The Way Back to Abiding …. Part 5
When doing for God begins to replace being with God
By Day Five, I was angry.
Not raging. Not falling apart.
Disappointed.
Disappointed in myself.
And, if I'm telling the truth, disappointed in God.
I had deliberately made space to hear Him. I had prayed. I had read Jeremiah. I had repented. I had sat with Song of Songs and allowed Him to remind me that I was loved. I had wrestled with accusation and fruitfulness in Luke 13. I had examined what I might have buried in Matthew 25.
I had listened.
I had waited.
And I still didn't have what I came for.
An answer.
Where do I go?
What do I do?
What's next?
Nothing.
So I went for a prayer walk.
And I told God exactly what I thought.
This wasn't the first time I had been angry with God. There have been other seasons when the anger came through tears and deep pain. This wasn't that.
This was disappointment.
His silence disappointed me.
I disappointed me.
And I'm not particularly afraid to tell God those things.
He already knows.
Eventually, after getting it all out, I asked Him to speak truth over my feelings.
Because my feelings were real, but that didn't necessarily mean my interpretation of His silence was true.
Scripture gives us plenty of examples of people bringing raw emotion to God. The Psalms repeatedly ask, How long, Lord? Job certainly didn't sanitize his anguish.
God does not need me to pretend with Him.
So I didn't.
The walk finished–still no answer.
I left to have coffee with a friend, listening to a podcast, The Deep End with Taylor Welch, on the way.
And then came a question.
Not in the dramatic way I had been demanding.
A simple question spoken in the podcast that jumped into my spirit..
“Are you after God—or are you after the answer?”
Oh.
My.
Goodness.
I Wanted Both
My immediate response was:
Both!
Of course I wanted God.
I love God.
My life has been built around trying to follow Him. I go where I believe He sends me. I want to obey.
And I wanted the answer.
Surely I could want both.
But the question wouldn't leave me alone.
Because I wasn't disappointed that I hadn't gotten enough of God during those days.
I was disappointed that I hadn't gotten the answer.
That realization stopped me.
I had come away specifically because something in my relationship with God needed attention.
And almost immediately I had turned that time into another search for instructions.
Where?
What?
Who?
What's next?
I had brought the very thing God was addressing into the place where He was addressing it.
Maybe God hadn't been refusing to answer my questions.
Maybe He was answering the question I wasn't smart enough to ask.
Not because I'm stupid, but because His ways are higher than mine.
I came asking, Where am I going?
He was asking, Do you still want Me when I don't tell you where?
I came asking, What am I supposed to do?
He was addressing what had happened between the doing and the abiding.
I wanted direction.
He wanted my attention.
Looking back, I can see why getting an answer on Day One might not have been good for me.
Because I know myself.
If He had given me a clear assignment on Day One, I probably would have gotten up from the chair and started doing it.
I would have made the phone call.
Bought the ticket.
Written the plan.
Started the project.
Whatever obedience required, I would have moved toward it.
I would have moved on.
And I don't want to do that.
Obedience wasn't the thing I had lost.
Abiding was.
Another assignment wouldn't have fixed that.
In fact, another assignment might have allowed me to continue avoiding it.
What If There Is No Assignment Today?
Jesus said:
“Remain in me, as I also remain in you.” – John 15:4
Not:
Remain in Me until I give you your next instructions.
Remain.
Abide.
Stay.
Make your home here.
Somewhere along the way, I had begun treating intimacy with God as preparation for ministry.
Pray so I can hear.
Read so I know what to teach.
Fast so I receive direction.
Listen so I know where to go.
All of those can be good.
But what if I pray because I want Him?
What if I read Scripture because I want to know Him?
What if I sit quietly without requiring Him to turn the silence into an assignment?
What if He is enough when there is nothing to do?
What if sitting on the stoop isn't preparation for the next thing?
What if sitting with Him is the thing?
Like my grandson, God simply wants me to sit with him.
Back to the Basics
So I went back.
Prayer.
Scripture.
Fasting.
Meditating on His Word.
Waiting.
Not as punishment.
Not as penance.
Not because I needed to prove to God that I was serious this time.
And not because checking enough spiritual-discipline boxes would force Him to speak.
The disciplines aren't the relationship.
They create space in my life to attend to the relationship.
I can read three chapters and never truly attend to God.
I can pray words while my mind remains somewhere else.
I can fast and still be consumed with myself.
The goal isn't to become impressive at spiritual disciplines.
The goal is God.
Not because God had withdrawn His love until I performed correctly.
Because relationships require attention.
I printed a Bible reading plan.
I repented again.
And I prayed:
Renew my love for Your Word.
Renew my love for prayer.
Renew my love for You.
Renew our relationship.
I still want answers.
I still want to be obedient.
I still want to go wherever He sends me and do whatever He asks.
But I understand now why an answer wasn't what I needed most.
He, of course, was right not to give me the answers.
I still want answers.
I still want to be obedient.
I still want to go wherever He sends me and do whatever He asks.
But I understand now why an answer wasn’t what I needed most.
And I don't want to move on.
There will be another assignment–another place to go, another thing to do, another yes to give.
But right now, I don't want the next thing to come at the expense of this one.
I want Him.
So I am returning to the Word. Returning to prayer. Returning to the disciplines that help me remain—not because they earn His presence, but because I don't want to take His presence for granted.
The next assignment can wait.
I'm choosing to abide again.