Nobody ever accused me of not being ambitious.
This idea came to me this morning during prayer time this morning, as I was rummaging around for the "right" words to say, things like, "Help us to serve You, help us to make wise decisions, and help us come to know You better," interspersed with different thanks.
I had paused looking for words to pray over my husband, when I became startled by the realization that I hadn't talked with him in a while about his Scripture reading, what he was praying about, or what he really needed. We've prayed together, certainly, and we talk alot about our every day lives, but I had not asked him specifically (or anyone else, for that matter) what they were thinking about God, or how they've been seeking Him.
The realization was enough to embarrass me into silence for a bit, mid-prayer.
I breathed deeply, and then asked myself why.
As my brain creaked into gear to produce an answer, this thought, "I want to control God" flitted across my brain. And like that I knew it to be true.
Let me explain.
I was raised in a wonderfully secure conservative Christian home, intentionally so because both of my parents came from very insecure, unstable homes. My parents wanted to give my brother and I what they did not have and they gave us a home built on love, faith, and commitment. All good things.
The theological problems I inherited however (and ones my parents have since been working through!) is the idea that God is likewise stable, secure, and knowable in the pin-down-able sense. Meaning, if you're a Christian then you'll know all you ever need to know about God through reading the Bible and attending a Bible-based church.
It was a fantastic beginning foundation for a young family. I loved the church I grew up attending--it was small with most people coming from similar backgrounds. But when the church began growing, and people not from middle-upper class secure backgrounds began attending that our church's theology began showing its cracks. Its firm grasp on certainty and tradition wasn't always able to handle those who didn't inherently have or understand those things.
And the breakdowns continued as I got older. I started realizing how many people--Christians--understood God differently than I did, even as we read the same Bible. It began dawning on me that the secure, somewhat predictable God I understood, was not fully God, maybe a part, but not His whole.
Whereas I responded by becoming bewildered and a bit frightened by all the differences, my brother reveled in this. He loves asking people about what they are reading, how they are understanding God and why. He likes generous debate and conversation about the unknowns. Me, I tend to keep my mouth shut unless it's to correct someone's thinking: "No, no,you see, that's not how God works because...."
But as I get older, the more I read Scripture, this is an attitude that Paul spends a lot of his time correcting-- preaching that God works as He will, with or without mankind's "assistance" (I'm reading Galatians right now). There are certain unshakeable truths-- that God's grace was greater than legalism, His love is unfailing, His mercy is sure-- but otherwise God was God, despite man's attempts to tamp Him down.
(By the way, I'm noticing that Paul spends more time discussing these certainties of God's grace, love, and mercy, than he does whether or not someone has long hair, whether we should drink wine or grape juice, or whether or not we can go see R rated movies.)
I take this long road to say all this, because my attitude--the tamping-down attitude--was not one that I applied to other faiths, but to other Christians. If their experiences or questions are different than mine, sometimes I struggle to know how to engage with them. My tendency is to correct rather than care; to lash out rather than listen.
So this is why I often don't ask others, even my own husband, about their relationship with God. I get this itchy feeling when their experience is different than mine.
Why? I don't know. Because I like to think that I'm right; that God is pleased with MY way of doing things; that I can't be challenged.
But here's the funny part; Scripture tells me that because of my faith in God, He IS pleased with me; that I don't have to be right; and that of course, I'll always be challenged. But that's life; it's relationship and interaction with others. To pull back from that is to be thrown into isolation--the very opposite from what God has called us into, and the very thing that He has saved us from.
I repented this morning and asked God's forgiveness for the horrid isolation I put myself in. I announced that I wouldn't try to control Him today, and that He could do whatever He wanted; just use me however.
It's pretty exhausting trying to hold the cosmos together, much less the One who created it. So today I'm letting go, and going to start some conversations today.
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