Chat With God
He was with me when I admitted, “I’m just tired, you know?”
“I can give you rest,” was his reply – spoken almost as simply as I had spoken of my tiredness. It’s that easy, huh? Everything seems easy with him. The response irritates me because I know I have not gone to him for rest. It’s his only condition – that I go to him.
He disagrees. “Sometimes.”
I do worry occasionally. Its as if he hears my thoughts when he says, “Throw all your problems at me.” I can hear a note of compassion in his voice, like he really does care, but I can’t help it when my jaw tightens. The whole thing just irritates me. He’s got this perfect solution to every problem and he even knows my problems better than I do. Do you know how humiliating that is?
It’s quiet for a bit before he goes at it again, annoyingly persistent. “You feel alone, too.” I shoot him a dirty look before he continues, “But you know I will never leave you or forsake you.”
“Stop. Ok? Just stop. I don’t want it anymore.”
“You don’t want it? Or you feel like you can’t do it?”
“I can’t. I just – I can’t meet your standard, you know? Perfection? Like the perfect Christian man standard that everyone throws around, it’s just not me. I guess I’m not cut out for it.”
“It’s not about you.” That one hits home. “My grace is all you need, for my power is made perfect in your weakness.”
Great. My weakness. Rub it in. “Yeah, you know what? I am weak. I suck. Ok? Happy?”
“No. I made you and – ” he slows down and looks at me – “I love you.”
I don’t make eye contact now. It’s awkward. Not because of his insincerity, or even the timing, it’s just that I feel like the bad guy. Here I am pushing when he just wants to be my friend.
“I – I can’t do it.”
“No you don’t get it. I’m not able.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“But you want to.”
“I do. It’s just… impossible.”
“No it isn’t. You know who I am.” Silence. “Nothing is impossible for me.”
What do I say to that? It’s the ultimate trump card. “Well that’s great. Good for you. What about me? I have decisions to…”
I persist. “I’m not smart enough to even know if…”
And He has. I haven’t forgotten where I used to be. I try again. “You ask too much! I can’t manage all…”
He has. He has done it all, right from the beginning. I feel a terrible pressure around my neck and shoulders and in my gut as I realize I can’t forgive myself for this – again.
I rest a moment to reflect on these truths. The dialogue never really ends.