Need, Need, Need

The simplest things reach inside me and make me into something else. Pressure to say the right words, or perform in the best way possible. I only needed to encourage someone. Easy enough for me; I like seeing people perk up.
     This one wasn't a simple case. Pain was involved that I can only begin to grasp from afar. Frustration with God Himself, thoughts of punishment and self-pity. How could I help, I who's been given endless blessings, overflowing?
     I still don't know how to answer that, but I found out something else tonight. God feels our nerves and pain when things are hard, but He also likes it. It sounds weird and calloused, but it broke my heart when I thought it through. The hurt He shares with us is worth it, and doubled since His loved ones are hurting. Why is it worth it, and why does He love those moments of pain?
     If you're ready to burst with joy because everything in your life is going wonderfully, you overflow with praise for a while. But soon, you get used to the joy, and if given years of it, we would forget Him. I begin to forget Him after just a few days of perfect circumstances.
     When the pressure turns on, and I can't rely on myself, that's when I beg Him to come. Hard things, cruelty, abuse, stretching things, anger, deceit, hypocrisy from others...when these come, I need, need, NEED Him. I don't stop talking to Him. Nothing can tear my eyes from His face, because I can see the cliff I'll fall off if I do.
     I have a new perspective on hard things, now. I'm endlessly selfish, and this seems to be the only way to make me be who God made me to be. Utterly dependent. Nothing I can do on my own. It made me feel like an idiot that I need to go through hard things to be close to Him, but that's how it is. Not always. I just forget easily. I know God loves who I'm made to be after a changing experience, but He likes to see it happen, too.  The hard things don't seem so hard when they're nudging me toward the One I love the most.

Part Five: I am Not Mad

Jonas thought that he could go live in an ice cave like a hibernating bear after eating two plates of ham and potatoes, with rolls on the side. He didn’t think an ice cave would be pleasant; that’s only how he felt. When the giant clock across the room bonged 1:00, making Jonas choke on his water, Jones, James, and John stood as if they all shared two legs. They bowed toward Madame and strode through the door, one after another. Jonas watched them go, but he didn’t stop eating.
     “You might grow two inches after eating all that energy,” Madame said, sipping from a glass goblet. She had a tiny red smudge of jam on her lip.
     “At least three,” Jonas said, swallowing first. He looked at the smudge, but she only smirked and cut open another roll. “Could we talk about the family emergency now?”
     Madame let the roll rest between her teeth and narrowed her eyes. “Not yet,” she said, setting the bread back on the silver bread plate.
     “Could you give me an estimate of time that will-“
     “Talk like a normal boy, boy,” Madame said, pushing her chair back. “You can’t be older than ten. I want you to be an impressionable child, silenced by food and interesting sights. Can you do this?”
     Jonas blinked at her, and she beckoned him to follow. He slipped through the heavy door before it could close, afraid to be left in the room alone. The three men could come back, and do things eerily as one while he could only watch. He thought this as an excuse, to convince himself that interesting sights and food hadn’t distracted him from his goal. Madame was striding down the hall with great strides, and he had to run to catch her.
     “You’ve eaten, and you’ve proven your intelligence,” Madame bellowed. “Follow me, follow me.” Jonas looked behind him before he obeyed, wondering if the dolls would be better than a woman who was proving her insanity every moment. He wished fervently to be outside his gate, waiting. This didn’t feel like waiting, not with all the hustle and curtains and rooms they were passing through. Madame’s shoes clicked down stairs, and Jonas descended into the dark. The dolls and the three men seemed far away, and when his fingers brushed fur in his haste to find Madame, he gasped. “Follow, follow, boy,” Madame whispered from far ahead. Jonas jerked his hand away from the cold hair and ran. A door rattled open, and light streamed into the cold hall. He couldn’t stop himself from looking back, and he saw pacing yellow eyes before the door rattled shut again. “Don’t be so slow,” Madame hissed, halfway across the bright room. Jonas peered around, disgruntled.
     “You’ve eaten, and you haven’t necessarily proven your intelligence, Madame,” Jonas said in a clear voice. Madame stopped, but didn’t turn back. Jonas put his hand over his mouth and watched her shoulders shake.
     “I am not mad, Jonas Barry,” she said, still staring forward. “I am only different.”

Again, Where is God?

     Sometimes I think of God as I do of the Earth. It's so big, I hardly know it's there. It's round, it's moving fast, but it's too big to see. Like Yankee Doodle, I can't see the city because there are so many houses.
     God is everywhere. Why do I beg Him to be present? When I'm scared, or depressed, or stressed, why is my prayer that He would be near me? I know that there is no place we can hide from Him. I give myself too much credit if I think I can sin enough to make Him leave, while His grace still continues for those on Earth. Across the sea, below the Earth, in the darkest part of a city, He is there. I don't always feel Him. It seems then that He has stepped away, waiting patiently until I cleaned the vomit from my chin and wash my hands with bleach. As if my sin could push Him around, tuck Him away until I straighten up.
     Not so, I am humiliated to realize. God is always there, so where does He go when we can't feel Him?
Stand in the middle of a field, under a tree. Stand in a garden, surrounded by waving corn. Stand on a road in North Dakota, with yellow growth spreading out as far as the Earth goes. Close your eyes.
     Everything is still there.
Your eyes stare at blackness, maybe with a red tint from the sunlight. Still air, and dirt beneath your shoes. Easy enough to say the tree is gone, the plants are gone, the yellow is gone, God is gone. But that is not truth. That is not supported by any fact. No evidence, only the feeling of a moment of blindness.
     When I want the glory of God in my church, my home, I'm going to ask for it differently. God's grace is so great that in the darkest of places, He is still there, watching us with pained love in His eyes. When our eyes are stretched open, and we see Him, we worship Him with all that we are, He is there. When our eyes are shut, or squinting open halfway, fluttering between vision and blindness, He is still there, waiting for us to look and see His beauty.
     It's comforting and solemnizing. God isn't one to know everything as He watches from a great tower of Heaven. He knows everything because He is there, inside the knowledge, watching it all unfold. I feel nothing but faith, at times, but I have that trust that He is all around me. I want those moments of blindness to be short, and I want to open my eyes even while my hands are still dirty. I can never get clean enough anyway. I shouldn't waste time waiting until I feel clean and then begging Him to come. Not when He's waiting there with His hands held out for me to take.
     Annie Dillard had a friend that was blind, and was healed of her blindness. The friend could not see in three dimensions. She had no concept of depth or distance. She saw things as patches of color, splotched across her eyes. Annie Dillard tried to imitate her friend, and managed to see the world as colors, not things, for just a moment. I've tried it many times, and I can only do it halfway.
     Envisioning God all around me, even as I sin and close my eyes to Him, brought Annie to my mind. God's omnipresence is difficult to comprehend. We have no examples of what it is like. I wonder if I look at the world as patches of color, with no depth or distance, nothing beyond what I've been told is there. I want to take the cap off everything, and let it spill over into the sky. God doesn't end. He is everywhere. I only have to open my eyes and see what He wants to show me.
     What a terrifying God. "Fearful in praises, doing wonders." The song of Moses, Exodus 15, is fascinating.     I beg Him to open my eyes to His presence, already here.