I’ve been attempting to put words to something from my childhood that is subtle but profound, and very difficult to articulate. While deeply personal, I share it for the sake of anyone who has ever wrestled with the God of their experience.
I’ve often said that God has been calling me, drawing me, my whole life. When I was eight, I thought I’d be a nun—my lens was colored by Catholicism, the religion of my childhood. A few years later, I recall my mother deriding the notion of women being considered for ordination in the Anglican church. I secretly thought it was pretty cool.
The god of my childhood was most unpleasant. This god was unbearable, crushing, and soul destroying. I remember once lashing out as a young child, trying to hit this god I was so mad at. Sounds pathetic I know, to hit at the air. It was pathetic… and futile. A desperate attempt to stop the yuck—to let this god know that I didn’t like how he operates.
I also lived on the edge of a state forest. A magical place made up of spy missions, tracking escaped circus animals, learning Morse code, studying every flag, country and capital city in the world (so I could be a better spy), building secret cubby houses, and walking. I walked many solitary kilometres as a child. I would walk and explore, then sit and ponder. Always an old person. When I stepped outside, it was as though I’d been plugged into an electrical socket, such is the connection I have with the ancient One, particularly when in nature.
I left home—and the god of my home— when I was sixteen. A Catholic girl escaping the constricting box she’s been in her entire life. I planned it when I was twelve and waited… I lived hard—stupidly actually—but the ancient One called me every day. It wooed me, loved me, drew me. When I viewed the night stars It forgave me. When I rejected the god of my childhood, It soothed me. That god clung tenaciously, but I eventually scrubbed him from my life and It celebrated with me. When I questioned life, It spoke Truth to the depth of my being, sending sunsets, glistening dew and twittering birds. Two beings meeting, connecting: It made space for me.
As of four days ago I realised that “god” has not been calling me my entire life. The ancient One has. The nameless One who compels me toward It. This One is beautiful, wise and loving. Perhaps I should not call It “god.” For I now realise that this Something was not the same as the god imposed upon me as a child. They are two beings—two vastly different beings. One is unnameable, the other a construct. A small point of note for some perhaps, though important to me.
Thoughts of childhood.
Exploring nuances.
Semantics to some, but not to me.
Sit in stillness for a time. Let your mind flit through the years. Think about the One who calls you, who draws you: the nameless One. What is this One like? What is the most affirming thing the ancient One could say to you?
Is this One the same being as the “God” you serve or see others serve? How might your view of God be shaped by your experiences with your father, your mother, your pastor, your childhood, or your culture?
Which being, if any, would you choose to dance through life with?
It’s not meant to be an intellectual thing, more of a gut thing… something to ponder…
