The Godless Void of Safe

I felt like reading today. I had seen "Blue Like Jazz" by Donald Miller on the Paste best books of the decade list, which surprised me because I had heard of dozens of people who had read it. I thought I would be able to siphon some wisdom from it, so I borrowed it from Drew McConnell. In the crowded, bustling cafeteria, I read about Don's view of God when he was younger, how God was a wealthy man with a cheer leading daughter and a football playing son, a god who was affluent and respected like a proper Englishman. This got me thinking as I left the Bean--who/what do I think God is?

I think boys with high Nike socks, straight-billed baseball caps and lanyards swaying out of their pockets claim to know God, even when they joke with a neanderthalic cadence about jacking off or girls or sports or a number of other meaningless topics. But I don't think they know God.

I think middle aged mothers with short hair that just passes their jaw bone, pants reaching slightly above their waist, athletic shoes and cross jewelry claim to know God, even when they idolize their children and their husbands and live protected lives in protected homes, eschewing the hurting world because they'd rather read a Francine Rivers novel. But I don't think they know God.

As I walked through the courtyard composed of juxtaposed concrete and grass, I tried to think of what I thought of God, and if I even thought He exists. I took a seat on a swinging bench that faced another bench just like it and I asked myself if I believed God was sitting in the bench opposite me. I tried to make myself picture the invisible God, I tried to force myself to believe that He was there, but I couldn't. I didn't believe God was there, despite what I had heard all my life, despite his omnipresence, a phrase used by people that, I think, don't actually believe it. I didn't think God was there.

Now, I found that I didn't believe that God DIDN'T exist. I do believe that. I believe God is with people when they're hurting, when disaster strikes, when there is pain. I concluded that I don't believe God exists in the dull, plain, boring lives, the lives that aren't painful or sacrificing or unjust. Now I do believe there is pain in suburban, cultivated life, I just don't think it's real pain. Oh no, my Mercedes Benz just got rear ended and I don't have enough money to pay for the repairs because I just bought Dallas Cowboys season tickets. That's not pain, at least not in my eyes.

I discovered that I believe God only exists in places where there is pain. But I just thought about that and remembered festivals and parties in the Bible where people were rejoicing because God delivered them, like the Israelites. I believe God is there too. I guess I don't believe God is here because I don't need Him. I don't. I can survive, going to school, hanging out with friends, watching movies, and never talk to Him, never read the Bible, never do anything religious. Millions of people have lived this way, I have lived this way. It is possible to survive without God. Now, before all you protective Christians rise up and yell that without God, the universe wouldn't be spinning and everything would dissolve into chaos and whatever, I know. I have this contradiction going on in my brain where I both realize that God maintains the universe and keeps life existing; but on the other hand, I feel as if He is strangely removed from the people who don't want anything to do with Him because their lives are fine without Him. And without Him, I mean people actively participating in religious activities (reading the Bible, praying, etc). Why pray to God when everything is peachy keen already? Why act like you need God when you really don't see a need for Him?

This is where I am, living a life that is protected enough that I don't need God. I don't need deliverance from poverty or hunger or pain or terror. I know that I can feed myself for the next month if I had to. I can even go and see a movie that I know nothing about save that critics say it is next year's Best Picture winner, and not worry about having enough money for necessities. I am safe. That's the problem. I have no need for God.

I was just blindsided by the idea that fasting is an immediate way to force yourself to realize that you need God. You need His help because otherwise you're going to vomit because you're so hungry. But is that how it's supposed to be? We live lives that don't need God, so we have to fast in order to conjure up a reason to need Him? That seems fake to me.

So God, that's where I am. I'm here, in a place where I don't think you exist. I ask that you put me in a position where I need you every day, that you show me how to be okay with this type of life, that you tell me what is right, or anything else. Because I haven't heard from you in a while, and I feel like you could tell me something important.