Shadows

Normally, if somebody gave me a pen and paper and told me to express myself i'd have no trouble. I like this kind of thing - I like poems and brain splurges and making words dance. I would normally be one of those people who knows what they want to say. I normally know my Jesus is sitting next to me like a feeling in my gut.

Recently, all i've felt in my gut is panic. Cold, twisty anxiety that sits self satsified in my spirit, tying me into a throne for itself and sucking truth away. Leaving... fear.
What if i'm not loved?
Deep down I think that most of us don't understand the concept of unconditional love, and that's why we do most of the stuff we do.

God doesn't love me so i'll be good and earn his approval. Head down.
God doesn't love me so screw him i'm going to do what I want and avoid making eye contact. Head down.
Religion or rebellion.
Strive for love or pretend I don't need it.
I've done both. Sometimes more than once in a day. I'm still doing both.


But God says that he is love.


I think there is more to God than who I have made him. He is not another facet my of personality. Adrian Plass says that we cast God as whoever we think he is.
'The mean person who preaches a mean God.
Greedy folk who are convinced that God wants us to have lots of money.
The woman who suffered under punitive parents and finds that "The Lord" has taken over where her parents left off.'

The church worker whose job it is to monitor other peoples' relationships with Jesus and finds God constantly pointing out the flaws in hers.

So back to the love thing, this concept/word/ idea/ dream/ bruise/ goal/ taunt/ prize/ choice that we're all chasing, labelling and avoiding...


God says that he is love.


He says that he's love and he gives me food, shelter, clothes, sunsets, foot rubs, extended family of shiny grimy people we call church, duvets, days off, rewarding work, passion for more, contentment with where i'm at, a path to follow, promises for my future, wisdom over my past, humility of submission, fire of the fight, grit and fist and sword and spirit, hurt enough to feel and care, comfort enough to carry on, a husband who loves me instinctively and in complete honesty, eyes to see what's real, heart that breaks for the things that matter and lots of other things that 'make my heart turn violently inside of my chest' when I see them (me and God) for what they (we) are.
They tortured him. I think that means we tortured him.
On the cross he shouted 'My God (or Father), My God, why have you forsaken me?' The Bible says 'by his wounds we are healed'.

Can that be true? Can it be true that my LORD felt what I feel, that he felt that panic and fear? Did he feel twisted and hurting and icy cold inside?

The Bible says 'For God so loved the world'

Can that be true? Can he have felt that for me? My soul knows it, the bit that flips over and flings my hands in the air. But my brain has got some serious catching up to do.

I can't be bothered to rebel - even if I put the blindfold back on i'd still have seen what I have seen.
I can't sustain my religion - i'm knackered.

What now?