What More Do We Need?
A pastor friend of mine, who I have known since high school, came to see me one afternoon with a heaviness of heart. We were not long into our conversation when he asked me if God was as remote in my life as God was in his. He felt as though God had deserted him, left him high and dry, and yet he felt the responsibility to care for the people in his congregation and to steer them into a more meaningful relationship with God. How could he do that when God felt so far away?
A man who had spent more than thirty years leading churches, ministering to people, caring for their needs, and being present with them during good and bad times, felt in his own life that God had turned away. I assured him that I have often felt the same way. Haven’t we all?
Thankfully, I find soulmates in the Bible, men and women of faith, who also felt that God, on occasion, was absent without leave. The psalmists certainly experienced God’s absence, as did Jeremiah, and, of course, the poster-child for feeling spiritually alone, Job. On the cross Jesus experienced God’s abandonment, and later the disciples lost hope because divine presence was crucified on a cross. It appears that in the life of faith we don’t always walk among the clouds.
We may wonder why we experience such unpredictable highs and lows in our walk with God. Yes, there are mountain top experiences where God’s presence seems near and real but then suddenly, without warning, we can find ourselves in a dark valley of despair, where it feels that God doesn’t even know our name.
Maybe we want something from God that is not in divine nature to give or not in our nature to receive. Maybe too much of God would be like looking directly into the sun, thus God has to work around the edges, so to speak, to keep from blinding us with his presence. Even the heavenly seraphim, divine beings of fire, had to wrap their wings around their eyes to shield them from God’s brilliance (Isa. 6).
It is also possible that God intentionally distances divine presence from us the way a parent stands back when her child begins to take his first steps. For the child to transition from crawling to walking requires the parent to let go and move away in order for the aspiring toddler to stand erect and walk on his own. Naturally, there is the risk the child might fall, but that is part of the growth process, without which the child would never learn to walk by himself. A mature faith is one that has fallen on more than one occasion.
Sometimes we are guilty of treating our relationship with God too casually, as if God were our pal or good buddy. Throughout the biblical story an encounter with God was usually associated with profound reverence, apprehension, and distance. Israel did not even seek a direct experience with God, knowing the dangers of drawing too close to the Holy (Exod. 20:19).
By the time of Jesus an encounter with God often resulted in loss of sight or the inability to speak. Jesus himself was an enigmatic figure. The disciples who followed him day after day were never quite sure what to make of him. Yes, they experienced his love, compassion, and kindness, but there was always an implied distance between them. There was never an easy familiarity with Jesus. They never got to know him the way one gets to know a best friend.
It could be that God’s elusive nature is a means for us to come of age as human beings, to grow up, to develop as responsible agents in the world in order to fulfill our purpose as reflections of God’s image. God has given us his presence through Scripture, through the person of Jesus, and through the Holy Spirit. We see his mighty works in creation—a beautiful but highly fragile planet, the stars and the distant galaxies in the universe. Everywhere around us, we see evidence of his handiwork. Hasn’t God given us everything we need?
Maybe God is watching to see if the crown of his creation, human beings made magnificently in his image, can walk on their own two feet. Will we tend to the earth and care for it, as we have been commanded? Will we watch over each other, the weak, the infirmed, and those who have not yet learned to walk? Will we selflessly reach out to people in the grip of despair so that we can share God’s presence? What about my friend who feels emptiness, loneliness, and abandonment? Will we be God’s presence for him?
There is nothing more we really need . . . except, well, except maybe the willingness to be a little more attentive to God’s work, and a little bit less to our own.
