A Post That Could Be Taken Very Wrongly by A Lot of People

Sometimes I cry because I miss God. It's true. Today I did. I've never seen Him, but I miss Him. It's not because He isn't with me, but because I can't see Him and talk to Him as flesh and blood.

Today was a very good day. I got very little done this weekend out of all the homework I have. I find that I'm very slow at getting homework done, which is sometimes because I dread it and other times because I love it.

Last night I worked for a long time but got very little done because I was lingering over Gurney Norman's exquisitely written but sometimes painful and peculiar book, Divine Right's Trip. It's about a guy who is always on drugs, and his girlfriend who is almost always on drugs. I can't believe I like it so much, but I think it's because Norman is so sensitive to detail and the communicates the lostness that human beings feel in life.

I was supposed to read 100 pages and write a two-page response, but instead I just read and read and scribbled notes in the book and thought and read and admired the book because it is a brand new book and it belongs to me and I had forgotten what a delicious feeling it is to have a brand new book that belongs to you, especially when it is a book worth reading.

After a very good morning at church (I love the preaching at River of Life!) I spent a while in the art building with two of my classmates staring at a tiny ancient bowl from Palestine. I've never looked at a bowl for so long before, but it was important to do so because I need to write a paper describing it artistically. It's for Archaeology.

My classmates were writing about another object, a small Egyptian figurine with hieroglyphs all over him. David named him Billy Bob. I don't know how the Egyptian figurine felt about that. I decided he must be from Southern Egypt. Julianna took tons of notes, but I consoled myself with the thought that my handwriting is smaller than hers, so I should have plenty of notes too. Unfortunately that is not quite true; I'll have to go back tomorrow. We were so still that the motion detector lights kept going off, leaving us in the shadows.

After about forty minutes of standing in line at the cafe for tea + fruitless work on the beginning of my paper while gazing longingly at the hills of Berea forest from the patio, I decided on a brisk hike up Brushy Fork trail. I just needed to talk to God. I missed Him.

I hear people talk about God like He's an object that can be shelved if one feels like it. A lot of people look down on God like He can be put under a microscope and analyzed scientifically. Or others seem to think of Him as a warm coat they can interchange with other coats depending on the weather that morning. Few people, even self-identified Christians, are willing to accept the incredibly unpopular idea that God is the I Am and doesn't owe us an explanation for His actions.

In the past week I've heard people say that they used to believe in God, but then they got educated and realized they couldn't responsibly believe that anymore. They are people who really care about society and injustices in the world. I'm glad. Now it's all up to them to fix this mess. Good luck with that.

Admitting to God and subsequently submitting to God is scary. Even with my Pollyanna glasses on, I know that it is. The big problem is that the password to the Door is "I believe," and until we're able to say that and step through the Door in faith, we won't ever begin to understand God's character. We can't know Him unless we say yes, but we don't want to say yes till we know Him. It seems quite unfair.

There's an incredible arrogance afoot that says that God needs to be fair and logical for us, intelligent humans that we are, to accept Him. It's a good thing God hasn't been fair or logical with us lately or we'd all be dead. Including me. No one can see God by putting Him under a microscope. He isn't willing to be brought down to size, not unless you count the exception for love when He chose to become a man on earth for our sakes.

I'm sure I'm doing a dis-service to my reputation by putting all this out there. Please know that I don't condone mindless acceptance of any idea or religion, even my own. In the end, each of us will have to account for whom and what we placed our faith in, and that's a choice no individual can make for another. I only know that the more irresponsible my commitment appears and the more uncomfortable it becomes, the more willing I must become to say what is rooted deep in my heart.

In the woods, expressing all this to God, all the love I know I don't have to earn or prove flooded back to me. I have chosen a road less traveled by. In a society that recoils from the idea of submission in any form, I have chosen to submit myself to a Man I've never seen. I've decided to believe that the book so many consider a myth is actually the Word of God. I've chosen to believe that someday I will meet Christ in eternity and be completely fulfilled.

What do I get for all this strange belief? Not exactly a cozy blankie of religion to comfort me on cold nights. Comfort, yes, in times of pain and fear. But it leaves me with a lot of explaining to do, something I'm not skilled at. It's beginning to put me in uncomfortable places. It's the kind of thing that could get you in a lot of trouble, this being absolute and all.

The reward isn't material wealth. It isn't a free pass on trial and hardship. It isn't a cheat sheet with all the answers to the hard questions. The reward He has given me is Himself. The love pent up in His heart, He has poured out on me. The help of His Holy Spirit, He has installed in me. The work of complete transformation, He has started in me. I can't prove it scientifically, but it is. I might never be eloquent enough or theologically studied enough to discuss it with some of you. But just as I can't explain this bond, I can't break it either. I am incapable of going back.