I went to see a friend and mentor about my problem of God in a box. His name is Charlie Walker. He talks real slow so people think that he thinks real slow too. Not true. We agreed to meet at the Waffle House when he called me back after I left a somewhat panicked and tear wrought message on his answering machine. I got there early to prepare myself for what was to come, whatever it was going to be. I don’t know what I expected, but I felt more like I was going to the principle’s office than meeting a friend for advice. I sat uncomfortably in my booth surrounded with eighties décor, though the building isn’t even ten years old. I imagined myself being reprimanded for what I was about to confess, my doubt in God. I folded my arms on the table and laid my head down. I would have cried, but I was too tired for that.
A few minutes later Charlie came in with his signature waddle and lighthearted smile. He is a short man in his early fifties, a little less wide than he is tall. His eyes shine with the depth wisdom affords. His presence is so disarming that my fears immediately faded. After ordering dinner and some small talk with the WaHo manager (Charlie knows everyone in this town) we got down to business.
“Tell me about your problems, Matthew,” he said slowly, slouching in the booth across from me in his typical way. He made me laugh. My walls came down and I explained to Charlie that I felt I was losing faith in God, or at least how I’ve thought of Him until this point. I told him of my frustration of wanting more, but not finding it and how seeing all these others who have found something more just furthered my frustration. I told him about the horrible day I’d had, how I’d wigged out at work and just had to leave. I felt my whole world was unwinding in a matter of hours, all because I think too much. It was like having a mid-life crisis at age twenty-one and I felt like God’s ugly step-child. He listened patiently and intently until I was finished and then he just sat there for a minute, letting the words come to him.
When the words finally came they came with the same calmness with which he’d acknowledged mine. He explained that what I was experiencing was completely natural, which I agreed, that doubt is often Satan’s tool of choice for those who choose to make thinking a habit. He told me that God is doing something in my life, that this is part of the process. I could actually see what he was talking about too, though to a lesser extent (perspective is everything). He also told me something that he has told me many times before (I guess I haven’t gotten the point yet), “you cannot base your faith on how you feel or what your mind tells you.” The truth in those words is so obvious that they almost don’t need explanation. The soul (mind, will, and emotions) is fleshly in nature, opposed to the heart of God. It’s what Satan uses to lie to God’s children. I guess this is partly why sanctification is so important; it reigns in the soul under the authority of God so that Satan cannot hold sway.
The conversation lulled a few moments as our waitress interrupted for the umpteenth time to ask us if we needed anything. She was a young girl who had obviously been hurt in her past, but was still so innocent. She was meek, almost cowerly, but sweet also. I bet she had a huge propensity to love, though it was stifled by hurt and pain. She made me sad with her tender smile and soft voice. I hadn’t said anything to Charlie about the girl, but he echoed my thoughts with a soft comment.
We sat there a while. I ate my hash browns; scattered, covered and chunked. Charlie ate his toast and eggs. This was his second meal that night. He made some comment on his jovial belly and asked if I had been exercising regularly. I hadn’t been (and it’s starting to show).
Then Charlie got serious again. What was about to come out of his mouth was probably the most significant thing I’ve ever heard him say, “Matthew,” he says your name a lot when you’re talking to him, I like that, “the biggest problem with you and your generation is you are looking for experiences with God instead of relationships with Him.” He had nailed me and he knew it. This was a truth far more profound that what I realized. God had been dropping hints at me for sometime now, but waited for this moment to come out blazing. I sat there stunted at how obvious this all was. It was like all my big God revelations until now led to this one huge truth.
I think about my relationship with God in completely wrong terms. I think about it in terms of experiences with Him instead of focusing on the day-in and day-out relationship I’m suppose to be having with Him. I get frustrated, even angry when my quiet times don’t spawn some huge life defining moment everyday. If the preacher’s sermon doesn’t act like Miracle Grow to my soul then he’s a lousy preacher. And heaven forbid that everyday life doesn’t go my way: that I’ll get cheap tips from work or my cell will get washed, that I won’t have the car when I need it or gas will jump eight cents. It must mean God’s abandoned me! What foolishness!
Grandiose experiences with the Lord are more like mile markers on the road of relationships. They are not the relationships themselves. There is nothing wrong with these experiences, its just that they are not the essence of what knowing God is really about. Relationship with God is about trusting in Him when there seems no reason to do so; to praise Him by loving Him in spite of difficult circumstances; to say to yourself, “I am God’s child and He loves me,” when everything around you is trying to say otherwise. I, of all people, should have learned this by now. I have suffered far more than I admit to those around me, and God has seen me through every bit of it.
“God is far more concerned with your character than he is with fixing all your problems instantly,” Charlie added. I want a quick fix to all life’s little and big difficulties, who doesn’t! But He has allowed these sufferings. In Romans Paul tell us that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope and that hope does not disappoint because God has poured out His love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit (Romans 5). This is one of my favorite promises in scripture. It’s a threefold chord not easily broken when you think you’re hanging on by a thread.
This led me to think about how selfish my view of God has been until now. It has all been about what God can do for me, what I can get out of God. Granted, this is what initially draws many to the faith, and that’s okay. As a matter of fact I believe God designed it that way. But there comes a point when the hearts desire changes, when it is no longer all about me, but about what I can do for the Lord. What can I do for the Lord? Nothing. He doesn’t need me. He can do anything and everything without my input or help. He doesn’t rely on me for anything (and thank God he doesn’t because if He did, nothing would ever get done). This ‘what to do for God’ could better be described as a yearning to please Him, to make Him smile as a Father would his child. There is a stark contrast between striving to do stuff for God, as if our actions could win or lose His favor, and yearning for the smile of Heaven. The evangelist/author John Piper wrote an excellent book on desiring God and how finding joy in Him is the foundation of pleasing Him and fulfilling our purpose.
But to please God we must have faith. The Bible says that without faith, it is impossible to please God. So, God is restructuring my faith so that it better pleases Him, so that I find more joy in Him, which is exactly what I wanted in the first place! How ironic is it that the frustration resulting from being unable to go deeper with God will be the very thing that God uses to draw me closer to Him?
I left Waffle House that night very exhausted and still somewhat frustrated, but I knew that God was with me, that He hadn’t abandoned me and that He loved me, even if I didn’t feel it or think it or experience it in a tangible, explainable way. And I believe that’s the way God wanted it to be, to put principle into practice.
Charlie kindly paid for dinner even after I argued with him, classic Charlie. I left our waitress a hefty tip, but felt it lacked any real substance in comparison to what God could offer her, or what she could offer Him. Once outside I hugged Charlie good night and drove home.
As chance would have it, I ended up at Charlie’s house later on the night and spent some time in prayer before God with a friend, something I haven’t done in a long time. Again God reminded me that He wasn’t finished with me, that He has hardly begun. I told my friend a little of my evening with Charlie and he confessed to me the same longing to please God in his heart. There was a sweet presence at Charlie’s house as we prayed to our Father and even if there hadn’t been it would have been alright. When I finally went home that night I felt satisfied, like I had honestly pleased my heavenly Daddy in my yearning, in my suffering to find joy in Him. I fell asleep ready to meet with Him the next day, ready for the everyday adventure of having a relationship with Him.
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