The past few years have been interesting for me. I was working in a job I really liked, with students I loved, and coworkers that challenged and shaped me. I was making good enough money, enjoyed my friendships, and felt like the work I was doing had deep meaning. It was a transformational season in that I had mentors that were shaping my faith, and I was discovering a new love for missional living. So many things about my life were full of meaning and love. But I was anxious…almost all the time. On some days, I would go home from work and be so physically exhausted from my anxiety that I would have to take a 2 hour nap before I would be in a good enough state of mind to do the next task or to spend time with people. My circumstances were good, but my inner-life was a mess, and at the time I couldn’t explain it.
Long story short, I learned from a mentor during an early part of that season that sometimes anxiety is circumstantial, and sometimes it’s existential. Whatever I was going experiencing during this time period was existential. There was a question gnawing at me somewhere in the recesses of my brain, and really in the recesses of my heart. I ignored it and let it do its work, because I was afraid that if I looked any closer I might not like the answer.
I kept myself busy with my meaningful job and my meaningful relationships, convincing myself that those things were enough, but the question continued to slowly chip away at me subconsciously, eventually taking a physical toll on my body. The question wasn’t going away. I came to learn that for me, it was a cornerstone question. My faith would be unstable until I really allowed myself to ask it with my whole self. This question had to be resolved in order for me to come to any semblance of peace and joy: Is God really near to me? Does he really love me?
It’s strange knowing the answer to a question like that, and at the same time not really knowing. I knew my bible well enough to answer with a quick yes, but for whatever reason, the answer to this question wasn’t going to take root in me simply by memorizing the correct answer. There are some things that you have to know on a heart level, and I think those kinds of truths usually marinate slowly and involve some disorientation.
Eventually this question forced me to take some time to pursue God on a really personal level. The good things were actually becoming an excuse to avoid the question. At my core, I think I was afraid, because when I really pursued an answer I’d have to live with it, whatever it was. What if God was displeased with me and that’s why he felt distant? What if I’m not meant to feel God’s nearness like other people do? If God is so good, why is he so quiet? Is God good? If I ask the one question, what other questions will present themselves?
It really all boiled down to one thing. I needed the things I knew intellectually about God to become real for me at my core. It wasn’t enough for me anymore to learn about God’s character but not experience it tangibly. Eventually the need to ask the question overwhelmingly outweighed all of the risk.
So by the time I decided to go on the World Race, I was a jumble of emotions. I had developed strong relationships in Amarillo that I was lamenting leaving, and I was giving up a stable and meaningful job for a season of uncertainty. But I was choosing that in order to give God an opportunity to show up, to speak to me in ways I could understand, and to teach me how to be joyful again. If you’ve read my other blogs, you might have sensed this theme running through a lot of them. It’s not enough to know about God. Knowing God relationally, experiencing him on a personal level, is where real transformative power comes from.
I’ve been reading a book lately about how creation is full of God. In it Richard Rohr quotes another author, Elizabeth Barrett Browning
“Earth’s crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God;
But only he who sees takes off his shoes…”
“Only he who sees.” We’re constantly surrounded by God, because we’re constantly surrounded by everything that he’s created out of himself. All of creation is made up of God’s love and beauty. At its core, God’s creation is good. He says it himself in the Genesis story. And we hear it from Paul in Romans:
“For since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that people are without excuse.”
-Romans 1:20
So much of our understanding of God depends on our decision to see and love his creation like he does. If we can learn to see God in the tiniest details, and if we learn to love what he created, it’s not a far leap to learn how loved we are by God, and to learn to love him in return.
In his book, Rohr also talks about a psychological study by Rick Hanson, detailing the way that our brain processes positive and negative thoughts. He says that “we must consciously hold on to a positive thought or feeling for a minimum of fifteen seconds before it leaves any imprint in the neurons.” Our brains have become accustomed to subconsciously latching onto negative thoughts and problem solving, but holding a positive thought or emotion takes intentionality. Our brains, at some level, have to be trained to see, obsess over, and be thankful for goodness and beauty.
I think some people do this more naturally than others, but I’m not one of them. I have to choose to see, and then I have to choose to keep seeing, and then I have to be mindful about holding what I’ve seen long enough for it to stick and become reality. As I’m looking for the beauty and goodness of God, I want to learn to look this intently at everything, including myself.
My time on the World Race has been pivotal for learning this kind of seeing. I don’t think this kind of sight transformation comes naturally in a setting where you’re keeping yourself busy, even if it’s busy with really incredible things. If you’re like me, and you’re wanting to learn to see God’s burning presence all around you, it may require a paradigm shift. It did for me. It’s ok to need to see God fleshed out. God knew we needed that and sent Jesus. We need a God that’s more than an idea, and if we’re brave enough to ask whatever question we might have, with our whole selves (not just our brains), I believe that we’ll begin to see the “fleshed out God” in every corner of creation.
If you’re wondering, it didn’t take long for God to chip away at my anxiety. The race has been a great training ground for my spiritual eyes. God is already nearer to us that we know, but generally we think and behave in ways that make it hard for us to see and experience him. God really is good. He really is near, and with an everyday refocusing, it’s possible to live a life with God that is full of peace and joy. I’m learning that little by little on this journey, but I think it’s a truth that can be learned and practiced anywhere. I hope you find that to be true wherever you are today. Keep asking your questions honestly, with your whole self, not just your mind. We have a father who is pleased to give good gifts to his children.
