Quite depressing being God, no? No one ever remembers you
until their lives are in shambles. Your phone rings only when there is sad news
or a need to be solved. Each call is about a complaint. No one calls or visits to
find out how you are doing. They always ask of one thing or the other and it is
never your well-being. If they ever wished for your well-being, it would be as
a robber does; only so you have some more for them take from. I know what that
feels like.
Now I doubt even God knows how I feel; after all he shouldn’t
have any needs of His own. He is all sufficient isn’t He? Even if he had any
troubles, they are not such that he would need to share them with anyone. Still
even He craves our attention. He wants to share with us despite our limited
capability, sadly we never give him a chance.
Hold on a sec!! This is not a rant about God, I am not about
to plead His case on his behalf. I’ve got enough worries of my own for which no
one seems ready to help. I really do not want to bother about His, at least not
now. That is how we all are most of the time, in truth, we only really truly
remember him when all else has failed us. He is that last resort. He knows this
too hence he uses affliction, often times, to draw our attention to Him to
remind us that he still exists. Even if all we remember to do is blame Him for
the mishap, at least we still do remember Him at such times and our unarguable
dependence on His existence is brought to the fore.
I am trying so hard to make this about me and not about God
but that is terribly difficult now. I can’t help it. I am seated in church and
the worship session is on, so I can’t help but talk about Him even in my own
pain. I cannot complain about the pain because that is what has brought me
running to Him today. I am not justified to complain...
No job, family is not the way I had envisioned it would be, ‘friends’
are very few and far between, courtship is wobbly, money is thin, the church
has failed me and life just seems less interesting than I thought it would be
and a lot more tasking than I had envisaged. I have run to the only thing that
sounds real and sure., the only existence which still ‘appears’ to be standing
firm. I am ashamed to acknowledge this but, that is the truth.
Maybe at other times I had been ‘drawn near’ by my love for
Him and had nothing else to distract me
from Him but it is obvious to me at this time that I have come running now in
search of Him to be a balm to soothe the pain and hurt. In need of a touch from
the one whose hands were seemingly made especially for touching and mending the
pained, bruised, wounded and broken. Sounds like a psychopathic being eh? But
He does seem to prefer the broken jars. Those are the kind that willingly let
Him remodel them anyways and that is what I have become. My pride won’t let me
admit that I am broken, cracked seats better with me.
Indeed ‘life’ appears to be going down south in too many
ways. Big guy up there, I hope you
can hear my heart or read my scribbles, good thing you said your ears are not
dull neither are your eyes dim.
Now they did it!!! They are singing “you are the pillar that
holds my life”. This is my problem with most Christian groups, we are often quick
and able to encourage ourselves. We take away the sting of the injury for a
while without necessarily dealing with the root cause. You tell me that He is
the pillar holding me up and keeping things together and I want to jump to my
feet already and join in the worship session. Already forgotten all about why I
had been pensive all afternoon. I suddenly feel secure and assured of the
brightness and greatness to come but let us face it; I am still going to drive
out of here in my old jalopee Chrysler,
with the leaky roof and the orange reserve light which shines brighter than my
headlamps beamed at me-the sad reminder that in the physical, nothing has changed.
I need to fight off that temporary euphoria which wears off once the worship
session is done and the endorphins run their course. Drat!! Now my tears are
dry in this emotional burst of happy without the joy to it. I think I can
manage a smile but my heart is still bleeding. Internal haemorrhaging is the
more deadly kind, so I am told. How then can I say the church has helped me,
symptom treating folk; the church too has failed me.
“Here I am to worship. Here I am to bow down. Here I am to
say that you’re my God....”
They have turned it up a notch with the next song. The
organist however isn’t enjoying this. You would think he hated the song or playing
the organ all together, judging by the look on his face. If only he knew, knew
my troubles, my thoughts and worries, if only he knew my heart at this moment.
He wouldn’t have any difficulty playing that ‘thing’ and worshiping like he
should. I don’t blame him anyway, I know him quite well and I can say that I
was there a few months ago. Not a care in the world, nothing could put a
wrinkle across my forehead and praising God seemed like something I did as a
hobby, simply because I wanted to, not because I needed to and surely not
because I felt I couldn’t help it. It came easy, without any effort and without
a struggle of any sort. I always wore the so called garment of praise but now I
wear a different one, one which I need to take off FIRST each time I am to
worship God. These days though that garment of pain and sadness has become cast
on me and taking it off has become increasingly difficult that I think I now
need it broken off me, if I would ever get rid of it. Now you see why I am
here. I don’t want to take this off like an overall I would put on again, I
need it broken, and sadly that would mean breaking me as well or at least
cracking me. Maybe not all of me but certainly something would have to give.
I guess I always needed that breaking and subsequent
remodeling but I looked too raw and fragile for even a heartless ‘god’ to
break me so He left me. Now though, with the wrinkles and scars, that decision
should be much easier to make. It takes about six months to build a Rolls
Royce, I hear. The prospective owner waits anxiously while the car is carefully
handcrafted to his specifications. Like that owner, I am in waiting now,
waiting for the newly sculpted jar which is me to be finished and put out in
view for all to see and appreciate.
The acronym for my life up until now would have been
‘seamless’ but after this I think I would change that to ‘Made by God’.
#LearningPatience#LearningDependenceonGod#LearningAbout God#learningGod#
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