A smellshorsey reader asked how I reach for God (or remember to reach for God) in all the busy-ness of life. I'm not really qualified to answer this question, because I do such a poor job of it.
There are a few things I have going for me. I live in the Southern U.S., which Flannery O'Connor called a "Christ-haunted landscape," and it is. This is the Bible Belt. You can believe in God in public here, and nobody will think the less of you. In fact, some folks use that public display of Christianess to enhance their standing. There's a fine line between letting people know you are Christian and using that little fish symbol to try to drum up business by snaring other Christians.
When I lived in Philadelphia years ago I was surprised at the absence of Christians -- even in the pews at church. I had a Catholic friend who was faithful and several practicing Jewish friends. I knew one passionate Christian who was Korean, and that was about it.
Since then, I became acquainted with a priest (not sure that's the term) who switched from the Episcopal Church to the Anglican Mission of Rwanda in America and is now a missionary in Connecticut. He said that he would rather be a missionary in Africa than Connecticut. Americans have so much stuff and so many distractions we don't need God. Remember the fruit on the tree in the Garden of Eden? We have so much low-hanging fruit now that we aren't even hungry for God.
Where I live now (the South) the world is peopled with extraordinary, quiet Christians. I wish I didn't have an anonymity policy here on my blog, because I would love to name names. You can't get to know these people (I'm talking about you, Tara, for one) without feeling the power of God at work in a life. And these aren't stuffy, no-fun people. These are people whose lives are lived so large that others flock to them for the passion and the laughter. Nothing dims their faith, not cancer or other trials.
On the other hand, it's not God that I seek. It's Santa. I want the God who grants wishes and gives toys. I wish I could believe in a prosperity gospel, where if I just give away a little bit and pray a certain way, I will prosper like Donald Trump. (Is that how he did it? What are these prosperity-gospel Christians thinking?) It would be nice to find a way to manipulate God, to make myself God. I would do things so very differently.
If God's not going to do what I want, then what? I wonder if I'm ever going to grow past this little sticking point in my faith. C. S. Lewis said that God is good, but he isn't safe.
I want a safe God. That's not who Yahweh is. He is good, but he isn't safe.
This struggle put me in the hospital. I wasn't going to tell that here. One doctor said I was in hormonal chaos, which is probably true. Others thought it might be my heart, but that checked out, even if it was running at 144 bpm at rest. So they sent in a shrink. (By the way, God's hands were all over this. I was carried by Christians when I could no longer walk myself.) The shrink asked me what was going on with me. I said, "I don't trust God anymore."
And I didn't. Why should I? I had all kinds of troubles. All kinds of situations where I couldn't see a way out or a happy ending. My Santa God had failed me. What was next? John the Baptist sent word to Jesus from his jail cell, "Is it you, or are we waiting for another?"
That's where I was. In jail, wondering how I had gotten it all so wrong. I was mad at the God I had, and knew there was no other.
My niece brought me a pen and a journal to my hospital bed. So I wrote and wrote. I told God what he was doing wrong and how very angry I was about all this. One thing I have going for me is that I have always talked to God honestly. I had been unable to sleep for days. (Hard to do with your heart racing so fast and so loudly.) And I heard a real voice in my left ear, and answer to all my rantings, ravings and anger. "Just rest, child, and it will be easy." (Those words are now my screensaver.)
I didn't believe this any more than you do. But I couldn't deny that I had heard it. The very fact of hearing a voice in your left ear is enough to put rest very, very far away, as what I needed to do at this point was run around the hospital and say, "Did you hear that voice?" But I didn't want to end up in the crazy ward, so I quizzed God some more in my journal -- and then sought rest.
My cardiologist was a friend and Christian who helped me give my heart rest. He told me it would be a long, hard slog, and it was and is. I wish I could say it all happened on faith and prayer, but God used other tools as well. I will probably be on Zoloft the rest of my life. I hope my honesty here will help others, because this certainly isn't the sort of thing you want to put on the World Wide Web. Yoo hoo! My meds are just right today.
That experience was a turning point for me. I had to quit looking for the Santa God and seek Yahweh. And I found out he was reaching out for me.
Christian friends continued to carry me when I couldn't walk the path myself. I found great help in scripture (the little I knew) and in singing a few different kyrie. At night Lily and I would lie in bed together and recite Psalm 23, then sing two kyrie we'd heard in church. It brought peace and the sense of God's all-encompassing presence.
Friends gave me books. One that was particularly helpful was Joyce Meyer's Battlefield of the Mind. (When I later saw her on TV, I almost had a heart attack. The woman dresses like Liberace and is an acquired taste.) Joyce is a lot more fundamentalist than I am, but her writing helped me greatly. I sometimes watch her TV show (a little goes a long way) and find her inspiring and energizing. And funny. Funny is always good. (Where I get into a problem is when she starts talking about why she needs a bigger jet....)
Other friends did other things to help keep me afloat. And my husband held me every night, keeping me alive. Helping me to feel safe enough to let go, to give in to sleep.
Eventually I let get of my need to control God, though I still find the idea quite attractive. And I'm here to tell you that holding God accountable does not pay off. No future in that. God is God and you are not.
I try to continue my growth through daily devotionals and always being in bible studies with other Christians and seekers. I learn so much from others, and the fellowship and support give me a taste of the Kingdom of God.
I also pray a lot (when I remember). Nothing is too trivial to bring before the throne of God. If it is on your heart, he wants to hear about it. He wants you to seek him out.
In fact, he's searching for you.
I'm always reading. A friend sent me a powerful book, The Divine Conspiracy by Dallas Willard, that is changing the way I look at things. God is closer than I thought. God's as close as the air we breathe.
I praise God for all the gifts he has given me, including hard times that brought me closer to him.
All of this is inadequate, but I'm posting anyway. Better to give an answer that falls short than to give no answer at all.