Considering God



In every decision, I wonder if he would approve. I try to wrap my head around accepting God for who he is rather than questioning the things I don’t like or understand about him. I should not want to change God. In fact, I should want to be just like him. But I don’t like him sometimes, and telling myself that he is outside of my understanding doesn’t pull the wool over my eyes like it used to. Trying to unlearn that inclination feels like a dangerous game, like I’m throwing knives into the air and watching them shoot down towards my face. I could lose my eyes.

I’ve been warned against questioning too much because it killed the cat, and I’ve been encouraged towards resting in the unknown. Who vetoed the assumption that that approach to life would satisfy us all? Individuality makes no space for such a set-up.

Some of us are really trying to grasp who God is and there is little love shown towards that wondering.

I default to telling myself it’s my flesh causing me to question and that I should only embrace it so much. I’m no longer aware of who I can talk to about it because I don’t want to pull anyone down with me.

In an Uber today I didn’t put on my seatbelt. I briefly thought to myself that if I died in a crash for that reason in that moment, I would be okay with it. I feel trapped in God and I don’t know how to get out. The paradox lies in the fact that there’s still nothing better than him. But perhaps that’s a default conclusion for me too. I am lost.

An answer that has been proposed to me includes speaking to God about it and spending more time in the Word. But I don’t want to read it, it feels like my head is being pushed into the ground to ignore the chaos all around. It feels like avoidance. Though I am still scared of my head being chopped off if I stretch my neck out into the chaos for too long.

Another resolution is to do what I want and see where it gets me. Oh how dangerous that would be – I have a bright future.

I feel pain when I think of people who are like me, getting closer to God, while I am just slipping away. My hands are losing the ability to hold on to anything, they are apprehensive, they have lost all trust. The last prayer in my lungs is for it to make sense to me for the first time. Authentically. 

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