I learned something new about God today that shouldn't feel like an aha, but it does.
I realized I worry too much about discerning God's "perfect will for my life," and too little just enjoying God's overwhelming love for me.
There's a big difference.
One feels like a blindfolded Easter egg hunt where, if you don't find the eggs, you failed. The other feels like sliding into a warm bath, with candles, a glass of wine and music in your ears.
Asking better questions
When I came back around to faith in Christ, after a long time away, I landed in the non-denominational/evangelical world, which seemed to place a premium on "not running out ahead of God."
I always took that to mean, waiting patiently for the will of God to develop before me, like a Polaroid, before taking action.
There's wisdom in waiting of course, but when it's emphasized over say, walking by faith and not by sight, it can be paralyzing. Absent a burning bush, which most of us are, we have to guess a lot, taking risks on a prayerful hunch.
The follow-up question I never asked, but I'm asking now is:
If I do run out ahead of God, even accidentally, what happens then?
Does God punish me? Does he withhold blessing, so I'll be more discerning in the future, less precocious? Does he ignore me at the dinner table, to signal his disappointment?
God doesn't do that. Humans do.
So it's no wonder people are terrified to make a move, preferring instead to wait forever for a burning bush.
I didn't think that was me, until today.
What changed?
It pains me to say it, but Firegirl Friend Camp Pagosa is on the ropes. This was set to be our 15th retreat, and try as I might, it's not filling. Feel free to surprise me, but I'm inches from cancelling it, which is a first. As you might imagine, I have big feelings about that.
When something disappoints me like this, I usually, unwittingly, attach the God-is-withholding framework to it.
"Well this must not have been your will for me God, that's why it didn't work. Sorry I ran out ahead."
Can you hear the shame? It's dripping with it. I didn't pray enough, do enough, wait long enough, I was willful and wrong. Not good enough.
As though that's the only possible explanation. (The business owner in me rolls her eyes.)
But that was the aha.
Because God is love, he is incapable of withholding love from me as a corrective measure. He'd have to violate his own identity.
The basics of God's will are not at all mysterious - love God and neighbor. Beyond that though, it can be. My ability to unravel the mystery and act on it, suggests I still think God's love is variable, based on how good and right I am.
Executing God's will perfectly (as if that's measurable) means I'm safe and loved. Running out ahead means I'm willful and wrong, therefore less worthy of love.
But that can't be true because God already loves me (and you) utterly. Our behavior can't change that.
To put a fine point on it, if I picked up a heroin habit tomorrow, (probably won't) it's unlikely to be God's will, AND God would not love me less if I did.
If I shoplifted my way across town, (again, unlikely) God may cringe, but he can't withhold love from me in attempt to correct me. He might let me suffer the consquences of my actions, but stop loving me? No.
How I know for sure.
Jesus talked about a prodigal son; a young man who demanded his inheritance, embarassed his family, split town, got smashed, slept around and squandered every bit of the money. Yet, his father never stopped looking down the road for him, hoping one day he'd come back.
When he finally did, half-starving and dirty after living in a pig pen, his father RAN — ran I tell you — grabbed his son, kissed him, and put his robe and ring on him.
Was the son "outside his father's will" for years? Clearly. Did the father withhold love from him in an effort to correct, train or punish him? Not according to the text.
Rather, he smothered the boy with acceptance, celebrating that he came back to the place he was most loved.
Maybe I'm giving us permission to practice
Luxuriating in the love of God rather than divining his will all the time.
I like to think about it like this:
Imagine God as an excellent parent and you're just a little shaver — bright, curious, and full of energy. One sunny afternoon you and God are walking together to a playground full of equipment, holding hands.
God tells you to pick whatever you want to play on, but you pick something too big for you and you fall.
Does God run over and scold you for trying something too hard, something he wouldn't have chosen for you? Something that wasn't his pefect will?
Or does he pick you up and hold you until you stop crying?
That is the God I know and serve, but tend to forget. I find myself still performing, trying to earn something I already have.
Maybe you need to stop doing that too.
ps. Prove me wrong about the event in Colorado in August. Gather your girls and come on. All the information is here.
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