Haven't blogged in awhile; maybe this is why ...
I was driving down I-10 the other day and came up on a bumper sticker that said, "If you don't feel close to God, guess who moved!"
The implication, of course, is that God never changes so it must be me. If I don't feel close to God, it must be my fault.
Which is true ... but not all the time.
King Saul felt God's absence, and for good reason: God had left him. But still I can't help but feel some empathy for Saul as he vainly tried to connect with God again. He tried to pray but got nothing. He sent for the preachers to see if they had a message for him from God, but they didn't. He tried to sleep in hope that God would speak to him in a dream but tossed and turned all night. Finally, he was so desperate he sought out a witch. God had departed from Saul, but it's amazing to see how deeply Saul felt that absence.
But it can't always be the God has left us. Job certainly felt the absence of God's presence. He even went so far as to say (in my very loose paraphrase), "I know I'm righteous God, but what about You? If you were a man, I'd sue you and there's not a judge or jury who wouldn't convict You!"
We attribute most of the Psalms to David, and we talk about David as a "man after God's own heart." Yet the Psalms are full of a righteous man crying out to know why God is silent, why God seems to have removed His presence, turned His back, hidden His face. It's in the Psalms that we hear the cry "My God, why have you forsaken me?" Surely some of the times the person crying that had not "moved."
Of course we know that phrase best from the cross, where Jesus cried out when He felt abandoned by God. Surely we wouldn't say to Jesus, "if you don't feel close to God, it must be you who moved away!"
Sometimes I know I increase my distance from God. But sometimes I can't help but wonder if God doesn't move a little further away from me.
Or at least it feels that way.
I think about my experience this summer with MG. The accident left her helpless. And I hated it for her. As she started the road to recovery, I wanted to make that road as smooth as possible. If she was in pain, I would encourage her to take another pain pill and to heck with the recommended dosage. If she tried to sit up, I'd gently grab both her legs so they'd move together, putting as little strain on her recovering hips as possible. When she needed to dress, I'd gladly hold her clothes and put them over her. I'd dropped down and carefully put on her shoes for her. I was there for her!
Fortunately for MG, I wasn't there all the time. When I wasn't, SaraBeth was. And SaraBeth was wiser and, to be honest, more caring for MG. When SaraBeth was there and her mom wanted to sit up, SaraBeth would watch and encourage, telling MG how well she was doing. If MG needed to get dressed, SaraBeth would bring her mother's clothes to her, and then let her Mom begin the process of putting them on herself. Same thing with the shoes. Oh, sometimes SaraBeth would reach in and help when MG was tangled or frustrated; sometimes it was as simple as putting MG's hand in the right place, or untangling a T-shirt. I don't mean to say SaraBeth didn't do anything for her mother; she did. But as MG improved, SaraBeth would encourage her mother to do these things; she became both her mother's biggest cheerleader and best source of strength, because she helped MG know MG was strong enough to do what she needed to do.
SaraBeth was there for her mother, just as I was. But there was a difference.
At times with SaraBeth, it had to feel to MG as if SaraBeth wasn't there, that MG was on her own.
MG wasn't alone of course, and realistically she knew SaraBeth was right there. But when it came to doing those simple tasks that I would rush to do for MG, SaraBeth didn't do until it was obvious MG couldn't do them herself.
Maybe that's like God. I know there are times when I feel distant from God. Now, I know God has promised to never leave and never forsake us, and I cling to that promise - especially when I feel like God has indeed forsaken me.
Does God move? Or do we just experience God as being absent?
Either way, how do we deal with that?
As I read back through this, I don't want to be misunderstood. I'm not saying "God helps those who help themselves" or suggests that sometimes God tells us it is time for us to do it on our own.
But I wonder if God doesn't at times say, "OK, I've prepared you for this. I've given you all the tools to deal with what's coming. I'm still here, right beside you, but you need to deal with this from a position of faith, believing that I'm nearby even when I'm silent, confident that I'm with you even when you don't feel me."
Maybe that's it. Our relationship with God is a real relationship, in that just like with our parents or our loved ones or our friends, we make memories. And those memories carry us when we're distant from each other.
I remember the times I felt God's presence. I remember the times I could swear I heard His voice. I remember that feeling I got that time singing "Holy Holy Holy" or when I held the cup at communion and was struck at what it represented or the time I held my child in my arms and sang "Praise God from whom all blessing flow ..." as if it were a lullaby.
We remember.
And sure enough, sooner than we realize, we feel His presence again.
