C: I don’t feel Jesus in my heart today.
R: That’s OK. Sometimes we don’t.
C: Well, maybe he’s the one making it go ker-thump, ker-thump.
Had Easter dinner this afternoon with The Traditionals, a wonderful family who seemed to invite truly random people to their house. You could tell there was none of that dinner party, “Whom could we invite that would be stimulating company/get along with one another?” stuff. It was great, the hodge-podge. It was Christian hospitality. And the food, oh the food. You know it’s good eating when you have two kinds of potato casseroles.
Last night felt like some kind of Holy Saturday, dark night of the soul thing. R & I were awakened about 3:30 by a sound of unknown origin. First I thought it was one of the girls crying, then I thought it was C talking in her sleep… at one point I thought it was mating time for a neighborhood alley cat. (My second least favorite sound on the planet after leaf blowers.) Best we could tell, someone was outside on our street in the throes of either an heart-rending anguish or a psychotic break. Maybe both.
The voice stopped eventually and I drifted back to fitful sleep until some time later, when we heard a police helicopter overhead. R looked outside and saw a police car parked in front of our house. We tossed and turned for about an hour while the hunt continued, with even a canine unit called into service. My psyche decided to take that opportunity to imagine a crazed killer in our basement, lying in wait for the girls, and various other catastrophes that were All About Me. R, for his part, kept thinking about the sub-freezing temperatures and hoping that the rescue—for that’s what it probably was—would be successful. I’d say that R passed the Jesus test for the evening.
The inner catastrophizing got frantic enough that I tried something I’ve never tried before, though Senior Pastor swears by it. I began praying the Jesus Prayer: “Lord Jesus Christ, son of God, have mercy on me.” At first it actually raised the anxiety to a frantic pitch. Maybe I’ve never liked it because I’ve never resonated with the word mercy. If you have to pray for mercy, I’ve always reasoned, it’s either because a) you are so completely unlovable or “bad” that you’re in danger of God’s judgment or because b) God’s default position simply IS judgment unless we pray this prayer to coax Him [sic] away from the smite button. Neither a) nor b) is a central feature of my theology, to say the least, though it’s glommed onto me somewhere along the way. But whatever my quibbles with the prayer, gradually it calmed me, and I fell asleep.
R and I are both exhausted today from the night’s sleeplessness and the day’s celebration. Practicing resurrection while Good Friday is wailing outside your window is exhausting. We sang the Hallelujah Chorus, as we do every year. And like every other year, I choked up at the “forevers.” But this year the tears flowed freely. Something different, something deeper was happening.
“I want to know Christ,” writes Paul in Philippians 3, “and the power of the resurrection.” I think that’s what I was croaking out as I sang the “forevers” today. I want to believe that the power of Christ goes beyond the power of the story of Christ, even though I think the story of Christ is a story of unparalleled power. But like my little girl, I don’t feel “Jesus in my heart” very often, beyond the ker-thumps. But I want to. Wanting to know Christ as Paul describes, yet acknowledging that I don’t, is painful. It’s more painful than being content with things as they are—content with a narrative, a story, rather than a presence—but it’s essential to a mature faith, I suppose.
9 Responses to “doubt and faith on easter”
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beautiful.
Very powerful Reverendmother. I think when I get to the office tomorrow that I will write you a personal email to follow-up. But THANK YOU. I, too, wrestle with wanting more presence beyond just narrative. All. the. time. Spiritual growing pains, do you think?
i heard a story about the footwashing/communion at suburban presb. and i think perhaps you and C each/both saw/felt/touched/were touched by Jesus in that ritual. i hope you’ll write about that soon.
“If you have to pray for mercy, I’ve always reasoned, it’s either because a) you are so completely unlovable or “bad” that you’re in danger of God’s judgment or because b) God’s default position simply IS judgment unless we pray this prayer to coax Him [sic] away from the smite button.”
Ah! This was my favorite part of the post!
I love this post!
I want to know Christ as well; more now than I had a few months ago. I have been involved in church for most of my life, in one aspect or another. I have not been involved in a church for about 4 months now. Searching…pondering, really wanting to get it together for me. It takes time. I will not worry about the time thing, I suppose. I just know that in the end, I really want to know Christ.
Scary night. Have you found out yet what the story was behind the noises and the helicopter and such?
I use the Jesus Prayer when I’m in the MRI tube for 45 minutes at a time getting checked for whatever. This happens a couple times a year. 45 minutes of clanking and beeping and zapping noises.
Sometimes I think time in as place with unnerving noises that one can’t escape is a kind of hell. Having a mantra/prayer that focuses me away from the noises helps. I also sing spirituals in my head. Of course, thinking through “Sometimes I feel like a motherless child” or “Amazing Grace” has a tendency to get the “feeling sorry for myself” button pushed.
When we’re unnerved, whenever our comfort is taken away, whenever we feel disequalibrium, we reach for Jesus for comfort. When we remember to reach for Jesus at other times, then we’re starting to figure it all out, I think. Some days I’m better at that than others.
Peaceful rest as you get over the rigors of Holy Week!
I still don’t know what happened Saturday night; I’ve been meaning to call our
neighborhood busybodyneighborhood watch coordinator to see what she knows.C’s comment reminds me of a similar story I heard from a pastor friend, now retired and serving as a parish associate. His young daughter (now a pediatrician) of one of my former pastors was taking about Jesus with her family one evening at dinner. Something was said about “having Jesus in your heart.” Youngdaughter/now docter put her hand on her chest and remarked, “Oh! That’s who I hear walking around in there.”
This same pastor friend is currently undergoing aggressive chemo for an equally aggressive form of leukemia at MD Anderson. Please keep him in your prayers.
there was a time in my life when I very much needed someone to tell me that it was okay if I didn’t feel Jesus in my heart…nice job.