Whoever You are,
I believe in God. And although I don’t think its necessary
that I have to say that or prove it, I feel like for whatever reason, it
shouldn’t be assumed, it should be stated.
Life is precious, and beautiful, it is awesome—as in it
leaves me in awe. I think one of the many reasons why I believe in the Great
Mystery. I have only to believe that the intricate perfection in Creation is a
pale, and not quite glorious enough reflection of You.
I have had many experiences of You, and the reason I
continue to be drawn back to your Spirit is because you know me like no one
else. The verse that says you know every hair on my head does not give justice
to the deeper things you know about me personally. I have turned my face from
you in pain, in despair, in confidence, and out of self-protection. I didn’t
want to get hurt by believing that You were enough, only to find out You
weren’t. But that didn’t stop You from constant pursuit. You pursued me on my
time, in my own way, because you know that part of me too. I have screamed at
you, worshipped you, held you at arms length. I’ve been still with you,
forgotten you, and cried to you. But today I feel like I’m crying with you,
because you’ve already experienced what I’m experiencing.
There are many needs we have as human beings, as
individuals. Today one of my deepest needs is to be known. I could care less
how people pronounce my name, although I will never understand why Californians
always say “On-DREY-ah.” I don’t need to make the history books or any record
of anything. I just need to be known as uniquely and wonderfully made. I need
to be known not for what I believe, or my theology, but the essence of who I
am.
People will judge my relationship according to their ideals,
according to their set of rules, and they’ll put me in (or out) of their box.
But You know that all to well, don’t you? It’s harder to deal with that in some
people than in others. Obviously, if there is no relationship there, I could
care less what people think of me. But for those who are supposed to know me
the most, the wound is deep. How do you do it? How do you continue to pursue a
relationship with someone that refuses to know more about you? Great Mystery
indeed.
Part of my identity is my belief and relationship with You. Although
I cannot put human words to who You are, I don’t think that’s a requirement. I
feel you in my soul. Your breath inhabits my being. I could turn away again,
and likely will out of self-preservation, but I cannot deny that You are there.
You are the life within my being. And so I say boldly, I am not ashamed that my
identity is in You. I believe who you say I am, because I have experienced Your
grace, Your tender touch, I have even heard Your voice. I’m a mystic, so that
experiential stuff puts a period on the end of all those sentences for me. I
can never deny Your existence, because I have experienced You.
But I am grieving the loss of being known by people I love
because of my beliefs, or the priority I put on love. This confuses me most of
all, because I thought YOU were love?!
I will continue to love people deeply, including and especially those who
identify as LGBTQIA. Some will sneer because I don’t buy the theory of
substitutionary atonement. I didn’t even
know it was a thing until two weeks ago!! And frankly, I don’t get the
trinity—not really. But I think the important part is your love—certainly how
I’ve experienced you.
In all this desire to be known—Your own personal
experience—you pierce my heart by meeting my deepest need.
“I love you. You are
my daughter. I know you, and I love who you are. I know you more fully than you
know yourself…and I love all of you. I see you, and I’m weeping with you. My
heart is your heart. Your hurt is my hurt.”
To me, You are more than a patriarchal being that requires
things to be only one way. You are mystery.
You are awe. You are Abba and the soft-skinned, cozy woman
who just holds me while I weep in her arms. You are all things good, although I
cannot fully grasp or contain what good really means when describing you.
So I believe in God, although I don’t prefer to use that
word. It feels too simple, and carrying too much baggage from centuries of
misuse from my kind. I believe in You. I’m in relationship with You. I commune
with You. And I love You.
