A - Z Challenge: Q - Questions

The older I get, the less I know. 

I could leave this blog post there, actually, as that's the upshot of this little entry. You can stop reading if you want. Alternatively, stick around if you feel you might have a 'Me too' moment; perhaps you too have begun to have more questions than answers when it comes to things of faith. 

I used to be so sure! Back in the days of my youth, when I went away to university for the first time after a few years of church youth groups (back then it was Pathfinders and CYFA - anyone go back that far?) things were pretty straightforward. My home church put me in touch with some people at a church in my university town so I transitioned seamlessly between two churches of the same ilk, I suppose. After university I went to work for that church, so more of the same. 

And then, blah blah, the missing years, the distant years, busy years, baby years, back to the church where I started out. Older, but not much wiser. 

Still kidding myself that I had answers. 

Then...recent years... I think it safe to say, life has been dark. Covid was a mammoth disruptor and, as my P post indicated, I've only just made it back into the church fold, and I'm not the same person that I was. I look back at some of the posts I've written on this blog and while in some of them I find comfort, sometimes challenge, sometimes even a strange and poignant 'Me too' moment with the me of years ago, quite often I marvel at the naivety and platitudes of my former self. 

Without going on forever, the tip of my huge Question iceberg looks like this: 

• if God loves us, why doesn't he stop bad things from happening? 
• if God is with us always, where is he when these things do happen? 
• if God is a strong tower providing shelter under his wings (and all those mixed metaphors), how come there are times in life when there is no respite, no safe place?
• when we need him, how come it feels as if God doesn't show up? 
• when we know that God can answer prayer, why doesn't he?

These questions have overwhelmed me. I've worried that there have been more negatives than positives - that so much of the church thing is built on platitudes and glib answers that only stand when they're unchallenged by any strong wind. I've genuinely wondered if I've lost my faith. 

The truth is, unanswered prayer is only a problem if you have faith. And it is a problem for me. 

I just don't know the answer. Where was God when life went horribly wrong? When I cried out for him, why was it that he seemed not to be there in any way that was meaningful to me? 

Nope, I'm still drawing a blank. A wise friend of mine points to the book of Job, where, when poor Job finally gets the chance to ask God what it was all about, instead of ranting and shouting and demanding answers, he just says, 'I'm sorry, I didn't understand'. 

Well, I don't understand either. Does it matter? Yes, and no. I have so many questions - I've been hurt and disappointed and angry with God and I've such a list of things I want him to explain me. Maybe when I get there I will get a chance to ask? Or, maybe when I get there it won't matter any more. Maybe I'll suddenly see the vastness and perfection of God's Plan and it all falls into place. Maybe when I get there I will be so overwhelmed and in awe that my gripes no longer matter. After all, his ways are not my ways; his thoughts not my thoughts.

I don't know. I would love to understand, because that's the way my mind works. I am frustrated when I don't get it. I am a hoarder of knowledge, a chronic accumulator of ideas and facts and thoughts and concepts. When I am at a loss I feel unbalanced and unsafe; when there are no books or people or Google searches to ask. Even AI has nothing to contribute here. Wiser people than me have considered this and have come to no safe conclusions.  There are no answers to be had, are there?

But something changed. Rather than losing my faith, I realised that I've lost many of the trappings, much of the ballast which has surrounded my faith. It is as if the training wheels have fallen off way before I was ready but miraculously the bike keeps on going. I have enough balance, even if it feels unsteady. 

Here's what I'm left with:

• Jesus.

As Christmas approaches, I find some songs hard to sing. The ones that make it sound easy, this Christian life, the ones where prayers are always answered (don't give me 'Yes, no or not yet'!), the ones that make it sound as if there is always light at the end of the tunnel, that God will always make it better. I don't know that he will, this side of the pearly gates. And yet, Jesus. 

So that's it. There's no startling piece of wisdom or even a coherent conclusion to this post. I don't know anything that will help if there's someone out there needing help. I have way more questions than answers. But my faith seems a little stronger for having shed the veneers that don't work. A little purer, maybe. 

If someone came to me with the awfulness of life and asked for something that might help, I do not know what I would say, but I do know, now, what I wouldn't say. I might share that I don't know either, but somehow I find that not knowing doesn't matter as much as it did. 

A - Z Challenge: P - People

Well, this could have gone several different ways. Given that my blog productivity moves at the pace of a glacier, if I say that it's taken me longer than usual to decide what to write about for the letter P, you'll understand the magnitude of my dilemma. I had a more than a few ideas (P for prolific). Here are the runners and riders:

P for Pain. Hmm. People wiser than me have not got to the bottom of this one. Theologians and philosophers have mulled it over but I've not heard of anyone who has come to any conclusions that actually help the average, normal person who wants to understand why there is so much sadness around. On the road I live in (and it's small) in recent times there have been frightening diagnoses, bereavements, mental health issues, chronic illness, broken marriages, accidents, devastating family news, violence and loneliness. Should I attempt to explore why God lets this happen? 

P for Prayer. Bit like the last one. Where is God when I need him? When I know that he CAN answer prayer, why doesn't he? Is there any point?

P for Purr. One cat post in an alphabet is probably enough for the average person, but I was tempted to mention once again what a delight and comfort my furry family members are. Bean is my special cat. Yes, I love all three, but Bean is the one who has chosen me, and when she curls up in the crook of my arm or on my chest and purrs (as she is right now), I purr back.

P for Progress. Should I ramble on into the ether about the fact that I am doing a bit better these days - getting out and about a bit more after the hermit-like retreat of the last few years? 

P for Painting. In an effort to increase my creativity levels, I decided this year to do something creative every day. This could be writing, doodling, gardening, or indeed, painting. I got myself a water colour set and quickly became frustrated that I couldn't make things look how I wanted them to, and then bought a cheap set of acrylics that seem to be more my thing. I like painting pebbles. P for Pebbles! 

There were more. P is a good letter for inspiration, it seems, and so my P was held up while I vacillated. 

Until today. Today I went back to church, for the second time since pre-covid days. Steady on. 

There are a number of reasons why I haven't been, not all of which I can go into, but suffice it to say that there have been times when I would not have been able to cope with lots of people asking me how I was, how things were, where I've been etc. Habits change, and one of my daughters is now away at university, the other took on a voluntary job teaching swimming on Sunday mornings and my husband works Sundays now to allow him to take time off in the week. Result - not been to church in years, and the longer I was away, the harder it felt to go back. I do want to say that I never thought I'd actually left church, still read the newsletters, felt as if it was my church; it was just the actual going on a Sunday morning that was problematic. P for problem. 

I was quite nervous walking down the road this morning. 

Would I still feel as if I belonged? Would I be left too far behind? Had I been forgotten? Would I still know anybody? This building that I used to feel was home, a safe place: would it still feel that way? 

Oh, my word. What a gift God had for me this morning. Before I'd chosen a seat, a friend came over and invited me to sit with her. Someone on the row behind hugged me and told me how good it was to see me. We chatted as the band warmed up, at the start of the service. Someone waved extravagantly to attract my attention in the first song and gave me a huge smile. Another dear friend blew me a kiss as she came in late and walked past to a spare seat. Someone else winked, another did a double take when he saw me and grinned broadly. 

The sermon was about the promises of God. P for Promises. About God's faithfulness when his people are unfaithful. About his nearness, his patience (P for Patience) and his unfailing love. His willingness to seek us out and bring us home, to bering about restoration. It was about hope. Exactly what I needed, having been lost in my own wilderness for what feels like a long time. 

Afterwards, I had given myself the option of sneaking out during the final hymn so that I wouldn't have to make conversation (and negotiate those awkward questions) if I didn't want to. And then when it got to that point, it turned out that the final hymn was one that was very special to me, with words that have given me hope to hold onto in recent years. When it was over, some people sought me out for hugs and said some lovely things to me. 

'How wonderful to see you!'

'I've been praying for you.'

'I'm so glad you came!'

For the first time in my life, I was one of the last few people to leave the church building. Never happened before. I even have plans! P for plans! I am meeting a friend for coffee on Tuesday, and another on Thursday, and next week another two for a catch up over a glass of wine one evening. You know that feeling where you see someone you haven't seen in years and it's exactly as if you've never been apart? That. 

I walked home in the cold drizzle with a smile on my face, and smiles have been in short supply for quite a while. 

So, this post is about people. P for People. It's also about prayer, about pain, about peace, about God's presence, about a sense of place, and about progress, but most of all it's about people. 

The people of God, and my people.