Searching for God
Slow down, you move to fast, we’ve got to make the morning last---- Frequently, before all of the slowdown, I would wake up with these lyrics in my head. I think it was my subconscious mind’s attempt at letting my conscious mind know I was about to create a disaster of a day if I kept my foot on the accelerator.
Now we’re living in a halt. Orders to stay-at-home. Physically we’ve slowed down. Not mentally or emotionally. So many unknowns are attached to our present lives. Will we get sick? Will we lose loved ones and friends? Are we prepared? Do we have enough food? Disinfectant? Money? Patience and space to provide stability and comfort to our kids?
We’re distanced from loved ones, living in the tension of finding ways to make the most if it while fearful of the chance that we might not see our parents and other older loved ones for a long time—and that’s if all goes well.
We watch the news. And wait. Through social media we keep up with people, opinions, fact and fiction.
We try to get our work done, which at times just doesn’t seem very important; but it’s a nice distraction and we are among the fortunate that still have work and a paycheck.
We take walks. Naps. And we wonder.
We wonder why. We wonder how we got here. We wonder when this will end and what might happen between now and then.
Fear and uncertainty rise up. We either stuff it with distraction, or feed it with more news and updates.
Where is God? Where are the anchors?
In my own process I am finding the only pathway to God in all of this is to sit with the heaviness and grief, cry through the overwhelm, and journal every thought, doubt, and fear.
We find this formula in David’s poetry in Psalms. If we follow his pathway in the specific Psalms where he’s questioning everything, accusing God of abandoning him, feeling (& naming) every feeling imaginable, begging God to kill his enemies, and eventually getting to the other side of it all as he remembers who God has already been to him in so many times past. There he finds comfort and regains composure, like a little baby whose fallen asleep in his mother’s arms. We too can find our anchors of peace in this process. Yes, the only way out is through. (A few Psalms that show this are 28, 22, and 13.)
Certain Psalms give us the courage and permission to wrestle with our emotions. Feeling them fully in safe spaces. Letting them go and allowing a holy transaction to take place. If you dive into the psalms you’ll see that David’s emotional shifts occur without shifts in circumstances.
Here’s the thing. We won’t find our peace tracking virus updates. We won’t find it watching the DOW. We won’t find it in complaining about the politicians, hoping they’ll save us, and wishing things were different. We find our peace when we get to the end of ourselves (and as a wise mentor tells me, the place where we rest in our belovedness).
If this virus has revealed anything, it’s shown us our unhealthy attachments to false comforts. It’s distilled us down to our most basic priorities- our health and our loved ones.
Your path to peace will be similar to the labor experience in that nobody can get you to the outcome but you. Trusted friends, writers, music, nature, finding your breath, and solitude can be midwives who guide you in your process to anchoring into the peace that goes beyond our understanding; but it’s up to you bear down, cooperate with the waves of the contractions, and PUSH. As you do, you will experience a peace you can’t explain, an inner strength to carry you through this moment.
Your searching and looking around and online for the deep sustaining peace you need will not bring comfort. Follow the lead of David, sit with God, unfiltered in all of your confusion and angst and questions. Let go. Let God. Empty yourself of all that’s weighing you down. My prayer for you is that as you surrender to this ancient process, you will find renewed strength and hope from the God of all comfort.
Dive Deeper…
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