Where Are You?

God called to the man:  “Where are you?”

He said, “I heard you in the garden and I was afraid because I was naked.  And I hid.”  (Gen. 3:9-10, MSG)

If God has been asking me:  “Where are you?” as I know He has, I have been oblivious.  I always drift and accept that is the nature of Man’s relationship to God, to some extent.  What frightens me is how awfully long I’ve been away.  I feel I could have stayed at sea this time, and that’s a first.

Why do I hide?  Not entirely sure, but I know a little about it:

• I have no direction.  I’ve read my Bible through.  When I was doing it, I had a goal and I could keep it up.  While I absolutely know I didn’t learn all I could in one read through, I don’t know where to pick up and start again.
• I know I will disappoint God.  I am the girl who will be caught spewing a string of blue language the day after earnestly making an appeal on the behalf of the most Holy.  I hate the cycle, but I know better than to pretend it won’t happen.
• I don’t know where to go for worship.  The thought of drifting back into that area where I begin imposing legalism on myself, makes me very tired.  I physically react to the thought of going back to that me…to worshipping that god, who ends up not resembling the One I Love.
• The longer I had my back turned, the less real He became and the more real Here becomes.
• I can’t handle the pressure of ‘what if’.  What if I gave birth to children who reject God and are consigned to Hell?  What if I spend my life loving my man, doing the hard work that marriage requires, and my man doesn’t ever get it?  What if my current drift has already been too long and I’ve helped damn them myself?  What about my dad?  My mom?  My grandmother who loves better than anyone I know, but who doesn’t have a religion regimen?  I have enjoyed the peace my recent blindness has afforded me.
• I’m happy.  When I’m wrestling, I’m not.  It’s hard to consicously choose to throw over the orderly tables of your life when you’re finally happy and at peace.

I love God.  The thought that He still loves me makes me cry as I write. 

The thought of letting my children and family down with regard to God is crushing.  But in my history, so is the path to God.