“Where the hell is this God of yours?”
“It’s funny that Lt. Dan said that, because right then, God showed up.”
Forrest Gump
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8ZH9ebAZouk
Bill Goans asked for volunteers to stand and speak about their experience with God. His request for comment centered around feeling or sensing God in the walls of the sanctuary during worship service. The cynic in me smirked that church is the least likely place for God to appear. As the saying goes, it’s not God that’s the problem; it’s his people. Above all others, Christians can really piss me off.
People obliged Goans’ request. They stood and talked – about love, about messages, about conviction and change. My own daughter talked about YoungLife. Our lives a collection of short stories, accompanied by plot and meaning.
I suspect that most of us could have told a story. It is probably why those of us who choose to worship in a traditional way, go to church. For me it is often like looking at those three dimensional posters. If I can make everything else be quiet and go out of focus, I occasionally catch a glimpse of the dolphins before the world crashes back in with its loud perspective.
I have felt God in the walls of Grace Church. When Miss Bonnie chants her alto, “Yes, Jesus,” tears fall down like rain. I don’t think Miss Bonnie calls out to anyone without an answer. That is just her style. God shows up.
When the women of Hannah’s Haven dance, God is there. Something glimmers in those chicks, a pilot light relit. And they are going to let it shine, let it shine, let it shine.
Last year, a troubled person shouted out during the service, correcting that Jesus should be referred to as Jesus Christ. He did this several times, shouting, correcting, shouting, correcting, until the room buzzed with the tension of discomfort. The pastor raised his hand, virtually placing it over all the congregation and prayed for all of us, prayed for our idiosyncrasies, our hang-ups, all of our barriers that might keep us from hearing what we need to hear. The airline of grace, seating all passengers.
I have wondered a wilderness in my life. Most of us have. For me, I turned on my faith. I sized it up and fought. I was Lt. Dan on a boat named Jenny. I battled God during this journey through my own personal wasteland and God fought back, not to harm me or shame me or teach me a lesson. He fought for me. Eventually, I dismounted my dragon and layed down my weapons and sat on the bench where the peace was. It’s not been all kittens and rainbows since then. But in the most simple and complicated of terms, I faced my toughest enemy, and it was myself.
The presence of God is both large and small. It is my mother’s flowers that have outlived her. It is the laughter of my dear friends. It is the quirky puff snore of my husband. It is the sister whisper of my daughters. I feel God’s light in my writing, when I am living in my design.
God is somewhere. God is everywhere. God is nowhere. Most of it has to do with how much of you shows up.