76. One of those days

It is one of those days when I wonder what I am doing?  We are told we see through a glass darkly, but truly it seems like I am sitting in a darkened room trying to guess the outside world by the echo of footsteps and the muffled voices I hear.  It is one of those days that the arrogance whereby I pretend to know the truth becomes laughable.

          This is the point that faith kicks in.  It is easy to be a Christian when there is confidence brimming over and the world is in the rainbow hues of Love, Joy and Grace.  But in the grey light of uncertainty, faith is all that keeps me going.  It is one of those days when I fear that Calvin was right and only a select few are chosen – and I am simply a desperate soul trying to slide in unnoticed.

          I arrived at this place honestly enough.  The question posed through my morning reading, squeezed in between games of my singing monsters and Huffington Post articles, was “Do I really want to be transformed?”  Which in turn lead to my consideration of how many ways I limit the transformation power of God in my life.

          Honestly, I have settled for a handful of enjoyable defects, or sins as you might call them, and am contented to plod along doing nice things for people.  But don’t mess with my enjoyable hindrances – after all after it is unknown whether Poutine is served in heaven and the prudent course of action is to ensure that I consume an eternity’s worth while still on earth.

          I think back to my drinking days.  I know now that the biggest obstacle to getting sober and staying that way was me.  Even though one watching me might see with clarity the destruction that alcohol and other drugs were causing in my life, I was not ready to let go.  Now such is the insanity of addiction that I there was not much freedom to choose, but I still choose drinking over the Love of God.  The transformative power of God was limited by my choice – even though the power of choice had been flawed by the insanity of addiction.

          The series of blog posts I am currently writing addresses in very really and tangible ways how we, or at least I, limited God in my life.  And it seems to me, the real struggle is not in the ways in which I limit God, but in the whys of the way I limit God.  For as long as there is a reason why I limit God, I will invent ways of limiting him.

          So...I wonder....

Instead of simply saying, and during church, singing, and professing my desire to follow the Lord, what if I was honest?  What if I said, “God, in my heart of hearts I really don’t trust you.”?

          What if I said, “Jesus, I really do love you, but I am not willing to stop doing the repugnant stuff that I still enjoy.”?

          Not only is it more honest, but it changes the conversation.

I have had those conversations with my kid, and other people, where although the words were being heard, they had absolutely no effect.  Those conversations of “I promise I will never do that again.” And as the person is saying it you know they are so full of it that their breath smells like a fart.

       The conversation with God, and what is prayer but not a conversation, is now more expansive, and leads to more interesting prayers.  Stuff like...

“Dear God, sorry for being a being of limited insight and intelligence, but the only life I can really be sure of having is the one that is before me now.  It is more than a little challenge to treat this life as disposable in the interest of following you.  Please, mend my distrusting heart, and lead me into a fuller understanding of you.  And if you could add Poutine to the celestial menu that would be greatly appreciated.”

         

After all, if God does desire an intimate involvement in my life, and I am kind of skeptical about that, then he would already know what is in my heart.  And, if he doesn’t know what is in my heart, what better place to start being totally honest?  I think it is in the laying of my life open, that I can be most open to the transformation of the Holy Spirit.