Like an animal

I have learned so much from animals and nature. There's is a world only ruined by association. This means it functions much closer to perfection and where the affects of ruination are felt they are handled more like they would be handled in a perfect state.

Right now, I'm thinking of how animals and even plants (which are far more responsive than people think, only on a much slower time scale) do not judge. If they form opinions, they do not affect behavior in any large degree. They take each action or event as it comes, they tolerate massive amounts of wrong, and they are slow to learn fear or hate while being quick to forgive.

I wonder if I can learn to live like this. Can I not expect, not interpret, not figure? Can I learn to simply be and watch and react appropriately? I've spent years thinking about things in hopes of reaching peace through ultimate understanding. If I could see how things all work, I'd be able to rest in that just like when you understand your surgery or illness you feel less anxious about it. Not that I ever thought I would get to the end, but it was the distant goal that defined a paradigm.

But now I'm starting to realize that this may not be the answer. Like Solomon returning to rest in meaninglessness, I'm finding that understanding brings no peace.

No matter what I learn, I feel like I've done all this before. Had these realizations, cycled around, and nothing has really changed.

I recognized the cycles before, but I envisioned them spiraling upward where each cycle was a little closer to truth. But I doubt that now.

Now I want to get off the train. I want to watch it draw away from me and take all it's energy and activity with it. I want to look and simply see what is there, not be preoccupied with things that aren't there. Wars and rumors of wars, a chasing after the wind, trying to capture shadows. I want to see feel what is there without having to analyze, systematize and categorize. I just want to feel and let the feeling go into the next, good, bad, sad, or indifferent.

I want a simple and gentle yet unabashed honesty, like animals, to the greatest degree I can.

God, help me.

Christians talk of love.  We're told to overlook, forgive, bear with, no one is perfect, don't judge.  And yet, in so many cases, this is entirely the duty of the listener and not at all reflected by the speaker or his organization.

It starts to sound hollow after awhile.  So I'm supposed to be eternally forgiving offences against me, some of which are grossly wrong...morally, ethically, personally wrong...and yet the person/people preaching this are the very offenders who then refuse to show it to me, to bear with me, to overlook, forgive, withhold judgement of my faults.

Now the moralist in me is screaming that two wrongs don't make a right and that one must do right regardless of how one is treated.  OK.  I know this.  But it doesn't change the bitterness and anger that rise up at it again and again.  And it isn't everyone.  I know many people who do live out their faith and have shown me great love, even when I don't deserve it.  So again, I blame the institution for creating the paradigm in which a man can stand over anonymous heads and orate without having to answer to the eyes and mouths of those he speaks to.  Where he doesn't have to feel the full and immediate effect of his words.  There has to be a better way.

I feel like I know that way too.  I have glimpsed it, smelled it, but can't quite apprehend it.  I'm not planning anything.  I'm over trying to work my own will in these cases.  I just don't have the energy any more.  But I want to understand, to walk in it, to help it grow where it sprouts.

Am I missing something?  I find myself cringing from certain aspects of the faith.  Embarrassed by them.  I don't want to be caught listening to Christian radio.  I don't even like the music.  I just need some uplifting, faithful, stilling presence and commercial radio (at least the genres I can tolerate) is all about degradation and glory in low things.  I hate to pray over meals in public, though I do it at home with a will and a desire to instill it in my son.

Am I embarrassed by the faith?  No.  I'm not.  I'll easily tell someone I'm Christian, that I go to church, that I believe in universal Truth and live morally, etc.  I'll discuss my faith at length and detail in certain contexts, not just amongst other Christians.  So I am not embarrassed by the faith.  So what is it?

If it was just hokey contrivances, I would not do them myself.  So I see value in them.  This means the issue must be deeper.  Perhaps a fear of seeming naive or backward.  Perhaps of being misunderstood.  I can't tell what it is.  My Evangelical background steps forward at this point and begins condemning me that those who are ashamed of Christ, he will be ashamed of.  Words from his own mouth!  And my heart quails.  But yet I find the same reactions persisting.

I am fickle and inconsistent.  And then I am reminded quietly of Peter who denied Christ three times after just proclaiming his allegiance and even using a blade against an armed troop of men to defend Jesus.  I am reminded of Paul who could not do the good he wanted to do, though he knew what it was.

And so this Sunday, when I was sitting in church, at odds with the place and myself, the pastor, whom I don't even know if I like and certainly don't yet trust, calls us to take Communion in a way that does not put me off.  Not single serving plastic wrapped.  Not greatly orated.  Simply saying that we will serve ourselves because, "you need no one coming between you and your God."  And so I go forward, looking into my own heart, wondering what I will say to Him in the moment, though I feel something must be said.  At the same time, I dred that my heart may burst out my eyes in front of everyone, as too often happens when I encounter God.  I take the wafer, dip it in the cup, and at that second, my heart cries out, "God, help me."

I don't even know where it came from...well I do really.  But I was not planning it, I promise you.  I felt my eyes well, clenched my teeth to stop it, and rushed back to my seat.  Then it came to me that this simple line is the essence of my faith, of all faith.  I don't know.  I can't do.  God, help me.

And on this rock, I can stand.  Nothing more, nothing less.  God, help me.  God, help me.