Sometimes when God works… it's not-so-mysterious.
Last Monday evening, I found myself with an hour or so to fritter away to my own carefree enjoyment. I set off to the local bookstore to peruse the aisles and find a new addition to the growing piles of books around my bedroom. I found Susan Isaac's "snarky but authentic spiritual memoir," Angry Conversations with God. Or maybe it found me?
It was the last copy on a display table filled with books about religion and spirituality. It stuck out. The title screamed for (my) attention. Angry conversations with God? Is this for real? The inside flap began: "I was raised Lutheran: Bible believing, Jesus-loving Lutheran. But as an adult I tried everything: Pentecostals, Presbyterians, Episcopalians, Rock 'n' Roll Slacks for Jesus, Actors for Yahweh. Then I said, 'Screw it' and became a drunk and a slut. Well, a Lutheran slut—I slept with only two guys. Then I got sober and into AA, where they said I could pick whatever god I wanted. But I didn't pick God; God picked me. I've known Him as long as I can remember."
I was hooked. She continued to describe her problems as "middle-class white girls" and hinted at some pokes at the American "churchianity." I was definitely a white girl. (I wore a skirt today and my white legs are a testament to this fact!) And I've been a Christian for as long as I can remember. And I certainly know something about "churchianity."
Dave-Ramsey-Financial-Peace-cautions were pushed aside; I didn't even look at the price. I needed to read this book. This book promised something funny and fresh, and different than the books sitting in the piles. I have been wrestling with intimacy with God. I didn't know what the book would reveal about God and me… but I was willing to give it a go.
I wasn't let down. This book spoke to my soul. She shared her God story with the "snarky but authenticity" the cover promised. She was funny. She was real. The pages flew by. She shared of her frustrations and loneliness as a single woman. I related. She shared her annoyances with church-y phrases like "living life together" and I nodded emphatically. She shared her view of Jesus (wimpy) and God (angry) and I began to wonder about my own view of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit with an intimacy I haven't experienced in a long time. Not since the glory days of Uprising when worship was easy and lovely. I miss those days.
I can't do the book justice and I don't want to ruin it for anyone else who may read it. (Obviously I am recommending it.) So, I am not going to say anything more. Just that when I finished the last chapters, I was sitting at the community table at the local New Seasons grocery store (yes, this is another place I like to "hang") surrounded by others eating and chatting and I was crying. Yeah, I probably looked like a weirdo. But something very real within me was touched by her story.
I spend so much time doing things so other people can know Jesus. This is not bad. The mission of Abundant Life Church is to reach as many people as possible for Jesus Christ. As a staff person and member, this is my objective. I agree with it. I feel extremly honored to be where I am, doing what I get to do.
I think too often in the hustle and bustle of making sure a church event is pulled off, or whatever project I am working on, I forget too easily that before I reach others I need to make sure I am being reached. It's not selfish. It's not rude. It's not irresponsible. It's wise and good. And it's really, really hard for me. I don't know why. I don't know why I am afraid. If Susan's God was angry, mine is distant and hard to please. If Susan's Jesus was wimpy, mine is sad and frustrated with me. Both want a lot from me. They are demanding and exhausting. Yeah, they both love me, but I am their daughter, they have to… right?
Last Friday I was at the church office working on some projects, and I had my Angry Conversations with God book with me. A friend of mine who manages a Christian bookstore had asked I write a little review for his store. I had hoped to put something together for him after I clocked out when the church was quiet. My co-worker Val (who also doubles as my dating mentor, but that's a different story entirely) walks in my office space, sees the book at my desk, and says excitedly, "Oh my goodness Cori! I just watched this woman on KATU this morning! She's hilarious! She is reading from her book at Imago Dei tonight!"
I flipped out. I was so excited. I wanted to meet her, hear her story in her own voice. But then I remembered I had a conflict. I was already booked for a "play night" with a volunteer team from church. Yes, on a Friday night my plans are church-work related. I realized I had to make a decision between doing something I was already committed or something for my own personal, spiritual growth. This was actually a touch decision, and I begrudgingly admit I let my pastor-boss make the call for me.
Going to the book reading was about me and God and where I am in my own spiritual growth journey. I don't feel close to God. I feel neglected and a little angry. Okay, I feel pissed off. (I am not going to get into why here.) I feel tired all the time. I feel a little lost and lonely. I feel like a machine that needs to put things out constantly - workschoolpeoplehomeself - with no thought of how it gets fueled. I am being a poor provider of my own soul care. And I don't want to be. I want to cry out to Jesus and ask him why the desires of my heart have been forgotten, for help, and I am scared to hear the answers. I don't want to be told I am doing anything wrong. I am stubborn. I don't want the expectations of others to define who I am supposed to be. I don't want to be fueled by the approval of others. I want to be confident and in love with my Creator, but when I cry out to Him my voice squeaks. It's like fingernails on a chalkboard. I don't like hearing it. I stumble with my words. I'd rather hide and keep on being busy.
But something tells me, God doesn't mind my squeaks. He wants me to talk to him and cry with him. He sees the potential and passion in me that's good and wants me to see it too. At some point I had scribbled these words by Josh McDowell on a piece of paper and tacked it on my bulletin board: "A healthy self-image is seeing yourself as God sees you-no more and no less." Jesus wants to be my fuel because he isn't judging me—he loves me.
Sigh.
"If God really was good, then I had to let go of every expectation and every grudge. I could no longer defy him or manipulate Him. I might even have to let Him love me (page 224)."
This is obviously a process, and I am not going to solve everything within this post. I want to be honest with others and myself (or try to), and was reminded at the book reading that I need to write these feelings out. It's one of the tools God has given me to learn and grow. Maybe not always on a public blog! But I also believe that when we write for others (like blogs are) we are writing for others to see their own self in our words and experiences. So, I will continue to write.
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