It's really sad. How hard it is, coming face to face with my lake of faith and inability to trust. Something good happens, scratch that, something great happens and I am still afraid. I wait for the other shoe to drop and something much worse than what I was cured of to afflict me.
Neurotically, I lay awake at night and worry about the good thing I have been blessed with to be taken away. Unable to trust in the love of God, or anything else for that matter, my demeanor changes. The anxiety that often plagues me is heightened exponentially. A case of the Norwalk virus and the resulting diminished efficacy of the medication I take to treat my anxiety doesn't help.
And then I come face to face with this.
What a fucking cliche this has become. We have reduced the cross to a bobble we wear around our neck and a hunk of wood we kneel in front of but never really submit to. Maybe we need to go on a five year cross fast where its image is removed from every church and we are no longer permitted to wear it around our neck. Maybe then we would once again begin to discover the horrible reality of it all.
Despite the cliche I find comfort. Somehow, despite my halting faith and inability to trust I find a hand on my shoulder and I know that it is OK. I am understood. I don't know why, I certainly don't deserve it, but I am understood. My faith is still small, but I guess whatever is there is enough.
I hear you loud and clear Bro!
That is the Father Heart of God, he understands us. As children, we are full of fears and misconceptions. His hand gently rests on our shoulders, calming and steadying us.
I also understand the frustration with the heaped upk piles of baggage we carry from years of religion.. your not alone mate!
Posted by: urbanmonk | January 24, 2007 at 09:31 PM