The God Kit

“Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; he who seeks finds; and to him who knocks, the door will be opened. Matthew 7:7-8 (NIV)

God, how can I turn my will and my life over to you?
How, God?
Mama said when sis drowned, just four years old,
you needed her more than we did.
Uncle Jess said that tsunami was your doing,
an Act of God he called it.
Preacher says you sent Jacky to Hell
cause he messed up and shot himself
to keep from going to prison.

I can’t do that third step thing, God!
That makes sense.
Who said that? Where are you?
Who were you talking to?
I am the God of Abraham, Isaac, Jacob
—and David, Peter, Paul, Martin Luther, Mother Teresa….
Holy Shit! I mean Jesus Christ!
That too, in a circular kind of way.
Great God Almighty!
That works. I am who I am.
Wow! That’s what you told Moses—
with a burning bush. Why don’t I get a burning bush?
You started this conversation.
I didn’t need to get your attention.
Oh. Yeah.
But you told him take off his shoes,
the Holy Ground bit.
You’re not wearing shoes.
And the cultural meaning is gone, too.
These days I’d be more likely to
ask for clothes that cover.
But that’s beside the point.
What point?
Like I said, you started the conversation.
I think the language is
“Made a decision to turn our will
and our lives over to the care of God
as we understood Him.”
Oh. Yeah. I guess I was pretty smart aleck.
So, are you going to zap me?
Certainly not.
At least it’s real, not just rote recitation.
You got my attention with your passion.
You care.
That means something.
Why did you need a four-year-old, then?
I need all my children,
but that doesn’t mean I reach out and
pluck them from lives and families.
I would have chosen she have a long life,
that she experience more of the give and take
of being human.
But she died.
She died.
I know, and I felt your pain,
your parents’,
I gave you all the comfort you could accept.
You could have closed the gate.
I’m not a puppeteer.
People have free will.
I watch, but I don’t meddle.
I watch and sigh and hurt and wait for an invitation in.
Oh. And my griping was enough invitation?
Oh, yes. Anything real. Anything thought and felt.
I’m honored.
Actually, I’m honored.
A real communication honors me.
Even gritching?
Even gritching.
So, what kind of God would you trust?
Oh, never mind. I can trust you.
You expect me to believe that?
You’re not sure.
I’ve got to think about this.
There you go again.
What do you mean?
You don’t find me by thinking.
You find me by knowing me,
by talking with me,
by walking with me.
Get out of your head and into your heart.
Okay. I’m talking with you.
I can’t believe it, but I’m talking with you.
So, what kind of God would you trust?
One who knocks Jerry off his high horse and loves me.
Would you really trust that kind of God?
I guess not, I’d be afraid Jerry would start praying.
So, you want a God who loves you, what else?
How about one who makes me not react
when Jerry pushes my buttons.
That’s doable.
Well, obviously I need a God with a sense of humor.
You’re certainly that.
Yes. All the somber faces and resignation sadden me.
Well, I don’t want you making me
do things like handing out pamphlets on street corners.
What else?
I’d like explanations with orders.
And respect my intelligence.
Don’t treat me like a child.
Speaking of orders,
it sounds like you’re doing that
rather than describing the God you want.
I don’t want a God who sends people to Hell.
Tell me where the bible says that’s what I do.
Preacher says so.
Go to the source. What else?
Lead me gently. Don’t push.
I’m not a puppeteer.
Did you get pissed off at that Gideon guy,
not being able to figure out what you were telling him,
asking for proof? Three times!
Honest communication doesn’t anger me.
Sorry. Anger you. It’s not my usual vocabulary.
I know. What else?
Wise a…. Smart aleck.
Good choice.
Okay. What else?
Can I save some wishes for later?
Do I have to do it right now?
I’ll be here.
How many choices do I get?
Are you kind of like a buffet line?
I can pick and choose and
come back and get more or something different?
Maybe a buffet line is a poor analogy
for a compulsive eater.
How about a toolbox?
Yeah. Can you take away my binging in buffet lines?
Yes. But guiding you away from that eating establishment
could come into play as well.
I guess I need a God who gives abstinence
and wipes out my cravings.
No more buffets.
I didn’t say that.
One day at a time.
One day at a time.
Every day?
I’ll be here.

Taken from Slender Steps to Sanity