Essay: When God Isn’t

Please note: The essays and poems posted for the rest of 2010 will be some of my personal favorites from FlowerDust.net. New essays and poems will begin soon. I hope you enjoy the “best of” my five years of blogging.

(*Originally posted June 27, 2010)

Before heading out on this cycling trip, one thing I was curious about was how “God would show up” and I was really excited to “find Him” in different ways.

Anyway, I thought I had it figured out, this “God showing up” thing. In my fantasy I was leaning head-down into the wind, pathways of sweat cutting across my face and rolling off into the road behind me. I heard the vibration of my bike moving across hot asphalt as blades of grass and insects buzzed next to my feet. My chest moved in and out as my lungs expanded and emptied with each breath. I felt the movement of God in me. I felt alive.

We’re now on our fourth week of this trip and my God-fantasy is just that. A fantasy. There have been no magic burning bushes or epiphanies had on the open roads. In fact, it’s maybe been the opposite.

And as expected, the unexpected has happened.

Physically, the heat and climbing escalated my almost-fixed-but-evidently-not-quite heart problem. That knocks me out from riding every mile on certain days with big climbs or 100 degree plus weather.

Didn’t see that coming.

On top of that, the day before two really great rides in Texas, a component of my bike broke to an extent I couldn’t effectively ride. Chris and I had planned to do our first century rides together into Anson, TX (which is close to where I went to high school) but because I couldn’t get my bike fixed before that day, I ended up driving the van.

In keeping a healthy perspective, my unplanned time in the van isn’t really a big deal. Before my heart surgery, simply walking to the van would have been tough. So riding 30 miles, 50 miles, 80 miles…any miles, really…is beyond anything I could have hoped for a year ago.

But my perspective isn’t always healthy.

I’ve been fighting with my “ideal” self – the athlete I was before my heart problems. I know my muscles are strong and can handle these long miles. Except for the literal pain in the butt from sitting on a six-inch seat for seven hours, nothing really hurts.

If only my heart worked right, this wouldn’t be such a struggle for me.

If only…

The unexpected has thrown my spiritual fantasy out the door as well. And once again, it has to do with my heart.

What I expected is something emotional. Cathartic. Exciting. Clear. Maybe even miraculous in an obvious way. I’m supposed to be writing another book and planning my future as an author and speaker. I wait each day, hoping for a revelation on what I’m supposed to do when I get back in August and each night go to bed as empty handed as I woke up.

If only…

What I am realizing is the extent I let my expectations control me. My heart – both physically and spiritually – had formed expectations for this trip. Expectations that aren’t being met. I’ve spent so much of my spiritual life coasting from a mountain top to a valley and back up again, so I only expect to see God at the top or at the bottom on a roller coaster.

What happens when there is no roller coaster?

What happens when the land of my spirit is flat?

How do I find Him?

And when I don’t “feel” Him…where do I turn?

Quite honestly, I find myself turning the other way.

(Evidently I am not gifted with patience.)

“What? You’re not here? Okay. Fine. I’m gonna try running over there to find you.”

I’m left breathless and exhausted at the end.

My heart…It’s not perfect.

It beats too fast sometimes.

It gets anxious.

It doesn’t like to wait.

It likes to experience the highs and lows, but never the middle.

The middle is too quiet. Too tame.

And as such, too threatening to my comfort.

In the same way I can’t control how my physical heart functions, I can’t control how God shows Himself, or how I see him.

What happens when God isn’t a feeling? When He isn’t a high or an adrenaline rush or a moment of clarity when I expect Him to be?

God simply is, and I need to simply be.

I need to realize that in that holy moment of simply being, it’s not about my expectations.

It’s about His.

Resting.

Existing.

Living.

Being.

Right here. Right now.

In this moment.

With this heart beat.

And this one.

And that’s all He wants (and expects) of me.