Approaching God

There are times when the distance between myself and God seems more vast than the dark recesses of space. Eventually I will reach the point of conviction, desperation, and longing, that I will set out to conquer that vast distance. The problem I then face is “How do I approach God?” As one who has allowed the relationship to fall into disarray. As the one who has betrayed and abandoned my savior and God, to pursue my own perverse desires, pleasure, and pride. There are a thousand answers to the question “How do I approach God?” Prayer, devotion, meditation, scripture reading, scripture memorization, Christian community, the sacraments, social justice, worship, and the list goes on. While these acts are certainly  good things, they ignore the major issue. The issue is not that I am unable to read scripture or pray, the problem is that I am overwhelmed by my sinfulness. My sinfulness makes me feel unworthy to pray to the God I’ve betrayed. My guilt keeps me from reading the scriptures I’ve betrayed.

But there is an even greater danger in offering the typical list of “Christian good deeds” as a means of returning to God. It is the danger of earning our salvation. Anytime I think or believe that I can return to a proper relationship with God through my own prayers, devotion, sacrifice, etc, I am approaching God on my own terms. I am asking God to restore our relationship based on my efforts and my works. I am making myself a god, in demanding that God accept your terms from reconciliation. I am saying, “God, I know I messed up, but once you see all the good things I do, you’ll have to accept me.”

For this reason I have to emphasize that the first consideration when approaching God, is that He must be approached on His terms. I don’t get to choose how, why, or if He accepts me. I humbly submit to His will. I seek to follow his decrees for my life. Like Christ I must pray, “Not my will, but your will be done.” This takes humility. It takes me realizing that I must allow God to be God and me to be his servant. I don’t get to draw up the contract. I just sign at the dotted line.

The strange thing is that once you complete this step you find that the way back to God is a far simpler and far shorter path than originally anticipated. It is stepping anew into His grace and mercy. Realizing that the my effort isn’t the means God has provided for my salvation. It involves me putting my futile efforts to earn what God has already given me in Christ. It involves me engaging the power of the Spirit I have already received.

Now there is nothing wrong with scripture reading, prayer, meditation, social justice, and the other activities I mentioned earlier. They are in fact good and commendable things. Unless you are relying upon them for a good standing before God. Unless you are allowing them to substitute the cross. But when you have the cross and are relying upon Christ for your salvation. Then you can begin to pray as you ought to thanking God for his salvation, instead of attempting to earn it through “pious” prayers. Then you can begin to read scripture as one who is submitting to the author of scripture, instead of using scripture as a means of prideful self-assurance.

So when you come to God or when you seek God. Make sure you are seeking Him on His terms, not your own.

Read Full Post »

Seeking and Searching

I’ve got a thought that’s bouncing around my head like a ball in a pinball machine. I try to pin it down, but then it’s nowhere to be seen. Trying to grasp it is like hugging smoke. And the worst part of the joke is knowing deep down inside that whatever I’m straining at, whatever I’m seeking for is something important. And though I may have heard it or seen it or passed it by I thousand times or more, it won’t stop clawing at the back or my brain. Yet when i get there all that’s left are the claw marks, the old ashes, when all I need is a spark, a new start. And it bother’s me when I sit still, that I can’t arrest this thought I’ve been pursuing. I don’t know whether it eludes me because of lack of effort or lack of skill. But I’ve got to keep chasing it, or perhaps it is chasing me. Like a ghost from the past it haunts me. Yet only whispers when it wants to scream. It only shows up in the background of some half forgotten dream. And the problem is I’m too awake to see it, to rational to perceive it. But like a shadow, I just can’t shake it off. It follows me at the times I least expect. It comes and goes like clouds in the sky. But I swear its there, yet I don’t know why. And I don’t know how I can know why. I’ve just got to try. And I’ll kick the ground out beneath my feet, pull the sky out of its loft home, thrash the oceans till they retreat. I’ll turn myself inside out, look a thousand places, examine every fear and doubt, dive into dark unsavory spaces. Until. Until I find that thought that’s eluding me, till that answer I’ve been running from catches up with me, till I find what I’ve been searching for… then I’ll fold it nice and neat and close it up in a drawer and forget how hard I searched, how madly I fought to find that one elusive thing, it’ll become some cheap worthless thing like a cracker-jack ring. But hopefully one day I’ll come back and open that draw and be reminded of something I always knew but never remembered. I’ll uncover a treasure in my own back yard, and discover that it wasn’t that hard, to find something that’s been there all along.

Read Full Post »

People I don’t Like

You ever have people you just can’t stand to be around? Well sometimes I’m that for myself. And it’s terribly hard for me to get away from myself.

Read Full Post »

Travels

At 4:45 pm central standard time on Wednesday June 9th Anno Domini 2010, I was being driven to the airport by a beautiful young lady with very few cares in the world. Aside from having to leave the lady for a brief period of time, my life was smiles and sunshine. I was about to depart on a plane which would carry me off to Europe where I would saunter about in Budapest, Italy, and “Turkey 2010.” When jesting about possible items I may have forgotten, my lovely chauffeur, mentioned my passport. When the word reached my ears the mirth left my demeanor. The color fled my face, leaving it a pale and pasty white. My heart skipped a few beats, and then realizing its mistake tried to make up for it by beating at a more rapid pace. The cares which I mentioned earlier, having previously number very few, somehow managed to propagate at exponential rates for their number had now risen to a sizable multitude.

My mind now fighting against this multitude of cares, decided that the best course of action would be to stop the car. My lips seemed to agree and they said “stop the car” or something to that effect. My driver humbly pointed out that the interstate is not the best place to cease movement in an automobile. After considering this counter argument, I concurred and when a suitable stopping place arrived we pulled over. I scoured my bags and pockets looking for the passport, which as some of my more astute readers have already figured out I had no earthly clue where it was located. After scouring my bags I made some calls to Dallas which was the last place I had seen my passport. My friend not being able to find it there, gave me hope that I had brought it with me. I returned to the friends house where I had been staying, I tore apart his house and my car, but to no avail. At this point my lovely chauffeur had to depart for her job. Fearing that my passport had fled this mortal life, I made an appointment at the passport office in Dallas. I hopped in my car and proceeded to the airport. Explaining my situation to the people behind the counter I discovered they were not prepared to deal with the situation and I received a number. With this number in hand I set off on the 470 mile drive to Dallas at about 7 pm. Making several calls I was informed that it would be a $200 penalty for rescheduling my flight, plus however much more the new flight would cost. At 7:20 my flight took off into the east as I drove west.

After 470 miles, many CDs, two gas stops, two sting cheeses, one granola bar, one power bar, one 5 hour energy drink, and  a gatorade I arrived in Dallas at approximately 2:30 am. I found my wallet hidden underneath a a pile of papers. I also found that a banana had been left in my room and an army of fruit flies had been attacking it in my absence. After discovering my wallet, discarding the banana, and canceling my appointment at the passport office, I retired to sleep about 3:00 am.

After hitting the snooze twice I rolled out of bed at 8:10 am on June 10th. After taking a much needed shower, stretching my back, and making sure I still had my passport with me, I got back into the car and proceeded to return the 470 miles I had traversed the previous day. I called the airline and found out that my ticket now would cost nearly double the amount I had booked it for originally. Then after one stop, and two burritos I arrived at about 4:00 pm. At 4:45 pm central standard time I once again was driven by my lovely chauffeur to the airport, this time making it all the way there, with all esential documents in my possession.

Now the first one generally wants to do after driving 900 miles in less than 24 hours is to sit in a confined space for an extended period of time. The middle seat of the middle isle of a transatlantic economy class flight is the perfect place to fulfill this desire. It also helps when the people sitting on either side of you have no personal space issues, and as a result feel perfectly fine with sleeping with their arm or back against your body, contorting you into a human sandwich of slight awkwardness. Whenever this happens there is a struggle which wells up inside me. My first impulse is to avoid contact, I don’t particularly like having strangers pressed against me for many hours. This first impulse is checked by my desiree not to implode. Like a nation being attacked from two different sides, I realize that there is only so far I can retreat before collapsing in upon myself. Like that nation I resolve to guard my borders, if the two nations on either side of me decide to expand any further they must do so outward and not inward. This is the point where I clamp my arms down upon the armrests and for any pressure exerted against them is met with equal resistance.

After crossing the atlantic I experienced a form of posture which consists of not sitting and moving your legs. I believe the kids these days are calling it walking. It does wonders for the kinks and aches one develops from sitting and not moving your legs. After that brief period of relaxation I was placed between two new individuals who understood the concept of personal space and flown off to Budapest. I arrived in Budapest at 4:00 pm local time, on Friday, June 12. This means that it would have been 11:00 am Friday, June 12th central standard time. This means that in the 42 hours and 15 minutes I have just described to you I drove 940 miles and flew 5272 miles for a grand total of 6212 miles travelled. Now it is time to stretch my legs.

Read Full Post »