When God Doesn't Come Through for You

It seems to me that one of the things we have to battle as we get older is cynicism.  Life teaches you a lot of things and some of the lessons are not exactly the kind that lend themselves to developing a tender heart.

Last night at our Bible study, a friend shared a story about her 4 year old son who jumped from the door of their van into her arms.  When she asked her son if he was scared, he said, in complete faith, "No, Mama.  I wasn't scared. Because Jesus is with me."

I am not necessarily proud to say that my first thought was "Yeah, give him a few years.  Life will teach him a thing or two."  The first time he falls instead of being caught and skins an elbow, he'll probably be fine.  But the next time, when he jumps and someone cruel steps out of the way and he smashes full force into the ground, he'll probably start to doubt whether Jesus is always with him. And then I thought something like "You cynical bitch.  You ought to be ashamed of yourself for even thinking something like that."  But that's what I'm saying...sometimes life seems like nothing if not a fight against cynicism.

It may have not helped that I'd had a really tough week.  Jeremy and I started going to a Bible study a few months ago after taking almost a 2 year break from anything church or Bible study related.  We have our reasons for that, as most people do.  I would say hurt and disillusionment with the church establishments and Christians has a lot to do with it.  That's a story for another time, but I'm guessing there are those out there who can relate.

Nevertheless, we tentatively decided to dip our toes back into the waters of the church community and honestly, this Bible study has been really good for both of us.

We are studying Romans Chapter 8 right now and we were given a little homework last week.  Throughout the week, we were to look for examples of and answer the question "What does following the Spirit look like in your daily life?"

I have to admit, I was really excited about this assignment and about the discussions we would have the following week.  I totally believed and trusted that God will give me some cool stories to share. I've often been in a situation where I have prayed about something and asked the Spirit within me to guide me and miracles have happened.  Little miracles, yes.  Sometimes just a change in my perception that made the whole situation appear differently.  Sometimes an option opening up that I didn't even know existed.  Sometimes a change in someone else's attitude or feelings.

I have long struggled with believing that "God is always good and I am always loved" but one thing that God and I had going was these little prayers I would pray for Spirit's guidance and involvement and then these little miracles happening.  It was our special, sacred dance.

I think I can honestly say that I had no doubt (read:  I was full of faith) that I would come back to Bible study the next week with a story or two of how I was "mad at my co-worker, and then I prayed and the feelings just dissolved and I felt nothing but love in my heart...a true miracle" or how I was "struggling with frustration with my kids and then I asked the Holy Spirit to help me and He just gave me this window into my son's soul and I felt such compassion and connection with him".  Yeah, something like that.

Instead, my week was pretty much a shit show.  Internally I struggled and struggled and when I prayed, there was no breakthrough.  Instead, I seemed to just get mired deeper in the muck of my insecurities and fears and I felt like I was fighting the same demons that I've had way too many go-rounds with already.

I put up a valiant fight...tried to remind myself of the truth of how God sees me...read words of truth...tried to pray and ask for perspective, but honestly, I just keep circling deeper into the abyss of anxiety and fear and mind-whirling, life-sucking craziness.  And in the midst of all this I kept thinking "God!! Where's my miracle?"

After 4 or 5 days of this just getting worse, I felt like God was a million miles away and the sky was made of lead.  My half hearted prayers seemed to bounce off the ceiling and eventually I couldn't even really figure out what to say anymore.  Does a hurt and bewildered "What the f*** is going on?" count as a prayer?

On the way to Bible study Jeremy said "Oh, I just now remembered about that assignment we had last week" and I said "I've thought of it over and over this week."  And then I told him how I didn't have one single story to share.  And then I started to cry.  Just quiet tears rolling down my cheeks.

I felt the Spirit say "Maybe you just need to go in there and be real and tell everyone how your week went" and something in me immediately said "NO!"  That would feel too vulnerable.  Too un-celebratory.  Really?  Go in there and say "Yeah, I expected God to show up for me.  And He didn't."

I didn't have the heart to hear other people tell me why I had done something wrong or hear them explain how God had shown up for THEM.  But I've also learned that when you feel that prompting, you probably ought to just do it, so I said "Ok, God.  I'll tell them."

It ended up being a smaller group than usual and it was the people that I knew the best, so I feel like that was a little smile from God.  The feeling of love and openess in the group was apparent right from the beginning of the study and so part way through I just said "Well, let me tell you how my week went."  And then I started to cry.  Again.

I hate to cry in front of other people.  It embarrasses me.  I also hate to be comforted by other people when I'm crying.  I hate sympathetic looks.  But honestly, last night, I just felt love and understanding. It felt like Jesus.

Our friend Dusty said "Maybe sometimes when we go through a week like that, God just wants to teach us to trust even WHEN we don't feel Him and even when He doesn't seem to show up for us."

But that makes me feel like the 10 year old kid sitting on the curb with his baseball mitt in his hand, waiting for his Dad to pick him up (he's a no show again) and hearing his Mom make excuses like "I'm sure he's just running late" or "He must have had a work emergency. I'm sure he'll be here any minute" and the boy knowing in his heart that its all lies.  His Dad just doesn't care.  He's not gonna show up because the boy isn't worth it.  And as the sun sets and no red pick up truck roars around the corner, he faces the harsh reality that he's been let down again and a tiny part of his soul just shrivels up and dies.

I don't want to make excuses for God.  Why should I have to?  I just want Him to be there and I don't want to have to question it.

If there is one thing that I've understood less about God than anything else, I think it would have to be this..."Why, when I ask for something good out of a pure heart, does God not just delight in doing that thing for me...all the time??"

I don't get it.  All I wanted was a tiny little miracle or two.  I wanted His spirit to work in me and I wanted to share my story with others.  Is that so wrong?

When Dusty asked, gently, "Did you feel like God let you down this week?" I could only nod through my tears.  I hadn't realized it till then but hell, yeah, I felt like God let me down.  I felt like He not only let me down, but He set me up to jump out of the van door and then He stepped to the side and let me crash face first into the ground.  How cruel!  And why?

And then He whispered to me, in my brokenness, "Do you still believe I'm good, even when I don't seem to show up?  Do you trust me when my presence doesn't look like you expected it to?  Do you choose to believe the truth that I am 'always with you' even when you can't feel me?"

"That's what I'm trying to teach you, my dear girl.  I was there in the love you felt from the Bible study group tonight.  I was there in the midst of your struggle but you were looking for me from your narrow point of view.  I was right beside you in your emotional pain and turmoil and you were too self-focused to reach out and take my hand.

I was there in the ice on the puddles that you photographed and in the love that you felt from your husband.  I was whispering through pain instead of shouting through joy and your hearing aids were just turned down.  That's all.  Can you trust Me in that?"

I'm not going to pretend to have a summary or a happy ending or a pretty bow to wrap this up in.

I just know that "if not God, then what?"  He's proved His faithfulness to me time and time again, I HAVE to believe He exists and that He loves me.  So that's where I stand.  Or sit.  Or lay down and cry and beat my fists into the ground.  Because what is faith if not when we just.don't.get.it??

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