I was hoping that one day I’d see an end of this thing. My struggle toward freedom from the thing I called “church.” I fumed, eventually moved away, fumed some more, wrote the letter–my stab at resolution, fumed a bit more, forgave, fumed, changed careers, and learned to take things one day at a time. Such a strange experience.
At first I struggled with an overwhelming sense of loss. The loss of a dream, of my place in life, that sense of belonging, of identity. Now that those things are less tangible I have to accept life as it is, one day at a time. I can’t have the past because it’s gone, I can’t have the future because it’s not here yet–all I have is this present.
It took me a while to discover that anger wasn’t punishing anyone but me and the people that I loved the most. Once steam stopped shooting out of my ears I discovered that I had a ton to live for. My dear wife, three amazing kids, hobbies, and faith. Yes, faith. Faith has become the rock. The thing that holds this rickety, crumbly, fractured day-to-day thing together. And by faith I don’t mean any effort to please or live by rules. By faith I mean he’s there. He’s really there. It’s not devotional time, worship, or the “go to church” thing. It’s a presence and a knowledge that I’m loved. That we’re okay in Father through Christ, by the power of his Spirit. It’s simpler than that thing I used to do.
I like that I can trust Father in Christ. I like that he’s all I’ve got. It’s reassuring to know that I can move forward in what I know of God and myself without second guessing the whole process as much. He offers the freedom to move forward one moment at a time in his unstoppable love. I never knew his love was unstoppable. I can’t stop it. I cannot, by choice or by self-effort, hinder his love. No circumstance is an indication of his love. No action can prevent his love.
And that is a Father I can serve. That is a God who is big enough for it all. He’s not small, petty, or the selfish kind of jealous. He’s the kind of person I’d like to know, follow, honor, and love. He invites us into a glorious, simple experience of himself.
Hey Jeff, I really like this, just because I relate to the “he’s really there” part. I have been through that, too, and it’s amazing, and free.
Thanks Erin. That’s the part that makes the whole journey worth it. I remember trying to make sense out of all the details like why I was right. Eventually I think I ran out of the energy to do anything but accept he’s there. And that is certainly enough.