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Sometimes, I can't help but wonder how much my theology has crippled my understanding of God.
It is easy for me to convince myself that my God is too busy for me, especially when I pay attention to all the ways I don't deserve Him. The truth is that He is involved in every happening in my life. He is there. But I see him too logically - I can't see how a God big enough to cup the universe in his hands cares enough about me to craft the moments of my life into a specific story. But I couldn't be more wrong.
My God is a poet.
My God is an artist.
My God has the time.
Still, this break down in belief can set everything off balance.
I get to believing that I owe God something in return for his son's death. His son underwent the worst human suffering in existence because of me, and I have the audacity to believe in His spare time He planned out the details of my life. Well, I am called to believe that.
But most times I believe I owe Him my happiness.
A number of years ago, I drove to Birmingham to attend a staff reunion for a camp I worked at the previous summer. Late one night, one of the girls I was good friends with asked me if I was happy. I replied, "I'm not convinced I am supposed to be." She laughed and said that was a total "Anna" response and the conversation moved on. But I still haven't forgotten it.
I honestly do not remember a time that I did not fight against my desire for happiness as if it was a weakness or a disease. Happiness seems needless and naive as I read scripture about persecution, suffering, and the inevitable hatred of those dedicated to the cause of Christianity. During the darkest times of my life I have known deep joy that is not of this world. But it is still nearly impossible for me to grasp the authenticity of joy apart from suffering, as if joy cannot exist without its opposite - despair. So... what happens when everything goes right? When I get the job I've have been praying for or I find out that I'm healthy? I feel guilty. Guilty for a life of comfort that my Lord never experienced on this earth. Guilty because I don't deserve it.
What I miss here is that the beauty and depth of Christianity lies in the distinctive ability of believers to feel joy and genuine happiness during times of suffering, persecution, and despair. That is why there is an emphasis on joy in suffering, not because it is the only authentic source of joy. You know, maybe joy can't exist without despair. But it does not have to be my despair. I don't have to earn my right to happiness. He died so I could have it for free. It breaks my heart...but it sets me free.
I rely so much on the beauty and joy in suffering that I forget the beauty and simplicity of blessings. I allow my theology to confuse my perception of the Lord's desires for me, and I get to thinking that when things are easy, when it isn't a battle to believe and to hope, the Lord has given up on me. I start to believe he only teaches me through suffering and during times of rest He has abandoned me.
We have a God who has called us on mission for him. But he has not called us into suffering to pay back the death of his son. He has called us there to experience the joy of his son's victory. And sometimes, he calls us into times of great joy and celebration for no reason other than that he loves us.
There is no shame in peace. There is no shame in claiming the blessings my Savior died to give me. The greater shame lies in denying them.
My God is a poet.
