Notes from Manresa, prt. 3

3:39 pm.  Tired, but sleep is not coming.  The noise of my fan seems like a violent insult over the thick blanket of silence in this place.  Right now I cannot imagine three days of this.  I just want something – anything – to do.  I want to go home.

4:08 pm.  Feels like detox.  Finally gave in and cued up Rich Mullins’ A Liturgy, A Legacy, and A Ragamuffin Band.  Am I praying now?  Right here, in these thoughts of dread and burden?  What could/does God want me to know right now?  According to Rich, at this instant, “Peace of Christ to you.”

I’ve been here less than five hours, but consumed already by thoughts of my family.  Starting to feel very hungry, as I ate a light lunch because I grabbed food on my way here.

Why do I tire of this God thing?  Others can worship for countless hours, but I get bored and sick of it.  I think I can’t maintain anything very long that isn’t hopelessly cerebral.

I want to go home.  I’d rather be anywhere than here.  If I were to get in the car and drive home, I know what I’d be driving to.  But what would I be running from?  That is what I have to stay to find out.

4:28 pm.  Some people’s biggest problem is that no one loves them.  Most people’s biggest problem is that, though deeply loved, we often act as though we are alone and unloved.  That is me.  In my work with teenage girls, I have often found myself saying to them, “You are sitting now next to your father – the man who already loves you like no man on this earth will ever love you.  Why won’t you let him?”  The answer – deep wounds and hurts that prevent it.  Anger and resentment toward him for not being who she thought he was, and who she thinks she needs him to be.  These girls need to let go of their pain and disappointment, learn to let daddy be who he is, and accept the love he freely offers.  This is where they will find joy.

I am at this moment (and all moments) in the presence of the one who loves me more than anyone will ever love me.  But usually I can’t let him.  Why?  Because of deep wounds in me that prevent it.  I carry anger and resentment that God is not who I thought he was – who I think I need him to be.  I need to let go of my pain and disappointment, learn to let God be who he is, and accept the love he freely offers.  I know this is where I will find joy.  God, I am here this weekend praying for the healing of wounds that keep me from taking what you freely offer, and what I most need.