Expectations

I ran a marathon in 2000. Every time I tell the story I feel like I have to say that it was a spiritual experience because Jesus helped me do it. And it’s true, I could not have done that on my own. That marathon is my one concrete proof from all my years in Christianity that Jesus is real. There’s no way in hell I talked myself through all those training runs and that 26.2 miles. During every run I asked him to carry my feet down the path, to protect my knees and to help me not to quit. He did, and I finished at exactly my goal time.

I know that God is real. I haven’t just decided to believe it, I know it. I can’t get away from it--I’ve actually tried, and found that the knowledge is too much a part of who I am to divorce myself from it. What I don’t know anymore, what I’m stuck on, now that I’ve re-accepted that God is real, is how do I think about Him? I don’t know what he’s like, I don’t know what to believe about him and I don’t know where I stand with Him.

I know what the Bible says he’s like—many times I’ve studied and memorized the attributes of God. I was in church for 30 years listening to people talk about Him, singing about Him, talking about Him, talking to Him, and listening to other people talk to Him. But since my break with Christianity, for me, none of that rings true anymore, I can’t trust it. I’m starting from scratch.

I’m sure it’s the fault of my own twisted view of Him, but, because He, the church and Christianity were all closely related in my mind, it FEELS like all He stood for and all I learned about Him was a big fat lie, that I was sold something. “God” as he was portrayed, His church, His people, His way of life, His Christianity, His teaching, His Bible studies, His hymns and songs, and interpretations of His “word”—were not all they proclaimed. The message, as I understood it, turned out to be not entirely true. My framework of American Christianity and all its trappings didn’t fulfill the promises I believed it would. I was so disappointed, it pretty much crushed me. I felt like I’d given myself over to some one or some organization that didn’t really know me, care for me, didn’t tell me the whole story and then manipulated me into believing it all. I’m mad at myself for doing it and I’m mad at Him for letting me.

So in my disillusionment I let my Christianity fall away and now I’ve come through to a new kind of life. There is no manual, and there are no rules--I can do whatever I want I guess. It’s freedom. It’s scary and it’s difficult, but I love it and I’d so rather have it than be deluded. But I’m finding that I need some answers about how to live. If God is real, what does he think about me? What is God really like? What can I, no-kidding, expect from God?

I asked a few Christian friends what they expect from their relationship with God. A couple people thought the question was selfish, or misguided, as if we shouldn’t ask God this question. Why not? This God of the Bible with all its promises, shouldn’t we be able to ask what we can expect from him? Are Christians pretending to believe in him as though they didn’t have any self-interest? I think it’s a fair question, and I’m asking it because I feel like I don’t have any choice in the matter. I’m not deciding God is real, I know, that for me, he is. So then what?

After Christianity I felt like I’ve was standing outside of some exclusive Vegas nightclub where people "supposedly" had access to God. I was hanging around the door to see if I wanted to get in, but kind of knowing there wasn't really access to God in there. I didn’t know what it took to get inside, but there was no way I was waiting in that incredibly long Christian line again. It’s like I thought I might have the cash, the looks, or the faith required for the bouncer to let me in.

Well, everyone has their own path to find God, and mine does not include getting into that club. I can see, and feel, that the club is not for me, and I’m so glad because I don’t want to go in that club! It’s not my scene really, I belong out on a trail somewhere in hiking boots, not in heels and a cocktail dress. I don’t get to easily dance the night away like all those Christians, I have to hike up rocky, rugged trails. I’m not complaining though, because anyone who really knows me knows that’s where I’d rather be. The air is fresher, the view is incredible, and somehow, even though I can’t see him, God is just kind of there, everywhere. I don’t have to wait in any line and there's no fancy lights or music creating illusion and claiming false promises.

I think I’m supposed to just keep moving on that trail, my own trail, through this life, and make my own way as best I can. I don’t get any shortcuts. I don’t get to know what God is like from other people, nor even from my former Bible knowledge of him. So now it’s just me, trying to get through life—No, NOT just trying to get through life—trying to really live--to work and live and deal and fight to enjoy this journey. It’s just me trying to create and share and be and find MY way, MY place and MY voice.

I think I can expect him to just help me do that--keep going, keep moving, even if it’s not for some big-deal thing—just my ordinary life, but really LIVING it as just me. This feels right, and is so new and interesting, I don’t want to miss any of it by escaping life as I sometimes used to. It’s like I’m getting such a bang off the view and the fresh air I just want to keep going, keep climbing and discovering what is around the next bend. I feel like I’m on to something good and true. For me, it has a lot to do with writing—that’s the conduit, the mechanism, not just for coping with life, but also for gaining understanding and enlightenment. What if all I ever produce is just a result of that life? That’s enough for me.

So I do get to know what I can expect—Finally, an answer to my question! I don’t expect him to live up to some list of attributes. I don’t expect to feel loved, I don’t even expect Him to always be there for me. I think I can expect to have Him carry my feet up the path, protect my knees and help me not to quit while I continue to move forward. And, that’s the one thing I happen to know He’ll do.