Where's God?
That's something I've been struggling with recently and that struggle was exposed like a naked baby's bottom tonight at mass. It's not like Fr. Meconi stood up there and said "hey yall, that girl over to your life in the yellow sundress is struggling to know God." It wasn't exposed to the world, per se. But I felt like Fr. Meconi was talking to me, just to me. It didn't matter that there were 2,000+ other students in the church, he was talking to me.
Where's God?
Fr. Meconi told a story of a late-night talk he and some buddies had when he was in grad school years ago. The topic of discussion: what one question would you ask a person to get to know them the best, the deepest, and the most quickly? What would you ask? I couldn't come up with anything substantial in the 26 seconds he gave us to think about it. But his answer dropped me to my knees. What is your most painful memory?
What is your most painful memory?
loaded question.
that's the point.
I don't want to talk about it.
that's the point.
I bet your most painful memory is one where you have trouble seeing God's presence. He's there. He always is. He knows about pain--look at the cross--that doesn't mean He likes it or necessitates it. But through our pain, we come to know God, we come to need Him. God never pushes himself on us. He walks beside us and lets us do our thing until we invite Him to join us. He comes to us on our terms--that's the whole 'free will' thing. He'll let us walk away but that doesn't mean He leaves us.
Our God is a God for the broken. I don't know about yours but I know my heart is broken. My heart is broken ways that I often feel are unfixable. There have been days when I journal "I just want to be whole again." I'm not gonna say that isn't possible but for now my brokenness is where I'm at and guess what...that's okay, because our God is a God for the broken. He knows what my most painful memory is. Not the one I'm thinking of but the one I've buried so deep inside that it seems like I've forgotten.
But pain hurts. How come God didn't stop it? If He cared, wouldn't He stop it? How can god be present when something like that is happening? ...especially if He loves me the way people say He does. I don't understand. I get the truths: 1. God loves me with a crazy unmerited, undeserved, unrelenting love. 2. God doesn't cause pain. 3. God is always with me. So explain to me how this all-loving God can be present while the one He loves is enduring such terrible pain and not intervene. Explain it to me please. And don't just tell me that it hurts Him to see me hurt or that He's there watching...through His tears. No. If I ever see someone I love in pain, I'm going to do whatever I can to lessen that burden. I'd at least try.
I don't know how to answer this issue. I wrote a paper related to this last semester--perhaps its time for a reread. What I do know is that walking away isn't going to get me where I want to go. I've walked far enough away enough times and I don't like where it has gotten me...because, guess what....I have no idea where I'm going. I think I know but then I'm wrong and wrong again and again.
One night I dreamed I was walking along the beach with the Lord.
Many scenes from my life flashed across the sky.
In each scene I noticed footprints in the sand.
Sometimes there were two sets of footprints,
other times there was one only.
This bothered me
because I noticed that during the low periods of my life,
when I was suffering from anguish, sorrow or defeat,
I could see only one set of footprints,
so I said to the Lord,
“You promised me Lord,
that if I followed you, you would walk with me always.
But I have noticed that during the most trying periods of my life
there has only been one set of footprints in the sand.
Why, when I needed you most, have you not been there for me?”
The Lord replied,
“The years when you have seen only one set of footprints,
my child, is when I carried you.”
Cute, right? Well, I run...even from this. I'm getting tired...but there's a part of me that is afraid to stop, a part of me that thinks I can't turn around.
After mass tonight, I sent Fr. Meconi an email thanking him for letting the Spirit move through him tonight and telling him that sometimes I just need to hear those words spoken by someone I respect and trust...his response "well, then, quit running."
or at least run in the right direction.
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