I think I’ve mentioned before that I get frustrated because
I feel like I ask God questions, and I feel like I’m listening and waiting, and
I’m greeted with a big resounding silence. I feel if He would speak up from
time to time, when I ask, He might save me, and subsequently others, a lot of
pain. Do I expect the clouds to part and a big booming voice out of the sky? Not
exactly, but that would be nice. I do feel like I’m trying to listen. I know in
the past I’ve been guilty of not hearing what I don’t want to hear, but I
really don’t feel like that’s in the space I’m in now. I really do want to
know. And the more I don’t know, the more willing I am to tell God I’ll accept
whatever the answer is, but the more I don’t hear.
How does God talk to us? I think He can talk to us through
others. I’ve had him talk to me a few awesome cool times in a dream like crossed with a blatant reality state
(see my post on Restoration). That would be superb - for that to happen again! {In
fact, honestly, every time I doubt myself about my belief, I remember that
moment suspended in time when He plainly spoke to me, and I KNOW. You might
think I just made a rhyme, but that for real totally happened.} I also feel He
talks to us by bringing things repeatedly to our attention – in the past year
by bringing random scriptures to my attention multiple times in a week or in a
day.
So today at lunch somehow my brother and I end up talking
about the Jews, and how they were God’s Chosen people, but how many of them do
not accept Christ and thus while chosen, the won’t be with God. Scott was
saying some people think they’ll be with God no matter what they do because He
chose them, and how others (including me) do not, unless they put their faith
in Jesus. Anyway, I was saying how even before Christ, the Chosen Jews were
never happy or satisfied or trusting in God. I threw out there as an example
that God gave them manna when they were starving, but they whined about that
even, saying they wanted meat. Then He gave them meat, and they were still
whining. Why would he CHOOSE people like THAT?
On the drive home I texted my youth pastor, because I had a
bit of free time, and I wanted to talk to him about some heavy concerns I have about
non-related items, and he says cool, come on. So then, (I know, I’m driving,
but I was out of the No Phone Zone) I think I better open up the lesson for
tonight so I know what we are talking about when I get to youth group. I read
the question and see the Bible reference is Exodus 16. I really step out of my
regular realm and actually look up the verses in advance instead of while we
are in the lesson like I usually do. Do you know what Exodus 16 is about?
FREAKING MEAT AND MANNA.
I got angry. I literally yelled out loud – I’m sure the
neighboring cars were delighted. I think my exact words were something like
this: “Really, God? REALLY? I’m asking you to talk to me and that’s what you’ve
got? Manna and meat? You have got to be freaking kidding me!” And the more I
think about it, the madder I get. Why does God have to be cryptic? Yes, I yell
that out too. Yes, I’m crazy. Why does everything, everything, have to be a
riddle? I am asking directly. Why isn’t He telling me directly? What’s with the
parables? I get angrier and angrier.
I try to take a calm step back (still wearing my boxing
gloves). I try to apply it to my current quandary. Okay, so obviously, I’m not
satisfied with what He’s given me. What’s that mean? That the man I’m seeing He
has given me and I just can’t accept it and be satisfied and I have to go
nosing around for a different one? Or the fact that I’m seeking a man at all,
when He’s already given me a great job, and awesome daughter, a beautiful home,
incredible friends, good health – the bills are paid and we are blessed beyond
measure? Which one? How am I supposed to know? He answers a question with a
question? I tell Him, if you never want me to have a man, if that is not your
plan, THEN JUST TELL ME. I’ll accept it. JUST TELL ME. Open up the bloody sky and shout it down upon me. I'm ready. And it’s taken me a long
time to come around to telling Him I’ll accept it. But I will. Because I’m so
tired of this merry-go-round. If it’s not in His Plan, then it’s not in His
Plan. Just tell me what the plan is. All I’m asking – I’ll accept it.
I’ll accept it. But I’m angry.
By the time I get to Reverend RSTLNE’s office (he recently
tried out for Wheel of Fortune and he needs a New Name), what I wanted to talk
about in the first place was long lost. I was angry to the point of wanting to
scream, and since that’s socially unacceptable, here come the tears. I couldn’t
stop them. And he’s the one that wrote the stupid lesson in the first place, so
he deserves this. Over quite a few tears I spilled it out. Patting my face with
a McDonald’s napkin (only pastor ever lacking in Kleenex apparently). All of it
– well, a lot of it. Enough of it. The anger paint got splattered on the Reverend's wall
and ran down it.
And Mr. RSTLNE thinks I already know the application.
Sigh. Why is it so easy for others to see and not for me to see? It comes down
to this though, skipping a few measures now….. I don’t think that what God is
telling me to wait for even exists. I don’t think He can do it. Or more likely
He could do it, He just won’t do it. To punish me. Because I screwed it all up.
Because I disobeyed. Because I made poor choices. Because I didn’t listen. And
so here’s my due desserts.
Later I talked to the guy I’ve been seeing and told him I
couldn’t do this – this relationship. He was going to get hurt and I was going
to get hurt, and I didn’t want to put either of us through that. I used cliché
lines, like “it isn’t you, it’s me” and “I really still want to be friends.” I
felt I owed him an explanation – because he is HOT and sweet and kind and
patient and fun and a good dancer. I told him that quite a few years back I was
living life my way, dating or whatever I was doing my way, and I kept falling
flatter and flatter on my own face. Over quite a few face splatters (not just
one or two), God and I had a slow talk. The end result was that I realized my
way was obviously not working at all, and I’d never really even tried it His
way. I committed to doing it His way – thinking in 12 months I’d have my just
reward for my sacrifice. That was 3.5 years ago. In 2015, at 40 years old, the
way I’m doing things is pretty weird. But I’m still trying to walk that. It’s
hard. I believe the man is supposed to be the spiritual leader in a home – I
want someone who will lead, who I can submit to. But if I date someone who is
not committed to the same agenda, to obedience to the same God, then I am
leading, and I’m the only one drawing a line in the sand, and I will fail. So I
want a man who will lead – who will draw lines in the sand – and drink beer.
100 years ago what I was seeking was completely normal and
expected. But now, I’m a religious zealot. I mean, that’s completely cray-cray
in the USA in 2015 when you’re 40.
So there you have it. The Israelites wandered for 40 years
and then 40 years again.
So now I’m on the next 40 years.
I am *so* encouraged by that. I should be a petrified raisin
by then. Without getting too graphic.
