Sunday, July 5, 2009

My Faith, and Its Relativity

I just started a book called Rachel's Tears. And so far... It's very... inspiring. To pick up the torch.

And then I realized... I don't know what the torch is. I have this Bible, given to me to live by and to guide me.

But I worry that I am more in love with my idea of God than who He actually is.
And the hardest part is that... although I test him and Him more than I should... I don't think I hide.

I tell both my man and my God exactly what I don't like, what's on my heart. I've learned to do this, and sometimes I think they have learned to ignore me.

I am such a brat.

Part of this was revealed to me just a few minutes ago when Isaac told me that he doesn't think that women should be pastors or priests. And I just cried.

Lately, when I feel like crying, it's hard for me to start. It feels like there is a stopper holding everything inside of me. Not just tears, but light, and faith, Word, and laughter, Love, and hope, and determination.

But I cried with grief. Grief partly for a bit of Isaac I had misunderstood to be. And grief for my faith and its crumbly texture. And for all the people that believe different than me. And for myself and my faith, and my submission. Not to man, but to God's will.

I thought our wills were the same. Me following His... and His being the best for me.

Now, I think I am trying to steer. And in theory, I don't want to. I want to bend to my God's and then my husband's will. But I realize now that, I want to and was prepared to do that assuming they had me in mind and that we all know what is right.

I am not a smart woman. But I am not responsible for the most active parts of the making of me.

I do not belong to me, just as I do not belong to the world or any man.

But I do not understand... And I want to, Lord.
I want to love You... And you, Isaac.

But you both make it so hard.

Because You make beauty and tell it to settle and hush.
And you told me I was beautiful and smart... but you agree.

All of the flowers in the garden get to stretch as far as they can to reach you.
And I want to, too.
All of your children should stretch to reach you.
And no one has authority but You.

there is no gender
there is no pain
there is no competition
there is no retreat
there is no wondering
there is no shame
there is no imagination
there is no truth
there is no death

There's only You.