The neighbors probably think I'm crazy. I tried to keep my voice down. It came out in tight, painful whispers that had all the pressure of a scream behind them. I shook my fists, I shadow-boxed in the dark like a real fighter. I kicked the dirt so hard my shoe flew off. I flung myself down on my back in the ditch and looked up at the stars and they seemed so cold and far-off and inconsequential. I've never thought that about the stars before.
I've shouted at God to answer me. I've begged him to make me see if he truly is there. I've shaken my fists and poured out my angry heart, and the sky stays silent. The wind blows steady against my face. There are no shapes in the clouds. There is nothing at all. No answer. No acknowledgment. Not even a sense of peace as I stare into the vastness of the universe.
If it is all just empty. If this is all we get, this life. If it's lies or miscontrued ancient teachings or inspired writing or an extension of a set of laws invented in ancient Jewish history. Because it doesn't read "God of mercy" or "God of perfect love". He says perfect love casts out fear, but I am afraid of him. I am afraid of his supposed standards and how my very being defies them. How does one live with those questions? How does one write a "Christian" blog when god and christian just got demoted to lowercase letters?
I don't know what I like to wear. I don't know who I like to make friends with. I don't know how I like to spend free time. I don't know how I ended up where I am, here in the lonely now with 4 kids. I don't know if I like my hair, or whether or not I want to keep wearing make-up, shaving, using perfume.
Giant questions spewing out everywhere with no easy answers. I try to be gentle with myself, trust that it will turn out, somehow. I have begged the sky and received only darkness in return.
I ponder scientific laws and Bible verses, the words of Rabindranath Tagore and the teachings of Jesus of Nazareth. I wonder how much has changed from the Hebrew, the Greek - what has survived and what has been altered, adulturated to meet the standards of the time in which it was revised. How culturally embedded is our Bible at this stage of history?
Funny thing is, I'm sleeping great. And so far I haven't been struck by lightening.