Talking to God

I've often thought that just as no two people are the same, we all have a unique relationship with God. Despite knowing better, I find I continue to judge myself as 'better than' or 'worse than' another person and in no area is this more painful than when I imagine or hear how others are talking to God and look at how that is for me.

Because what I want, what I've always wanted, is what Jesus described as his relationship with God in the first century when he was little, a daddy who was always there, who he shared everyday moments with as he went through his play and his work.

What I have, and what I often forget to be grateful for, is a sure knowledge that God not only exists but She provides me with myriad little treats. An unbeliever might put all these down to chance or randomness but for me the sight of a butterfly or a woolly cloud, the smell of a rose, the silver evening light on the still ocean, the fantastic photography in the opening minutes of a murder mystery I watched the other night... I could go on and on. These all tell me of God's desire to give me joy.

But I hanker for more. I not only want evidence of God in my life, I want to know God in the way that one can only know another through conversation and exchange of feelings. And in the last couple of weeks, while my previous dark cloud of almost-despair seems to have lifted, I have missed feeling God close to me. Brooke Fraser describes it exactly for me in her song 'Faithful'

There's distance in the air and I cannot make it leave
I wave my arms round about me and blow with all my might
I cannot sense you close, though I know you're always here
But the comfort of you near is what I long for

And I remember that the only sure way of 'getting back on track' to God is to pray.

Sounds easy? Not so at all I find. Many months ago I learned 'The Prayer' by heart and have never regretted it because it enables me to choose a relevant phrase from it at whim, no matter what I happen to be doing. But if I start at the beginning I get bogged down very quickly. I have this addiction to thinking which is so deep and longstanding that before I know it I'm off on a tangent, away from God.

And I blame myself for not sticking to my resolve. Ho hum. I forget that I'm not talking to God because deep down I don't want to talk to God. Wow, that's interesting. Here's me, hanging out to connect to the One who loves me more than anyone else ever could, more than I can imagine, and I don't want to talk to Him?

And I realise that no I don't, I'm so discouraged about all my attempts at connection feeling like they're just bouncing off bullet-proof glass, I'm frustrated and angry at God, and just underneath that I feel so hopeless, that it's just all too hard, I'm alone and will never find my way in.

Then in my head I hear 'just say all that to God, less talking about how it is, just talk to God.

OK. “God, I'm very grateful for the good things you send my way but I'm also really frustrated and despondent about how you keep me at arm's reach. I want you, I want to be with you much more than I want your presents.” (And the childhood image rises of my dad holding us at arm's length in jest, his palm on our foreheads, and inviting us to grab him or punch him or in some way connect to his body, but of course our arms and legs were too short....)

And the moment I talk to God, really talk about how I feel, not just words, it all changes within me. I'm back to feeling again and even if it's not exactly joy, it's so much better than walking around feeling disconnected.

Which takes me to the chorus of Brooke Fraser's song...

When I can't feel you, I have learned to reach out just the same
When I can't hear you, I know you still hear every word I pray
And I want you more than I want to live another day
And as I wait for you maybe I'm made more faithful.