"It's Complicated"
If Jesus and I updated our relationship status on Facebook, our relationship status would have to be "It's Complicated."
When friends struggle with their significant others, they sometimes change their relationship status, maybe to annoy the other or send an indirect message, that they are on shaky ground. I wouldn't say Jesus and I are struggling in that way, but something is going on.
It's been a rough year with lots of change and losses. It has been dark and disorienting at times. There were times that a voice whispered that "you have the chance to choose-life or death right here" and somehow I found the courage to choose life, to accept help, to pursue treatment. But there has been an unexpected cost for me due to this process and this bad year. I am not the same person that I was before. Each experience chipped something away...a sense of self, an understanding of purpose, personal security, pride, a level of independence.
I want to believe that I am recovered but in actuality I am still in the process of recovering. My heart still aches, and I lose my voice when I try to talk about sad things. I want to be joyful and excited, but I am conscious that the bottom can fall out of life at any time. Prayers of gratitude well up until I suck in my breath to take it back. I am not ready to commit to being well. What if things never get back to "normal?" Well, what if I don't? I don't feel like myself, and my relationship with Jesus doesn't feel the same either.
Faith can be a "feely" thing. We want the mountain top experiences. We want to experience miracles. We want to feel the Holy Spirit moving. If we live only a feeling, experiential faith, what happens when we feel, well, alone or empty or absence. A nun once told me that hell is the absence of experiencing God. Maybe I have been in hell. I think when we make our faith about what we experience or how we feel, it isn't really faith anymore.
Experiencing "faith" or a relationship with God is a way to control the uncontrollable when we are afraid or life is messy. I am afraid. I know that there will be more pain, at some time, probably sooner than I like. I will probably have another depressive episode at some point, or so I am told. This makes my relationship with God complicated. How do I choose to submit to more pain? How do I choose to pursue relationships that will inevitably create pain? I don't know, to be honest. But I believe that faith is about more than feeling.
Faith is trusting that what God said is true.
He said He would fight for me. He said that there will be trouble. He said that he will never abandon me. He said there is nothing that will ever separate me from Him. He said that I will find Him if I look. He said that He will lead me to places of rest and abundance if I follow Him.
He didn't say that it would feel like He were with me. He didn't say following His lead would be a one time thing or an easy thing or feel great. It is actually this hard thing that causes me to consider my actions and responses and intentions. It causes me to think that about more than the here and now and physical, and I think about the long term, spiritual consequences of choices in that present moment.
Faith isn't entirely rational. There is emotion. Jesus wept. Jesus was angry. Jesus was desperate. Faith can be both-a middle way of choosing despite logic or feelings, of choosing the best way. Jesus was brave. Jesus was wise. Jesus was generous. Jesus had faith in His Father.
Jesus told a woman who was desperate and ashamed that her faith made her well. She chose to try one more time. She chose Jesus. Perhaps my faith will make me well. Perhaps our relationship isn't really that complicated.
When friends struggle with their significant others, they sometimes change their relationship status, maybe to annoy the other or send an indirect message, that they are on shaky ground. I wouldn't say Jesus and I are struggling in that way, but something is going on.
It's been a rough year with lots of change and losses. It has been dark and disorienting at times. There were times that a voice whispered that "you have the chance to choose-life or death right here" and somehow I found the courage to choose life, to accept help, to pursue treatment. But there has been an unexpected cost for me due to this process and this bad year. I am not the same person that I was before. Each experience chipped something away...a sense of self, an understanding of purpose, personal security, pride, a level of independence.
I want to believe that I am recovered but in actuality I am still in the process of recovering. My heart still aches, and I lose my voice when I try to talk about sad things. I want to be joyful and excited, but I am conscious that the bottom can fall out of life at any time. Prayers of gratitude well up until I suck in my breath to take it back. I am not ready to commit to being well. What if things never get back to "normal?" Well, what if I don't? I don't feel like myself, and my relationship with Jesus doesn't feel the same either.
Faith can be a "feely" thing. We want the mountain top experiences. We want to experience miracles. We want to feel the Holy Spirit moving. If we live only a feeling, experiential faith, what happens when we feel, well, alone or empty or absence. A nun once told me that hell is the absence of experiencing God. Maybe I have been in hell. I think when we make our faith about what we experience or how we feel, it isn't really faith anymore.
Experiencing "faith" or a relationship with God is a way to control the uncontrollable when we are afraid or life is messy. I am afraid. I know that there will be more pain, at some time, probably sooner than I like. I will probably have another depressive episode at some point, or so I am told. This makes my relationship with God complicated. How do I choose to submit to more pain? How do I choose to pursue relationships that will inevitably create pain? I don't know, to be honest. But I believe that faith is about more than feeling.
Faith is trusting that what God said is true.
He said He would fight for me. He said that there will be trouble. He said that he will never abandon me. He said there is nothing that will ever separate me from Him. He said that I will find Him if I look. He said that He will lead me to places of rest and abundance if I follow Him.
He didn't say that it would feel like He were with me. He didn't say following His lead would be a one time thing or an easy thing or feel great. It is actually this hard thing that causes me to consider my actions and responses and intentions. It causes me to think that about more than the here and now and physical, and I think about the long term, spiritual consequences of choices in that present moment.
Faith isn't entirely rational. There is emotion. Jesus wept. Jesus was angry. Jesus was desperate. Faith can be both-a middle way of choosing despite logic or feelings, of choosing the best way. Jesus was brave. Jesus was wise. Jesus was generous. Jesus had faith in His Father.
Jesus told a woman who was desperate and ashamed that her faith made her well. She chose to try one more time. She chose Jesus. Perhaps my faith will make me well. Perhaps our relationship isn't really that complicated.
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