Sometimes God feels like a stranger.
Even if I’m not one to him.
As if he’s been totally keeping up with my life and is perfectly aware of what’s new, what’s old, what hurts and what helps, what’s on my mind and on my heart.
All while I am utterly unaware of his presence and influence: unable to remember the last time I knelt in prayer and spoke aloud, unsure of the last time I genuinely feasted on His word. Going to church on Sunday, but not going to Him. Scattered thoughts. Scattered worship. Like I’ve been doing good things, but lacking the intentionality that actually allows those good things to bring power and change into my life and heart.
Does that make sense? If not, here’s a poorly thought out image in my mind to further explain how I feel:
It’s like God is a museum tour guide. Leading a group through, gesturing to the beauty and wonders in the exhibits of life, pointing out things we otherwise would have missed or deemed insignificant, answering questions… and I find myself absentmindedly fading to the back of the group… getting distracted by something just long enough to linger until I can no longer hear the guide. I’m still with the group, still following, but at a distance that deprives me of his voice. And without that voice, all that I pass dulls. There’s no longer rhyme or reason to the flow and order of exhibits. I am limited in seeing the bigger picture and left to my own bland imagination without the expertise of the guide.
And so, I shyly tiptoe back towards the front, back towards Him. Like, “oh hi 👋🏼 I’m back… again… sorry for wondering off.”
It’s always a very humbling experience, addressing my absence with him. I never feel shame… but I do feel the weight of missing out on all he’s been up to in my life, despite my temporary blindness. He opens my eyes to show me where he has poured down blessings on me and my family, when he has opened doors I was patiently knocking on, how he has buoyed me up in deep waters. All the “exhibits” I missed and where they fit and what they mean. And I’m sad I missed it.
I’m always left wondering: how did I let it get to this point? How did I wander long enough that his hand in my life seems so absent and his words foreign?
And I’m reminded that it’s extremely possible to casually follow God. To have it all become so routine and flavorless that His voice fades in the distance and the spark of His grace and goodness, the peace and assurance of His Spirit, the sweetness and fullness of His word seem to go with it.
I recently found myself “at the back of the group,” if you will. It’s often a comfortable place to be with little kids. I was suddenly and keenly aware of the casualness that had eased its way into my pursuing God and Christ. They started to become that stranger I started this whole thing talking about.
So how do I avoid that? I break the silence.
With a letter. Well, a prayer… but in letter format.
I stumbled upon this song a couple years ago (you can listen to it below), that is called Dear God. It’s a beautiful acoustic prayer and plea rich with honesty, insecurity and unspoken questions. Then the second verse is a reply from God. “Dear Child,” it says, “I hope you know how much I love you, and I’m proud of you. And please believe that the thoughts I have for you will never change or fade away. And you felt like giving up. I never did because I’m not scared of imperfections or the questions in your head. Know that you have always been enough…”
Anyways, when I heard that song I decided to write to God. I even had my seminary students try it out. My spoken prayers are usually pretty “meh,” but I have always felt more comfortable and capable expressing myself with a pen and paper. If a song can be a prayer, or a thought, why not a letter, right?
The beginning of my letter today would read something like:
Dear God,
I’m sorry it’s been a while. To be honest, I feel like I’m struggling to make time for anyone these days – so know that it’s not just you. All my time and focus are on my baby and potty training my toddler. I never think to FaceTime my mom, though I want to and know she’d love it. I forgot to text Tyler back, it’s literally been two months. I struggle to reach out and set up times to see friends and family. So yeah, it’s not just you. I’ll try to be better, I want to be better.
… and so on.
I find that these letters turn out to be like spiritual therapy for me. They center me. They begin as silly and often self-deprecating, as seen above, but then evolve into something beautiful and raw. They allow me to hash it out on paper so I'm ready to truly worship and plead on my knees in the spoken prayer that typically follows. These usually turn out to be more heartfelt and soul-pouring than all the rest. And it reconnects me to my God and my Savior more soundly than anything else.
If you find yourself feeling like God has become a bit of a stranger, know that it's nothing to feel shame about, but it's also nothing to leave as is. Write Him a letter. Get to know Him all over again through scripture. Don't know where to start? Here are some suggestions.
Let all that He is and does become sweet all over again. Never have I felt like God is wagging His finger at me after my absence saying, "where have you been young lady?" Rather, I find that He's simply waiting for me, ready to pick up where we left off.
Because He is a patient and kind "tour guide," an understanding father, and a dear god.
