The Struggle
For the past year, I’ve been wrestling with the need to hold tightly to faith… you know, that thing that a Good Christian does effortlessly (because we don’t ever doubt, right?). In one very heavy and significant hand, I’ve always and continue to view God as completely and wholly Good. In the other, I’ve been neglecting my doubt and anger towards him. I’ve refused to address it because that’s not what a Good Christian does (because we don’t ever get infuriated with God, right?). In this struggle of a season, what I’ve come to realize is that I’m still learning the Gospel. I have to say, my pride took quite the hit when I realized I didn’t understand the Gospel in its fullness. I grew up in church, and giving my heart to Christ is one of the first solid memories I have as a child. I should be a pro by now (because all Good Christians should be Pro Good Christians, right?).
I realize now that God was inviting me to process the box’s contents with him in real-time instead of sifting through it about three quarters-deep alone and relaying a sort-of-genuine-but-not-fully version of it to him later.
Recently though, I recognized a need to be more authentic with God than I’d been in a very long time. I genuinely thought I had been (I thought I was being a Good Christian), but my pattern of avoiding him said otherwise. So upon some heart-digging, I found a sizable box with the lid screwed shut. It contained my worst emotions and thoughts towards God. Something that night told me to completely remove the lid, dig through the box a little - a lot - and not filter what I was going to say in prayer. Writing this, I realize now that God was inviting me to process the box’s contents with him in real-time instead of sifting through it about three quarters-deep alone and relaying a sort-of-genuine-but-not-fully version of it to him later.
During this spiritual therapy session, if you will, I told God - the God, the Almighty, King-of-kings, our Creator, my Heavenly Dad - things like, “when I think about the top relationships I’ve had that have hurt me the most, you’re on the list. And it’s not a very long list.” I continued with, “It’s probably why I’ve struggled so much with talking to you: I’ve been calling it a lack of self-discipline, but I’m really just afraid to spend time with you because if I spend time with you, I’ll open up to you again. I’ll allow myself to hear You, and I can’t do that.” And in the end, I said, “I want to say that I don’t really mean all of that (and I don’t really mean all of that)...but part of me wishes I did.”
I’d been ignoring my small harshness towards God so much that I was sacrificing our big relationship on an altar of comfort-motivated avoidance, shallow legalism, and pride.
Writing those words down felt like the gravest of sins (because Good Christians don’t ever have such bad, raw emotions, right?). After years of learning God and seeking a closer relationship with him, our separation looked like a chasm, and I was the one who turned my back on it. I’d been ignoring my small harshness towards God so much that I was sacrificing our big relationship on an altar of comfort-motivated avoidance, shallow legalism, and pride.
Acknowledging my overdue bitterness and simultaneously recognizing the hesitant but slowly growing desire to have communion with God again, I immediately felt a call to action. In my heart of hearts, did I really want a life separate from my heavenly Father? I always knew the answer: no, I didn’t. I’ve seen too many before me turn away from God when they felt he didn’t deliver, and I can’t say I’ve heard them relay their lives are better for it. I also wanted to share some of those worst words with you, reader. I almost did so the night of, but decided against it. I want you to know that it’s okay to admit when you’re not being the best Amateur-or-Pro Good Christian. Personally, I created this dynamic that I should never doubt, question, or be seriously angry with God, and thus, rejected those feelings when they arose. The problem is that they didn’t go anywhere. Remember that box I opened that started all of this? It took up too much space, space that should’ve been filled with adoration for and obedience to God, and grew so large it demanded not to be ignored anymore.
If this is something you struggle with too, I encourage you to read Mark 12:1-12 (The Parable of the Tenants). I heard this story many times, but it cut deeper that the owner purposefully sent out his most beloved son to be killed. “He sent them last of all, saying, ‘They will respect my son,’” (Mark 12:6) after the tenants killed all the other servants who came before him. I found myself in defense of the son because his father angered me: how could this man be so stupid? Protect your son and don’t send him at all. Don’t you see the pattern? What you’re trying to protect is less important than your son.
The story parallels Jesus’s purpose on Earth: he was sent by his father to be a sacrifice for us. God knew, Jesus knew, and eventually, the Disciples knew this too…I mean Jesus only told them 1000 times that he was going to die and it took them a while to get it, but I can’t really judge though because here I am, going on 22 years of being a Pro Good Christian (which by now you understand that’s not really a thing, right?), still learning the Gospel. God didn’t send Jesus so we could stop our relationship with him when it got too uncomfortable on any front. He pursues us so he can challenge and grow us in a way that organically leads to growing closer to us.