Thursday, August 27, 2015

Are you there, God?: Calling God Without a Phone

I was raised in the Pentecostal tradition. I know people that can do the arms raised, dancing in the pew thing. I've seen someone speak in tongues at church, and a couple of my friends have used the phrase "slain in the Spirit" on more than one occasion. While the church I grew up in wasn't all that charismatic, I thought that was how you experienced God. Even now, among my evangelical peers, fervent worship and prayer are the exclusive methods used to connect with God.

I wouldn't have been able to articulate this at the time, but beginning at about fifteen, church started to not make sense. I didn't feel God's presence when I entered the sanctuary, when we sang worship songs, or when I prayed. While my church gave me a way in which to talk to God (a phone, if you will), I kept getting disconnected. There was an absence of God in my life not because I had deliberately chosen that for myself but because, despite attempts, I could not feel God, particularly at church, where I thought it should have been the easiest.

Today, when a worship leader asks the congregation to lift its hands, my discomfort level goes through the roof. I get self-conscious, and I can't imagine being more disconnected from God. I don't like praying because I can never articulate my thoughts, so most of the time I end up just repeating a word that in some way captures what I want to say (and if that sounds a lot like meditation, that's probably because it is). Other times, I find the most peace in saying the Lord's Prayer over and over again.

And yet what I hear is that more traditional worship is for the apathetic. Tradition and liturgy are safe and lazy, and that is not where you encounter God. What I hear is that practices like meditation have roots in eastern religions, so it is wrong to meditate even though Paul instructs the Philippians to meditate on "whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, etc" (Philippians 4:8, NRSV).

I don't want the ten-piece band, the elaborate strobe light shows, and the Hillsong music blasting in my ears. I don't need to feel like I'm at a rock concert. The kingdom of God is not on the stage but within me (Luke 17:21), so why does it matter that I'm in the woods instead of the pew on Sunday morning?

Everyone's spirituality is different. Doesn't that make sense, though? After all, everyone's spirit is different. The National Interfaith Conference on Aging defines spiritual well-being as "the affirmation of life in relationship with God, self, community, and environment that nurtures and celebrates wholeness." Which means you can feel God's spirit singing "Give Me Jesus" or a Latin hymn, in song at church or in silence at the top of a mountain. Awe and wonder can happen whether you are physically prostrate or not.

Growing up, the one service at my parents' church I looked forward to every year was the Christmas Eve service. It was the same every year. We heard the story of Jesus' birth. We sang the traditional Christmas hymns. We ended the night with candles and Silent Night. That was when I felt most connected to God, and honestly, when I felt the most connected to the rest of the church. Stripped down to a simple ritual, God becomes known. At least, that's how it is for me.

The phone doesn't work for me. Instead, I'll speak to God using a hairbrush. And maybe for someone else it'll be a shoe. When we stop forcing the phone into others' hands and asserting one spiritual hegemony (even when it's not on purpose), they can live more fully spiritual lives without feeling they have to completely leave the church or their faith.


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