The Faith of Me

These past few months have contained some of the most intense moments of my spiritual journey. I have never questioned God more, but at the same time, I have never wanted God more. Sometimes I feel as if I am clinging to the things I say I believe by only a thread. I have so many questions that seem to go unanswered, so many moments when I have asked to feel God’s presence yet haven’t. I have been seeking truth like never before.

Throughout this recent journey, I have begun to realize that I am often quite hypocritical in my approaches to spirituality. I will ask for God’s presence, yet refuse to quiet and humble myself in His. I will ask for forgiveness for a sin I don’t feel all that sorry I’ve committed. I say that I am willing to do anything for Christ, as long as “anything” fits into my own plans.

I am being reminded over and over again that God and the life He offers me isn’t safe. Oftentimes Jesus is portrayed as the safest choice a person could ever make. We so often look at Jesus and talk about what He can give us.

“If you accept Jesus into your heart, you’ll go to heaven.”
“If you’re struggling with something, just pray about it; Jesus will answer your prayers.”
“Don’t worry about life because Jesus has everything all figured out.”
“God will grant you the desires of your heart if you just believe He can.”

On and on the list could go.

The problem that sometimes arises with a list like this is that these things are conditional. If I want to get what I want, I must pray and trust God. If I want to avoid hell, I must ask Jesus to save me. These ideas are true, but I believe they are being thought about in the wrong perspective. That might not seem like such a big deal, but the implications of that perspective can be incredibly damaging.

One of the Church’s (and when I say “Church’s” I am most definitely including myself at the top of that list) deepest flaws is that we have too often made God in our own image.

When God doesn’t provide me with a warm and fuzzy feeling when I ask Him to, I doubt that He’s listening to me at all. When God makes me wait for something I desperately desire, I doubt that I will ever actually receive it and feel sorry for myself. When God seems to reward those I deem guilty and punish those I deem innocent, I question His justice and want my own revenge. Basically, when God does not do what I want Him to the moment I want Him to do it, I get offended, as if God owes me something or has to prove Himself to me as a prerequisite for my faith.

I like itineraries. I like MapQuest. (The ultimate is going on a trip that involves an itinerary AND MapQuest.) I like being in control all the time. One of the reasons I avoid alcohol is because the idea of losing even a little bit of self-control sounds completely unappealing to me. My friends and I laugh about these things, about my obsession with being in charge all the time. But this issue of being in control is incredibly destructive to my so-called faith.

My desire to be in control and know all of the answers has kept me from knowing who God really is. I have been living my life however I wanted to live it, fitting God into my own agenda. I tense up a bit when I read a piece of difficult, convicting Scripture because I want an easy faith, not one that demands total surrender and sacrifice. I try to rationalize the miracles of the Bible sometimes so they make more scientific and logical sense.

The Christian life that I desire is the one that seems to get marketed, the one that so many people seem to have. It is a life that’s safe, a life that centers on a God who is also safe. This God is never angered, answers all of our prayers the way we want Him to, and never offends us. This God leads us to the perfect church where everyone is kind and selfless and where the music suits our own tastes and preferences every single week. A God who is safe, who always does want we want Him to, is a God that’s not worth following. I believe this to be true, but I have so often lived my life as if it weren’t.

The idea of living a life completely surrendered to a Being I can’t see or hear or always feel is terrifying. The idea of trusting this Being to guide my steps and provide my necessities requires a faith I have never possessed.

I believe the true God, the God of the Scriptures, is not at all who we often assume He is. He gets angry and jealous. He offends us. He destroyed the world with a flood. He allows Satan to manipulate His Bride. He does not always pull us out the very moment we feel that we’re drowning. He does not fit into the scope of science. He can never be figured out with logic or a well-crafted argument. He is not safe.

He is all of these things, but He is also love. He is grace. He is redemption, hope, and beauty. He is the provider of every breath we take. He causes our blood to continually flow through our bodies. He hears our laments, our anger, and our rants. He grieves when we grieve. He heals our wounds. He is beyond any thought or word or idea any human could ever possibly construct. We have an idea of what God is like, but the best we can do sometimes is imagine.

Perhaps the most important spiritual question I could ever ask myself is this: Am I shaping God in my own image or allowing myself to be shaped in His?

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