Being honest with God even if this involves ranting and raving against him!
The below is an extract from my book Nine Steps to Well-Being: A Spiritual Guide
for Disconnected Christians and Other Questioning Journeyers. I was also
interviewed for the BBC Wales religious programme ‘All Things Considered’
series on BBC Radio Wales to be broadcast today Sunday, 6th April
9.03am. It will be repeated on Thursday, 10th April at 5.30
am.
Ways to listen can be found here:
Ways to listen can be found here:
A download on their podcast is available here:
“My first big lesson in the importance of honestly engaging with God,
came when I was nineteen years old, hitch-hiking through France two or three
months after my conversion experience. It is a story I’d like to tell in some
detail, given the many things it taught me.
I had been living in a squat
in the south of France with a bunch of unemployed and homeless people. In a fit
of generosity and putting my trust in God to supply my needs, I decided to give
all the money I had to the squatters and other beggars on the streets of
Avignon where I was staying. I then decided, on what I thought was also God’s instruction,
to hitch-hike back to Paris to reconcile with my French girlfriend, with whom I
had broken up a week or so previously.
What I didn’t reckon on was
the interminably slow progress I would make on the road to Paris. Three days
after I started, I think I had only travelled about forty kilometres of the
nearly 600-kilometre journey. In retrospect, it perhaps was not that
surprising. I was very unkempt, to say the least, and having been living in a
squat and sleeping rough, I would not have been very appealing as a passenger
to even the most sympathetic motorist. So, towards the end of the third day, I
was on the side of the road, praying like mad for a lift. Every car that came
toward me I shouted to the heavens: ‘Please make them stop!’ but, when I stuck
my thumb out, nothing happened.
By this time I also hadn’t
eaten for about twenty four hours at least. In the first day or so I came
across other hitch-hikers, who shared some of their food with me, but they had
long departed. By the third day, I was by myself with no money, no food and, of
course, desperate for a lift. Remember too, this was 1980, before mobile phones
were commonly available and there were no internet cafes to Skype or e-mail
home for help. As you can imagine, as time went on, my prayers became
increasingly desperate, frustrated and angry, but not so much with the car
drivers as with God. I started to feel outraged at his apparent neglect of me. I
had given practically all my worldly possessions to ‘the poor and needy’, in
trust and expectation that, in his love, he would supply my needs – and, I was
supposedly following his instructions to return to my girlfriend in Paris. The
problem was I had nothing to show for it, except an empty stomach, and being
hundreds of kilometres from my destination.
By the end of the third day, and
after seeing the dome of a church in the distance with a cross on top, I
started to shout at God, not just in my mind but, as I was alone, out loud. My prayer,
at this near breaking-point, went
like this:
Right, I am going to ask you to give me a lift – give
me a lift! (car shoots by). Right, I am going to ask you again to give me a
lift – give me a lift! (car shoots by, and so on).
After God knows how many cars shot by, I started another more extreme rant
which, although still shouting at God, also proclaimed his non-existence. I had
already prepared this rant in my mind, assuming a lift was not forthcoming. My prayer,
at this final breaking-point, and as the sun started to go down on the third
day, went like this:
The reason why you are not giving me a lift is because
you don’t f*****g exist! Look see! Give me a lift! (another car shoots by) –
you don’t f*****g exist!
Then, what I can only describe as a miracle happened. No, I didn’t get a
lift, but a series of events occurred that, in my eyes were, and are, much more
remarkable. After I had repeated the last prayer a number of times, I started
to get my anger out of my system and so calmed down a little. And, it was in
these quieter moments I heard, what I felt then and still recognise now, God
laughing at me. Not screaming at me, as I had just done to him, but chuckling,
completely unfazed by my shaking my fists and cursing. I experienced this laughter
as being very loving and knowing … well, he had seen it all before – countless
people across the generations ranting against him like this. But also I sensed,
in the nooks and crannies of my experience, that in his love for me, he was
telling me something about what would happen. And his telling went like this:
Look, my son, I am not giving you a lift tonight, but because
I love you, what I will do is fill you with good things which will make it
unimportant to you that you are staying here for now.
And these good things he duly did give to me, for I turned and looked
across the road, and saw the beginnings of one of the most beautiful sunsets I
had ever seen in my life. I crossed the road, walked about three or four
hundred metres to the Rhône river and sat by its bank, appreciating the view,
the wildlife, and the glorious changing colours of the sky. About half an hour
later I felt spiritually filled and completely new and was able to laugh with
God at my previous ranting and raving. Then, I said another prayer, which went
like this:
Sorry God for being like I was, and thank you so much
for all this beauty in your creation, and for the fact that I am now
spiritually full.
And then I added these lines:
But I am still very hungry. I don’t mind that much not
eating, given what has just happened to me, and in any case, we seem to be in
the middle of nowhere. But if you can find some food for me, I would really
like some now please.
I waited for a bit, and nothing appeared to happen, but this time I
didn’t care that much. So, I wandered off, not really sure where I was going
but vaguely looking for a place to sleep, as it was dusk by now. About five or
ten minutes later, at the most, I had walked through a small clump of trees
adjacent to the river, and came to a clearing.
To my complete surprise, the
clearing opened-up onto a rugby pitch with a small pre-fabricated-type building
which was presumably the rugby club house. By the building were about a dozen
or so people standing around a table full of food. I knew I didn’t have to ask
for any as the food was already earmarked for me! And sure enough, a French
woman, after seeing me come through the trees, walked toward me with both arms
full of baguettes and cheeses, insisting that I take them, otherwise, she said
in broken English, they would go to waste. Apparently, the rugby club had come
to the end of a function and the food was left over. I thanked the woman, took
the food and walked back among the trees to find a place to sleep, now feeling bowled
over by the wonderful presence of God in my life. The next morning, after about
a twenty minute wait, I was given a lift all the way to Paris.
What does this story teach us
about prayer? First, I can rant and rave at God – in fact I believe he wants me to rant and rave if that is
what I truly feel, otherwise we are in danger of vainly trying to deceive him.
God already knows my deepest angers and frustrations and that at least some of
these emotions get directed towards him. Therefore, nothing will be a shock to
God and I can’t take him by surprise by what I have to say to him. In addition,
as stated earlier, any pretence is ignored by God as he sees through us to our
deepest emotions even if we try to hide them from ourselves.
Second, however, when I ask or
demand in anger that he does things for me, they are unlikely to be done. This
is not so much because God refuses to give in to what is, in effect, a very
stroppy child; but more because what we want in these moments is often far from what we actually need. Being honestly
angry with God, certainly, is the best and only place to start when we begin to
speak to God, if that is what we genuinely feel, but it is not where we should
finish. My speaking to God must also come with an openness to engage with him
and listen to him as he responds to my anger in love, by turning his face to me
and honouring my honesty. Once this openness to listen and to receive his love
occurs, though, I start to become more ready to accept what is happening in my
life (even if this feels very hard and unfair) and acknowledge his authority
over me, despite life not going the way I want it to.
Third, I must again move into
an arena which is quiet and still; to that place I must at all times claim
before I first speak and listen to him. But once I have entered this place, I
can then experience his love first-hand. I can say sorry for where I was
previously and believe and trust in his love and forgiveness, as he prepares me
to receive things much richer and more beneficial than meeting my mere wants.
Finally, it is only in this place that I can give deep-felt thanks for all his
blessings to me and can dare to live out Jesus’ promise to his disciples (John
14:13) that I may ask for anything in
his name.”
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