I Wouldn’t Answer Me Either

“He does me double wrong that wounds me with the flatteries of his tongue.”

 

-William Shakespeare, Richard II,  (Act III, Scene II)

I think that sometimes I flatter God more than I worship Him. 

This has been a disconcerting revelation to say the least, because truly, I want to worship God as He deserves. I want to offer guileless praise without being hamstrung by self-consciousness or rendered somnolent and mute by cold heartedness. And surely, there are times that I do,—but far too often I approach God as my benefactor, or as the just adjudicator of circumstance rather than as my intimate beloved for whom I am wholly His and He is mine. It’s wrong and I know it; and I keep trying to find my way out of this mixed-up view of God. 

I will linger with a sunset until the last flash gold dissolves into purple beyond the horizon without then describing the sunset to itself and requesting that it send some work my way. I’ll draw near to the intricate unfolding petals of a flower without complimenting it for its ecstatic colours and then asking it for direction. No, in such moments I just behold the beauty for as long as I can and marvel at the God who thought up such fanciful things and gave me the ability to revel in their glory. 

Yet day after day, my prayers are more reminiscent of giving God a shortlist of my unchanging problems than they are of sitting in His presence and beholding His majesty just for the awe and wonder that such a seat affords. Instead, I feel frustrated and powerless to change any thing at all. My Benefactor isn’t cutting the cheque that will make me feel like I have a harvest in the earth. My just and righteous Judge has other files on His desk of greater importance. Prayer feels like I’m leaving a voicemail that no one wants to listen to. I know it isn’t supposed to be this way and vaguely I know the remedy has something to do with true worship, so I’ll throw in a few compliments to Almighty God hoping to soften the whole heavens-are-like-brass feeling.

Geez, when I put it like that, I wouldn’t answer me either.

Entering his gates with thanksgiving and his courts with praise isn’t a say-the-password scenario. The more I ponder it, the more I discover that I keep learning the same lessons over again—deeper and deeper—like drilling downwards to the core of the matter but always circling the same territory. This new life in the Kingdom of God isn’t about having correct theology or doing the right things. It is about intimacy. It is about knowing Him and being known. I don’t just want to know who God is to all Creation; or who He is to His enemies;—I want to know who He is with His beloved. The Biblical ideal for sexual intimacy is the verb “to know”. Adam knew Eve and she conceived. Not to make our relationship with God weird or anything, but the notion of an exclusive and enthralling romance that conceives new life is the picture that we’re given. Don’t blame me, blame Song of Songs.

The moment I veer wildly off-track, however, is the moment that the circumstance or problem takes preeminence over my intimacy with God;—when I vacate our dynamic of “I am my beloved’s and he is mine”. In that instant, I begin to worship my problems; mesmerized by all their complexities; lingering in their attendant anxieties. I go on and on about them with purple prose and then flatter the Lord with a few niceties and wonder why He seems so far away and disinterested. It never even occurs to me that I may have wounded Him with my inconstancy.

Intimacy is never about procurement; even of good, altruistic things that would be of benefit to others. Feigning intimacy in order to obtain something from another person is seduction. Seduction always involves deceit about the intentions of the heart. But my Beloved isn’t after feigned intimacy. He isn’t going to enable me to play the part of a spiritual gold digger, no matter how good the things that I am after are. He wants to be loved as I want to be loved. Genuinely. Unreservedly. He longs to reveal the hidden things of His personality to the one who sees His beauty and delights in Him. He’s wants an intimacy that conceives and brings forth new life. He’s just waiting for me to want it too.

A version of this article was published in the Sept/Oct edition of live magazine. Check them out here.