Last night the night the lights went out in Surrey. (Well, part of Surrey, at least my neighborhood. )
Imagine over 7 hundred and 80 minutes without lights, TV or fans to stave off the effects of a recent heat wave.
Worst of all, we couldn’t even flush the toilets. Thanks to our septic system we were unable to bid a fond farewell to that part of ourselves technically labeled as #1 and #2.
I didn’t even try to finish my blog.
How could any sane person concentrate knowing that an unmentionable part of herself lingered nearby? Besides, I had no internet. So I went to bed.
The lights are back on now. The fans and the internet are functioning again. Most importantly. all excess human extract has been sent to a faraway sanitation station somewhere in the sweet by and by.
That worked out. I didn’t want to miss another opportunity to blog about the
- unexplained events,
- confusing relationships
- random fears and freak-0uts
involved in being a human being.
This last Sunday is a great example.
I was really feeling human. Stressed out. Depressed.
Sad thing is, this wasn’t the first time. There were other Sundays when I drove as slowly as possible to church just to delay my arrival.
Sometimes I cried.
Then, I spent the rest of the drive trying to pull myself together so that I could enter the sanctuary looking totally opposite of what I was feeling inside.
What gives, I wondered while speeding along highway 1. At home I felt like God really loved me and was totally a part of my life. At church I felt like an intruder, someone who didn’t belong.
As I drove, I began to remember faces from my childhood. I thought of the parishioners of churches that my Dad had pastored. Every face had a frown. Every single person seemed angry at my Dad or his kids.
I remembered the time I sat on the pew during a church service. People around me yelled and screamed about whether the church should be segregated or not. End result- the church stayed segregated. Dad had to leave.
A few years later I watched church members shake their fists at dad because he dared introduce marginalized people to our church community. They voted Dad out of a job. Because we lived in the parsonage, we lost our home at the same time.
Sure, there were good times.
But, the disapproval of parishioners was hard to forget. Somewhere along the line, I began to confuse their anger with the wrath of God.
Strange, what a person can find when she dares explore the reasoning behind her emotions. I found a God as angry and disapproving as the people who used to be angry and disapproving of me.
It was an image of God I had created out of my pain and it was a lie.
Truth? God is God.
No manipulation or fabrication can change one tiny aspect of the Mighty One. He just is, was and will always be.
Our minds cannot begin to comprehend the scope of His being. Yet, His own written Word defines the absolutes of his character.
I know, I’m a slow learner.
but, hey, knowing God is messy business, a daunting adventure.
It takes baby steps, my friend, baby steps.