Slussy, You Got Some 'Splainin' to Do

I am sorry I haven't asked more of you to pray for me. I just didn't know how. In the balance of all that is hard and challenging and heart-breaking in each of our lives, it seems like I have the charmed existence here in Boise. I can make all my own decisions, in my own adorable house, with a job that makes an effort to make a difference in broken places and people.

But for several weeks recently I have vacillated between anger, hopelessness, and, if I am honest, depression that makes me feel as flat as paper.

Paper has a hard time remembering to breathe.

Philip Yancey says that trying to determine what is "worthy" to be prayed about is one of the most arrogant things you can do. God says to bring it all.

Mostly, though, it's just been too hard to explain. Even as I type that, I realize I probably could have at least telegrammed a while ago, "SOS STOP KATHIE SAD STOP TOO HARD EXPLAIN STOP PLEASE PRAY STOP"

Then some other short notes.

Things are falling off my plate. I don't know how to do my job well right now. I don't know what to do with this lawn I bought, or the fence, or the deck. I am incapable of making decisions. I can't buy presents for people the way I want to 'cause I bought a house and a lawn that baffles me. I don't know what to do about missing people so much--shouldn't that have slaked by now? I have run out of nice. I am clearly working in my strength if I have run out of nice, so I should be working in Christ's strength, and I evidently suck at that, so when is He showing up here because I have a meeting/task/person/whatever that I can't face barreling toward me, and I can't go in with a big red-eyed, tear-streaked, set-jaw, furrowed-brow, squinted-eyes, hanging-cheeks face. Can I?

Well, I did, actually. I went through days of getting the tears and snarling anger under control, but, as my nice boss put it, "You clearly don't have the joy of spring in you." He was one of many, many wondering what was wrong with me.

And it was too hard to 'splain.

Okay, let me 'splain. No, there is too much. Let me sum up.

I read The Shack. I loved the portrayal of relationship and conversations and closeness of the Trinity and Mack. I want desperately to have an intimacy with the Father, Son and Spirit that meets all the holes and inadequacies in my life, and soothes over the mistakes and the cruelties, and celebrates with me the beauty and love that also exist in this world. I was deeply moved by the story, and felt this sudden possibility of a new worldview that would be different, better, more intimate. I couldn't find any bad theology in the story, but then I was suddenly wary of taking my imagination too far. There are people I know who have loved William P. Young's presentation of God, and others I know who would flip.

So I start to investigate the idea of, "How far can we actually go in envisioning God in ways less formal than a big throne, brilliant light, and angels abounding?"

Because, a little like Liann's mention of "future tripping" over on her blog, I couldn't just dive into enjoying this new freedom of coffee and pie and gardens and a lake with God. I needed to make sure it was okay, that it was appropriate, that it was right to be able to do that. Why? Because, what would I say when someone invariably asked me down the road what I had smoked when I decided it was okay to picture myself lying on my back next to Jesus on a dock, looking up at stars, and having chats about my day with him and not conversations of great doctrinal import?

So the study began to determine how close I could actually picture myself being to God, and in what context. Suddenly, even phrases people have said to me in the past, like "Just picture yourself crawling up into Jesus' lap and resting your head against him like a child, and letting him give you perfect peace," (sounds sweet, don't it?) seemed like big no-nos if I could not find Scriptural support for it. And nowhere does the Bible tell me to climb into Jesus' lap.

That led into questioning to the n^th degree every verse, chapter and book I read, and that led, I kid you not, into panic that I would not read it right, understand it right, know the real thing I was supposed to know--that I would not get it right. What if I had the wrong Bible, the wrong interpretation, the wrong understanding of context, the wrong historical perspective, the wrong theology about it, the wrong doctrine being applied...the list goes on and on.

And what if I let myself be tricked into some cozy, warm, extremely personal and intimate view of God caring about me, and found out I was making something up in my head that was a lie? I feel it even now...my jaw sets with an underbite and my lips tighten and my eyes narrow...I will NOT be tricked, I say.

Which, in the short run, leaves me one of two places: frozen or cynical. So I have been riding the waves and edges of both lately, in their extremes.

There was a turn-around this week. A nice one. But I am tired now. Let me know if you want the rest of this diatribe. What I really want to do is buy everyone I love a new "Life is Good" shirt. But I am broke--no more fun, surprise presents from the Sluss. So you get this instead, if you want it.