Topsy Turvy

One second I think I've finally managed to drag myself back onto the wagon, the next I've fallen off again - the wagon of faith, that is.

On Tuesday evening our cell group (home group/ growth group) went to the Warehouse. It's a church-based organisation that aims to help individuals who want to serve the community find a way to do that. They run programmes of food/ clothing/ love pack distributions, organise practical tasks (like painting someone's house, or disaster response), support an orphanage and educare creche programme, run a programme for high risk youth in the townships, etc. Their work is identical to that of the Besom Foundation in the UK, but with a few more hands on, long-term projects.

Anyway, we went along to find out how we as a group can get involved on a regular basis. We had a great evening of both getting information, and then getting stuck into a practical task of packing up some love packs and some clothing packs. Being in the Warehouse (it is actually a warehouse) and doing this stuff made me remember how my faith used to be. And I found myself desperately longing for those days when God was my friend, rather than my enemy.

Since Tuesday, I've been praying a lot (well, in comparison to previously anyway) and I've been enjoying making the effort of beginning to rebuild my relationship with God. In fact, driving home yesterday, I even remarked to God how, as long as I didn't think too deeply about Zoe, it actually felt like I was 'better' (fixed, healed, restored, whatever).

This evening I received an email from a pastor in the US who asked whether he could use my comments about Zephaniah 3 in his sermon on Sunday. Since I couldn't remember what I'd said, I went back to read it. And I fell off the wagon.

As I replied to this pastor, he was more than welcome to use my comments, as long as he understood that I no longer subscribe to that view of God. I cannot reconcile the understanding of God that I have gained through experience (of one who destroys community, hope and joy, and who abandons) with that presented in Scripture (of one who builds community, hope and joy, and who rescues).

I guess my remark hit the nail on the head. As soon as I think about Zoe, whatever construct I've created falls like a house of cards. When I don't think about her, I can pretend everything is hunky-dory. I just don't have a way to be the believer I long to be until I can find some explanation for God's actions in my life.

Of course, the fact that I'm barely on speaking terms with him probably makes that much more difficult to hear/ receive...

*sigh*

This grief stuff is *%$!. As my colleague George says, "I'm so OVER this already."