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Paul stood in front of the Areopagus and said, "Athenians, I see how careful you are in your religious observances. As I traveled through the city, looking at the objects of your worship, I found an altar with the inscription, 'To an unknown god.' What you worship as unknown, I proclaim to you. The One who made the world and everything in it — the Ruler of heaven and earth, does not dwell in shrines built by human hands, nor dine on meals delivered by human hands; as if God needs anything — the One who
gives life and breath to all things!
"From one ancestor the Creator brought forth all the nations that inhabit the whole earth, and allotted the times and places they would live, so that they would search for Him; and in seeking, find — for God is near to every one of us. 'In Him we live and move and have our being'; as even some of your own poets have said, 'For we too are God's offspring.'
~ The Acts of the Apostles, 17:22-28
A friend of mine, whom I will call "Phil," has a loved one who doesn't believe in God — which makes Phil sad, and deeply concerned. In his own walk of faith he has found great comfort and strength in following the Path of Christ. Phil cannot imagine a life lived any other way.
To those of us who believe, the idea of living without the Light of the World seems impossible. A shadow existence. Extraordinary. Sad.
And so Phil is seeking to convince someone dear to his heart that — as Paul told the Athenians, "God is near to every one of us." It is not an easy task.
Imagine if you were in his shoes.
How would you convince another that there is a Ruler of the Universe, that there is meaning to our lives beyond what is apparent to our human eyes? What can we say to help these folks come to know the Beloved? We don't even have a common language — there are no shared concepts. The apostle Paul had an advantage over us: at least the Athenians believed in something.
To doubt — or deny — God's existence strikes most of us as strange and unnatural. It is certainly rare: nearly 85% of the American population professes a belief in some sort of higher power. Agnostics and atheists are in a clear minority: they are "the aliens among us."
But I wonder.
Are they really all that unique? Are they truly different from you and me — or are they simply more honest?
What does it mean to "believe"? What do we have "faith" in?
Does being faithful mean that we never have doubts? Does a "good Christian" never question why things happen as they do, where we go next, and Who is out there?
A lovely young woman dies after a long and dreadful battle with leukemia, leaving behind a grieving husband and three young sons. We beseeched the Holy One up one side and down the other to ease her suffering, to spare her life — to no avail. How does that make you feel?
It makes me feel terrible. My prayers are often sprinkled with tears — and sometimes with shouts: I've told God more than once that I don't like the way Somebody is doing some things. But I still pray. I still have faith and hope.
We cry, we argue, we get angry, and sometimes we doubt. Yet believers make our peace with the way things turn out; we hold on to our faith — sometimes only by our fingernails. But what about those who do not believe? How can we answer them when they say, "Your prayers don't work. There is no God. Why do you bother?"
It has been said that prayer doesn't change circumstances, it changes people. By that I think it is meant that we are changed in our hearts and our minds by the practice of prayer — we find peace and reassurance simply (!?) by having a conversation with God about how the world is going. That's certainly true — and it is also true that I have seen miracles of healing and hope that I attribute to the power of prayer.
But that does bring up an important question about prayer, and about who God is, and about why some folks do not believe.
God has been called "the Giver of Good Gifts" — a fitting name for the One who designed this green and pleasant world. But how do we interpret that in our life of faith, and how do we convey that to others? Does it appear as if God is a Celestial Fairy Godmother who grants our wishes? It may very well seem that way when our prayers are simply pious-sounding "shopping lists" of needs and desires. Would a visitor, listening to the Prayers of the People, know that we trust our God: that we believe in a Loving One who wants the best for us and can be relied upon when times are hard?
God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.
Therefore we will not fear, though the earth should change,
though the mountains shake in the heart of the sea;
though its waters roar and foam,
though the mountains tremble with its tumult. (Psalm 46:1-3)
If our prayers are not answered — to our satisfaction, that is: it isn't that they aren't answered, it is that they are not granted. Still, to outside appearances, it can appear that our prayers have no effect — how then, can we convince others that there is Someone listening? How do we proclaim a God who can be known and understood?
How can we speak of what is beyond all naming?
Maybe we don't have to say anything. Perhaps this is one of the times when we should — as one of my seminary professors often advised, "Shut up and get out of the way."
God's fingerprints are on the rocks, the trees, and in the patterns of the clouds. God's voice is in the gentle hum of the bees as they caresses the apple blossoms, and in the waves that tickle the starfish in the tide pools. God's joy is in the leaping dolphin, the singing bird, the laughing child.
We see and hear and smell and taste and touch these things — and our spirits soar, our hearts rejoice. We feel alive: renewed in body and soul. We are filled with awe and gratitude. We see and understand in a whole new way; as the mystics say, "We know beyond knowing."
That doesn't happen by accident.
Although he and I are often in disagreement, in this Paul is right: In all times and all places the Holy One has left traces of Godself, so that we might seek and find Life and Joy unbounded.
And all people recognize these clues; we cannot ignore or overlook them — or the yearning they set off in our souls. The desire to locate the Source is in our blood and bones: we long to give thanks and praise. We want to know Who to thank.
It is then, after the Holy One has done the talking, that we believers may speak. "This is God we worship: the source of the voice that resonates in the core of your being. The longing you feel — the pain and loneliness — is your heart beating against the bars that you have raised between yourself and the Lover of your soul."
It would seem that our task is to help them to identify the "unknown God."
From that point on there is nothing else for us to do — continuing to follow the Path of Christ is all that is needed. By living as the Lord taught us, we will show new believers that their faith is well-founded: that kindness and compassion, peace and goodwill, joy and generosity are not remote ideals, but present possibilities. (And that's not just for new believers, either!) When Christ lives in us and we in him — there is no room for doubt: God. Is. Good.
Virtual hugs and real-time blessings,
Deborah +
This Week's Suggested Spiritual Exercise: Where is it that you find it easy to find "God's fingerprints"? If you can, go to that place, listen to that music, be with that person, read that book at least once this week. If you cannot, spend at least ten minutes recalling how you feel when you are in that space.
Where are you least likely to find God's fingerprints? Start looking there with more determination and see what happens.
God is near to us — at all times, in all places — waiting to be recognized, longing to meet us, anxious to set us free from sadness and despair. Seek the Beloved and greet the Beloved with rejoicing. You are forgiven, loved, and free.
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