Tuesday, March 10, 2009

tangible

In the awesome sermon Pastor Bob gave last semester about why to choose God instead of sin, he mentioned that Christians are never really satisfied.

What he meant is that we are never really satisfied here on Earth, because until we're completely sanctified and united with Jesus, we're just... incomplete. It is right for us to yearn for Christ, to be left thirsty for more. Dan often quotes the opening lines of Augustine's Confessions:
...thou hast made us for thyself and restless is our heart until it comes to rest in thee.

Lately my struggle has been trusting that God will satisfy me.

I'm starting to learn to look to Him rather than my old vices for comfort. Now, to be clear, the old vices are only comforting in the short term. They induce chemical changes in my body in one way or another that placate me, but after that wears off or my conscience kicks in, I'm left bereft.

With God, I get the comfort in the long run -- eventually finding things to be thankful for, eventually worshiping, eventually getting the joy back and finding consolation. But honestly, I often don't feel like God is doing anything about meeting my needs in the short term. When everything seems gray and hopeless, I want to hear His voice, to see His face, to feel God's loving arms in one way or another. Often what I get is growing loneliness and keen awareness that my faith is too small.

I spoke to a friend about this the other day, asking for prayer that I'd be able to keep turning to God even when I don't have any tangible feeling that He's there and taking care of me. She agreed to pray, but left me with this challenge:
What if He's giving you what you need, but what you need isn't a tangible response?

In some ways this is obvious, because if God is who He says He is and I need a tangible response, He'll give it to me. But it's kind of scary, thinking that God would ask me to let go of all the things that bring me comfort and turn to Him...but then just silently leave me there, hurting.

He's God. If that's what He wants, then I'll deal with it. It'll probably build my character. Maybe later on I'll even break down and be thankful for it.

But it just sucks when you know God's the answer, the reason for it all, and the one that loves you best, and He chooses to hide Himself.

I want to know, not just believe.

I long for God Himself, not just more faith.

Faith, hope, and love. I'm looking forward to the day when we won't need faith or hope anymore.

For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.
And now abide faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is love.
(1 cor 13)
Even so, come, Lord Jesus.
(Rev 22, C. Bronte, and me)

3 comments:

Dan Waugh said...

I think this is a telling sentence (or two), not just for you but for all of us. You wrote, "But honestly, I often don't feel like God is doing anything about meeting my needs in the short term. When everything seems gray and hopeless, I want to hear His voice, to see His face, to feel God's loving arms in one way or another."

Do you see how easily we oscillate between need and want? It happens to us all - I see it especially in my kids - I need candy, etc. I think you are right on something though - trusting that what God has given you is all you need. I think we should assume that what we have been given is all we need - anything beyond that is blessings above and beyond.

b7 said...

I saw that even as I was writing it, and decided to leave it in there because... well, it's true.

What I feel like I need and what I need are two different things. I'm glad God knows the difference.

b7 said...

Note for posterity:

I wrote this after 3AM, for no particular reason. I wasn't upset or angsty at the moment, just thinking about it.

At the same time, 600 miles away, my spiritual mom Renee was driving home from the hospital. She had spent the night holding the hand of Susan, a woman who's mom died last Christmas and who was undergoing treatment after her second miscarriage in 4 months. Renee was thinking about this very topic -- how do we share God's comfort in the worst times in life, when we don't feel it?

I think it's cool that she and I came to the same conclusion: just hold on and believe.