I'll Take Sappy

Living in the Spirit is a catchy cliché phrase I’d rather not use. It has connotations of a stereotype I’d rather not be associated with. But I can’t think of how else to refer to it other than more common Christian church words; the ones that only Christians use, as if it was secret code or something. “Christianese,” I call it. A language set apart that requires club membership. But I would like to call it something, just not something that has negative connotations or that reeks of elitism; something that any person can hear and be intrigued. They could hear the word and be curious and ask questions and be fascinated and discover that they too could have an experience similar yet unique.

And that’s it really. I am having a unique experience of living day to day and moment to moment with an awareness and acknowledgement of God being with me and me with Him. Like a marriage or a brotherhood or a friendship or a companionship. It’s a Father and son strolling down the path. The walk is easy and hard, up and down and sometimes level. Periodically there are paths to choose from and hazards to avoid. It gets dark and then morning comes again. I get separated and call out to be found. Feeling lost is awful. I plow ahead and lose my way. I get weary and sit to rest. He sits with me. Often, He goes on and beckons me to press ahead.

So that’s it really; a walk with my Lord in the normal course of living. It isn’t strange or ethereal. I don’t have special mediations and chants. It doesn’t get weird. I live. I include Him in everything I do. And he knows He’s welcome when I forget to invite Him. I’m a middle aged man physically, but spiritually an adolescent who is learning to be like his Father. And He is a great Father.

Certainly, I’ve doubted Him and questioned His motives and actions. I’ve accused Him of many things. But He has stayed true to who He is. He loves. And for me to know what this meant required inquiry. What does love mean? Warm fuzzies? Sappy mush-gush? I needed to know who He is. And actually, this would be insufficient. For me, I needed to have an experience with Him. It had to be real or I didn’t want a thing to do with this person, this religion. The wrestling of ideals and realities and faith seem to be necessary for acceptance for me. I’m not easily swayed. I’m a skeptic through and through. Trust doesn’t come easy for matters of my heart and soul. So time has been my friend. God’s patience is long; necessarily so, because I have been one stubbornly fearful person digging in my heels to avoid the trappings of behavior modification, the chains of religion. But the hammer never fell, the chains have never returned. Instead the trust has grown. With that comfort has come. I’ve began to be at peace with Him and who I am.

Walking with Him on this life path is like a great conversation; like one of those you’ve had with a person who eventually became your closest friend. Discovery and intrigue and exposure to thoughts never dreamed of that spurred ideas and amazement beyond what anyone could think on their own. This other person changes you, makes you a better you. You feel alive and purposeful. Together you dream big. Alone you can only see what’s in front of you. Now remember that this other person is God. Let that sink in. And then think of the possibilities.

So that’s where I’m at. I accept Him for who He is. I know my frailties and know that He knows them too and isn’t offended. He loves me the way I am and will love me enough to change me through trust in His love for me. He’s not mean or grumpy. He doesn’t have ulterior motives. He is true to His word. He is trustable. These things are true. I get to stretch myself to believe them. That’s faith. Is this too simple? Am I a simpleton? Do I live in “La-la Land” and need psychiatry? There may be a case for it, but I am certain that this way of living beats logical reasonable living any day. I’m never alone. I am loved and get to experience it. I get amazing advice. I’m losing my fears. I have purpose beyond the hum-drum. I love better. And I’m at peace.

I don’t want to live any other way.

Thank you, God, for being so real. Thank you for finding me. I’ve been lost in religion, in self indulgence, in self preservation, in fear…horribly lost and broken for so many years. I have been found and brought home with You. You’ve tolerated my anger and spats and tantrums and horrid tongue lashings. Thank you for Your kindness, Your patience. Thank You for Your forgiveness and blessing instead of punishment. You are so good. You inspire trust and confidence. Of course I would want to be like You. Maybe someday, someday. Until then I have hope in You. You continue to father me like a good father does. You call me Your son and treat me as such. You extend Your hand to me. I put mine in Yours. You give a smile that compels my own grin and we walk on together.

Is this too sappy? It sounds that way, I know. But this is the reality I live in and it is most blessed. I’ll take sappy. It is real. It is amazing. It is full.