GPS unit that gives us directions (and it's our decision to follow them or not) and I like to imagine it's like one of those choose-your-own-adventure books. We choose what page to flip to, but ultimately, God wrote the whole book.
But hey, I don't know. Do we try to swim, or pick up our feet and float wherever God's current moves us?
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Fresh Err
Tonight on my way home from work I listened to Fresh Air on the radio. Tonight's guests were a father and son who both have recently written books. The son's book is called Tweak- Growing Up on Methamphetamines and the father's is called Beautiful Boy. It was a pretty interesting conversation, but the part of the interview that was the most intriguing to me was when they were asked about the role of "God talk" in treatment programs. The son was talking about how hard it is to be an atheist in programs where, for instance, one of the fundamental ideas is "let g0-let God."
The father, also an atheist, said that early on at an Al-Anon meeting, someone told him that by the end of the process (does he mean the al-anon process, or his son's addiction?) he would believe in God.
Terry Gross asked him if that was true, and he said no. He never did come to believe in God.
But, he said, he did begin to believe in prayer.
Terry said something like "what's the point in praying when you don't believe you're praying TO someone?" This made him think- he said he wasn't really sure, but maybe he was chanting to himself "heal my son. Help my son" to keep his sanity. Maybe he was praying just in case there was someone out there listening.
I wonder if there's something deep within all of us that just has no choice but to acknowledge God's existence when we are at our most helpless points. Somehow, in spite of our logic and need for proof of things, at our core maybe there's something that reminds us to whom we belong.
Someone asked me recently what my "core belief" about God is. If I had to name it, I guess it's that I believe God is bigger than we are- bigger than we can even fathom. More forgiving, more powerful, more loving, more... big. When we come to the limit of what we believe possible, God can do more. I think we tend to put limits on God because we can't imagine that he's too loving to be fair, too forgiving to be punishing. And when we believe God is absent, He is still there present, if not in our hearts and minds, definitely in our souls. Maybe that's what drives the unbeliever to pray to someone whom they "know" does not exist.
The father, also an atheist, said that early on at an Al-Anon meeting, someone told him that by the end of the process (does he mean the al-anon process, or his son's addiction?) he would believe in God.
Terry Gross asked him if that was true, and he said no. He never did come to believe in God.
But, he said, he did begin to believe in prayer.
Terry said something like "what's the point in praying when you don't believe you're praying TO someone?" This made him think- he said he wasn't really sure, but maybe he was chanting to himself "heal my son. Help my son" to keep his sanity. Maybe he was praying just in case there was someone out there listening.
I wonder if there's something deep within all of us that just has no choice but to acknowledge God's existence when we are at our most helpless points. Somehow, in spite of our logic and need for proof of things, at our core maybe there's something that reminds us to whom we belong.
Someone asked me recently what my "core belief" about God is. If I had to name it, I guess it's that I believe God is bigger than we are- bigger than we can even fathom. More forgiving, more powerful, more loving, more... big. When we come to the limit of what we believe possible, God can do more. I think we tend to put limits on God because we can't imagine that he's too loving to be fair, too forgiving to be punishing. And when we believe God is absent, He is still there present, if not in our hearts and minds, definitely in our souls. Maybe that's what drives the unbeliever to pray to someone whom they "know" does not exist.
Friday, February 22, 2008
epiphany o' the day
Tonight we're watching 20/20, it's one of those freaks-of-nature-for-our-entertainment shows, with a girl who has flipper-like legs and a family who inherits permanent insomnia. They're also featuring a couple of girls who have some kind of syndrome wherein they can't feel physical pain.
On the surface, this sounds like a cool deal, doesn't it?
But of course, these people suffer terrible effects from their disability. They burn themselves with hot water when doing the dishes, break their bones by mistake, and they both wore scars where, for instance, they bit their own lip off during their sleep, not even knowing they'd done it.
I had an epiphany lately, while driving to work- I was thinking about how thankful I am for the things God has taught me. It hit me that all that time that I was wanting God to take care of me through my pain and remove my suffering, He was teaching me. I thought He was being absent from me, but really He was walking with me through experiences that would make me into a wiser me.
Okay, I know this is simple stuff. I did not invent this concept, the strengthening through experience thing. But what was stunning to me was how my expectations of God's responsibility to me had been so way off all that time. I kept asking for what I wanted, and God steadfastly gave me what I needed. As nice as a pain-free life sounds, I know that pain has purpose- and I'm thankful for the pain that God walked me through.
On the surface, this sounds like a cool deal, doesn't it?
But of course, these people suffer terrible effects from their disability. They burn themselves with hot water when doing the dishes, break their bones by mistake, and they both wore scars where, for instance, they bit their own lip off during their sleep, not even knowing they'd done it.
I had an epiphany lately, while driving to work- I was thinking about how thankful I am for the things God has taught me. It hit me that all that time that I was wanting God to take care of me through my pain and remove my suffering, He was teaching me. I thought He was being absent from me, but really He was walking with me through experiences that would make me into a wiser me.
Okay, I know this is simple stuff. I did not invent this concept, the strengthening through experience thing. But what was stunning to me was how my expectations of God's responsibility to me had been so way off all that time. I kept asking for what I wanted, and God steadfastly gave me what I needed. As nice as a pain-free life sounds, I know that pain has purpose- and I'm thankful for the pain that God walked me through.
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
God Is
One thing I realized this weekend was how so many of my most intimate moments with God have happened in crowds. There is something about a crowd of people reciting the words of a prayer together, 2500+ people this weekend who not only knew the prayers by heart, but meant them by heart- that makes me just quiver. You know that anything in unison effects me somehow, that marching bands and people clapping make me cry. But singing with a crowd of people, songs that praise God and connect with Him, really sends me.
This weekend I went looking to reconnect with God, longing for that feeling of being loved and chosen and supported and known by God. Of all the private prayer that I have participated in, it was the music and being little me just one of a couple thousand people that helped me find that feeling. There is real comfort in being around "my people", knowing that we all get the same inside jokes and share the same frustrations and challenges, along with "getting" why we all do what we do, a common sharing of a vision. But somehow I can feel and know that through the songs, the speakers, the images, that God is speaking directly into my ear. I feel recognized by Him, sought out by Him, like He is shining a spotlight on me.
The song that has been God's telegram to me over the past several years has been Danielle Rose's "God Is". The lyrics are:
You want to know Me- You want to see My face-
I do not age with time; I do not fit into a space
I transcend the capacity of your eye, so who am I?
It is the question of the moment;
It is the question for all time
I am you, and you are mine
I am the beginning and the end
I am the faith in your believing
I am the color of truth
I am the dreamer of your dreams
I am the falling in your love
I am the words of a prayer
I am the silence in the music
I am the music in the silence
I am your father; I am your mother
I am the man who cannot cry
I am the story in your eyes
I am the orphan of war
I am the leper begging on the corner
I am the black slave in chains
I am the Muslim bride who cannot show her face
I'm the cross you carry again
I am the beginning and the end
I am the faith in your believing
I am the color of truth
I am the dreamer of your dreams
I am the falling in your love
I am the words of a prayer
I am the silence in the music
I am the music in the silence
I'm all you have forgotten
I am all that you have not been
I am in you - all of this in within you
Let the journey begin, Amen
I am in you, Amen
I am the beginning and the end
I am the faith in your believing
I am the color of truth
I am the dreamer of your dreams
I am the falling in your love
I am the words of a prayer
I am the silence in the music
I am the music in the silence
The song is beautiful, cut and paste this link into your browser to hear a sample of it: http://www.catholicmusicnetwork.com/cmn_cd_detail.asp?PRODUCT_ID=10123
The chorus is kind of a chant, and her voice is beautiful, and I hear God telling me "stop questioning me. I am in charge. I know what I am doing. I am everything you need."
It was with this song that God reached my little walnut heart 4 years ago at the Denver conference, and I almost gasped when I heard it again this year- ahhhhhhh right. That's right.
This weekend I went looking to reconnect with God, longing for that feeling of being loved and chosen and supported and known by God. Of all the private prayer that I have participated in, it was the music and being little me just one of a couple thousand people that helped me find that feeling. There is real comfort in being around "my people", knowing that we all get the same inside jokes and share the same frustrations and challenges, along with "getting" why we all do what we do, a common sharing of a vision. But somehow I can feel and know that through the songs, the speakers, the images, that God is speaking directly into my ear. I feel recognized by Him, sought out by Him, like He is shining a spotlight on me.
The song that has been God's telegram to me over the past several years has been Danielle Rose's "God Is". The lyrics are:
You want to know Me- You want to see My face-
I do not age with time; I do not fit into a space
I transcend the capacity of your eye, so who am I?
It is the question of the moment;
It is the question for all time
I am you, and you are mine
I am the beginning and the end
I am the faith in your believing
I am the color of truth
I am the dreamer of your dreams
I am the falling in your love
I am the words of a prayer
I am the silence in the music
I am the music in the silence
I am your father; I am your mother
I am the man who cannot cry
I am the story in your eyes
I am the orphan of war
I am the leper begging on the corner
I am the black slave in chains
I am the Muslim bride who cannot show her face
I'm the cross you carry again
I am the beginning and the end
I am the faith in your believing
I am the color of truth
I am the dreamer of your dreams
I am the falling in your love
I am the words of a prayer
I am the silence in the music
I am the music in the silence
I'm all you have forgotten
I am all that you have not been
I am in you - all of this in within you
Let the journey begin, Amen
I am in you, Amen
I am the beginning and the end
I am the faith in your believing
I am the color of truth
I am the dreamer of your dreams
I am the falling in your love
I am the words of a prayer
I am the silence in the music
I am the music in the silence
The song is beautiful, cut and paste this link into your browser to hear a sample of it: http://www.catholicmusicnetwork.com/cmn_cd_detail.asp?PRODUCT_ID=10123
The chorus is kind of a chant, and her voice is beautiful, and I hear God telling me "stop questioning me. I am in charge. I know what I am doing. I am everything you need."
It was with this song that God reached my little walnut heart 4 years ago at the Denver conference, and I almost gasped when I heard it again this year- ahhhhhhh right. That's right.
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