I think the rhythm of these posts is likely to be that of alternating between somewhat practical posts (with suggestions/challenges) and somewhat reflective posts addressing or raising questions that you might have about relating to God.
On the latter note, one of the more distinct challenges many of us face has to do with wondering exactly who it is that we’re relating to and how do we do this relating with Someone who is not physically present (in any usual sense). That’s what I want to explore today.
So, how do I relate to God, in theory the most important relationship in my life, when God is not present with me in the physical sense that I am used to people being with me? I wonder if it would work to explore an extended metaphor: how it would compare to a man whose wife was off in a faraway place on some kind of long term mission that took her away from the internet and phone lines. In this situation, the man would still experience himself to be in a very real relationship in spite of his wife’s absence. He would think of himself as being her husband, living often in that awareness. His actions would be affected by this. He would look after the plants that she left in the house. He might write her letters even if he were unsure when she would see them. He would read old, saved letters from when they were dating. If he listened to “their song” he might paradoxically sense her special nearness and more poignantly yearn for her.
This would not only be a private individual relationship, but it would have social reality. He would public identify himself as her husband, acting like a married man, wearing a ring. He would choose to be faithful to her and discuss his wife with those who knew her. He would imagine how she would feel about different things happening in his life, perhaps even asking his internalized memory of her what she thinks he should do. Though there may be nights when her absence was painful, most nights he could rest in the confidence of their relationship, not feeling alone in the world – knowing there was someone he was connected to who knew him, delighted in him and was thinking about him.
All these experiences of relationship would be enhanced whenever he heard word of her. A friend comes back from travels to the same country and shared about her work and her thoughts about her husband, perhaps passing on a letter. On birthdays and anniversaries, he would celebrate her and proclaim his love for her.
It’s possible that doubts could threaten this relationship. Some might suggest that she would have returned by now if she really did love him. Some might speculate that she had died. But the degree to which these doubts affected him would be based on the depth of his trust not on the reality of the relationship itself.
Finally, all of these points would describe the fairly simple, straightforward way in which the relationship continued. There might also be the occasional, unexplainable, moments of deeply sensing her presence. Or of a rare gift arriving in the mail on the exact day that encouragement was so badly needed.
Sometimes, I think, some of us are afraid that as Christians we’re living out some strange pretence or group delusion when we talk about being in relationship with God. I wonder if that is just a result of drawing too firm of a line between a relationship with someone physically present and someone who is not (again – in the usual sense of the word). Experientially and, I would suggest, in reality, we are quite capable of relationship with some who is “not there.” What is required is trust. Maybe that is the essence of what makes us spiritual beings.
7 Comments
Great thoughts Walter, but as always, I’m left with questions.
I follow and agree with the metaphor of a distance spouse, and the importance of trust, but I have one hang up where I see a potential hole.
If I were to meet a young man from Toledo on the internet and begin a relationship with him… If we were to exchange emails or letters, pictures, maybe even talk on the phone and our relationship grew… Perhaps we even have mutual friends who know us both well and introduced us over the internet… If I were to “fall in love” with him, having never met him physically, would you say this could be the basis of a healthy relationship? I could be wrong, but it seems like a very important part of a developing relationship would be lacking. I don’t think long-distance relationships are always failures, or anything like that, but I do think physical presence and contact is important in deepening relationships. And if it were me in the internet scenerio, I would always be wondering whether I was being dupped by some crazy internet stalker who was only pretending to be who he said he was.
My point is that the husband and wife you describe were once present in the physical way we are used to, and then she left. His trust and faith is based on what he experienced with her present to him. I understand that God is present to us in many ways, even more significant ways perhaps, than our human relationships…. but I get stuck wondering not about the realness of pre-existing relationships, (I maintain lots of relationships with SSU people I no longer am physically present with) but the way in which non-existing ones begin to grow without the same physical presence. And none of us, I think, have met God physically in the way we meet other people, so the context of a pre-existing relationship might work for, say the disciples after Jesus ascended, but does it still work for us today?
I hope all that came across clearly.
I appreciate, as you point out, the limits of the metaphor. The difference, I think, is that a human relationship is meant to have a physically present aspect. Our relationship with God is meant to be a spiritual relationship only (though I don’t mean to suggest that our bodies are not somehow participants in this spiritual relationship but that gets into layers too deep for the present discussion). The metaphor points to how a spiritual relationship (which is one way of referring to the kind of real relationship one has with someone not physically present) is not that unusual of a concept for us. Emotionally, we might grieve that our relationship with God does not have the “substance” of a human relationship, but logically, this is not a shortcoming but is in the nature of what a relationship with a spiritual being means.
What strikes me is this idea of “in the normal sense.”
A childhood mishap left me with a chipped tooth. the first few months I would inspect it and poke at it with my tongue. As time went on however I became accustomed to this new “normal.”
Our bodily nature tends to focus our attention us on our physical context. (our here and now)
Our comfort with an alternate sense of presence (letters, phone calls, internet, et al) hinges, I think, on our self-confidence and our confidence in the sincerity of the other person.
If we trust our own insights and ability to judge well the congruity of others’ thoughts and actions and have every reason to trust the other person, any contact from them is understood in that context.
Even if it is merely the promise that they will be to us who they said they would be. ( Be it God, absent mate, or internet Telodian)
“Internet Telodian”? If I hear you correctly, I like your point. We are biased toward the physical, but trust in the person we’re relating to combined with self-confidence enables us to overcome this bias? Question – is the bias ‘built-in’? Or is it an anti-spiritual bias of our modern times?
I’m intrigued by this notion that trust (or lack of) in any relationship hinges not only on our confidence in the other person’s fidelity, honesty, etc. but self-confidence as well. Perhaps a lack of trust in God being who he says he is has some root in doubting our own instincts. I sometimes find myself doubting my own trust of God for fear of being ‘duped’. I can’t answer Walter’s question, but I do think my postmodern context has certainly contributed to my struggles to trust what I think I know, since so often what I think I know is proved untrue.
Late entry here… I like the brief postmodern reference there Ashley; to continue Walter’s analogy, I felt for a long time that lots of people, plus a large and confusing book, were telling me what my distant friend was like. Plenty of them were really confident in the knowledge of their friend, but their opinions of him varied wildly. This was the basis of my ‘knowing’ him and having a relationship with him. I was left to try and get my own personal experience of him, but it was of course filtered through my understanding of the book, and how much I trusted what other people were telling me about him.
It’s kind of like we’re all at school doing a project on far-away-land, and the teacher says, “Right, there’s this bloke Jesus who comes from far far-away-land (actually he’s the ONLY bloke there), and we’re all going to be his penfriends. Read this book about him if you want to get to know him, because he’s extremely unlikely to write back.” Everybody starts a ‘relationship’ with this bloke, but they all end up with a very different understanding, and experience of him. The more confident (imaginative?) ones say, “He’s so nice and loving (see, it says so in the book)” but others say, “Well I know he’s supposed to be nice, but it’s kind of more like hard work than ‘friendship’ to be honest.” Others say he wants to kill gays, others say he’s not really there, etc. etc. You get the idea.
My point is this: whereas Modern folk were happier to be told what their new friend was like and go from there, Postmodern folk seem to need something more to go on. I am no longer scared of being duped – I’ve been duped so many times now that I am left with almost zero confidence that I know anything concrete about God at all. But it feels much better than the outrageous confidence I used to have, and ironically, I think I have a ‘better’ relationship with him now than ever before, even though I’d struggle to tell you what that relationship consisted of. Ho hum.
I appriciate what every one is saying . Trust in someone you can’t see is hard.I remember screaming at the ceiling saying it is not enough what I am told about you , what I know about you ,what I read about you. I want to know and feel your real physical presence.I need to know you are real.Because my experience of God just wasn’t cutting it It was not making a change in my pain and struggles.I can’t say any thing happened ,but after a time ,my friend began initiating contact with me,So to speak.I remember at a prayer time in Lewiston,a bunch of us were in a circle praying . I felt someones arm touch my shoulder and arm ,flesh apon flesh . I remember thinking,that person is aweful bold to get so close, it was a big circle and we were not that crowded . I opened my eyes to look at the person and give them an eye of disapproval.There
was no one there,and I could still feel the arm. My point is that some way and some how according to our needs and language with God ,he initiates.He makes his presence known.This is my experience and he has increased the many ways he makes himself known to me.
of course I continue to scream out to him in various ways ,but he always makes
the first move of coming into my world,slowly building my trust in him.