A Right Relationship to God

Are we prepared to leave ourselves resolutely alone and to launch out into the priestly work of prayer?  The continual grubbing on the inside to see whether we are what we ought to be generates a self-centered, morbid type of Christianity, not the robust, simple life of a child of God.  Until we get into a right relationship to God, it is a case of hanging on by the skin of our teeth, as we say.  (Oswald Chambers, My Utmost for His Highest, June 21)

Recently I had one of my "feel sorry for myself" episodes.   I have trouble with the prayer of examen at times.  When I look closely at my conscience and the desires I struggle with, I am appalled.  I think one reason is that I am hoping for a cure more than for God's grace; I want to be free from the things that tie me to God's mercy.  At the heart of it, I think I get angry because I cannot achieve autonomy more than being sorry for my sins.  I become increasingly self-centered and morbid in these moods.

The encouragement to leave myself "resolutely alone" reminds me that my even if my goal is merely to get better and grow stronger, I will not get anywhere without God at my side.  I was not made to "go it alone."  I was made to be in a close conversational relationship with God.  Jesus as the Son of Man, the ideal person, shows this in his life and words.  Everything he does is done with the Father at his side - and he has no sin in his life.

Actually, this is the essence of freedom from sin: living with the Father at my side.  Sin is merely what I do when I do not live this way.  Sins are the particular things I do in order to try to live without the Father on my own steam.  They are indicators of what my life is like without the Father.

The answer, then, is not looking inside and trying to figure out how I can get rid of sin so I can get back to God.  Since the source of my sins is distance from God, I cannot fix them apart from seeking the "right relationship" with him, a relationship of trust and continual interaction.  Like marriage, my relationship with God is repaired and deepened with the right kind of relationship with God.  Marriage is not what I do for my wife or how I think about her as much as what we do together.  Like family, my relationship with God is not merely something I work for, but something I must participate in and enjoy.  Family is not what I bring home for my kids or what opportunities I give them as much as how we live together and love each other.  A "right" relationship with God is not what I do for God or what I think about him as much as how we do life together, as a Father and son, or as a master and apprentice.

My sins, then are my efforts to live apart from this relationship and replace it with another kind.  Sins are the cracks and empty places in my life where God needs to be in order for my life to be restored and full.  Maybe I need to think about God less and exercise my fondness for him.  Maybe I need to do less for him and do more with him.  The greatest danger to my relationship with God, I think, is my service to God.  My sins tell the story.

Lord, I get knotted up inside when I try to fix myself apart from seeking you.  I will seek you, O God; your face will I seek.  In being with you as a Father, I know I will find repair and restoration.  I will find myself safe and sound in that relationship.  Instead of seeking to please you, help me to trust you more and walk with you consistently through this day and each day.  Amen.

"A Quiet More Deep Than Death"

Rest

I.

When round the earth the Father's hands
  Have gently drawn the dark;
Sent off the sun to fresher lands,
  And curtained in the lark;
'Tis sweet, all tired with glowing day,
  To fade with faded light;
To lie once more, the old weary way,
  Upfolded in the night.

A mother o'er the couch may bend,
  And rose-leaf kisses heap:
In soothing dreams with sleep they blend,
  Till even in dreams we sleep.
And, if we wake while night is dumb,
  'Tis sweet to turn and say,
It is an hour ere dawning come,
  And I will sleep till day.






II.






There is a dearer, warmer bed,
  Where one all day may lie,
Earth's bosom pillowing the head,
  And let the world go by.
Instead of mother's love-lit eyes,
  The church's storied pane,
All blank beneath cold starry skies,
  Or sounding in the rain.






The great world, shouting, forward fares:
  This chamber, hid from none,
Hides safe from all, for no one cares
  For those whose work is done.
Cheer thee, my heart, though tired and slow
  An unknown grassy place
Somewhere on earth is waiting now
  To rest thee from thy race.









III.






There is a calmer than all calms,
  A quiet more deep than death:
A folding in the Father's palms,
  A breathing in his breath;
A rest made deeper by alarms
  And stormy sounds combined:
The child within its mother's arms
  Sleeps sounder for the wind.





There needs no curtained bed to hide
  The world with all its wars,
Nor grassy cover to divide
  From sun and moon and stars
A window open to the skies,
  A sense of changeless life,
With oft returning still surprise
  Repels the sounds of strife.







IV.






As one bestrides a wild scared horse
  Beneath a stormy moon,
And still his heart, with quiet force,
  Beats on its own calm tune;
So if my heart with trouble now
  Be throbbing in my breast,
Thou art my deeper heart, and Thou,
  O God, dost ever rest.






When mighty sea-winds madly blow,
  And tear the scattered waves;
As still as summer woods, below
  Lie darkling ocean caves:
The wind of words may toss my heart,
  But what is that to me!
'Tis but a surface storm--Thou art
  My deep, still, resting sea.

(Geroge MacDonald,1864)