Today is a bit of a difficult blog to write, especially because I don’t even know what the conclusion could possibly be. This one is coming from the heart and is a bit deeper than my past few posts to do with fashion and nails…but all play and no depth makes me a dull girl. So here it goes…
I am not in a good space with God. I don’t know what religion you may be, but I’m sure whatever it may be, if you have a serious relationship with your chosen deity, you have been sure to butt heads at some stage or another.
I am butting heads with God because of me, not because of Him. It wasn’t that I prayed for someone to be cured from cancer and He did not answer the way I wanted Him to, neither did I want something that I didn’t get (well, not specifically), neither did something happen that shook my world to its core. I am not really talking to God because, right now, I feel that I have no right to stand before Him and talk to Him about anything. Christians will easily tell you the same rhyme: You don’t have a right to stand before God on any day, but because you have been sanctified through His blood, no matter what you have done or been through…blah blah blah… I honestly don’t want to hear it.
I know the theory. For every problem you may face, I can give you the typical Christianese answer. It will be genuine. It will be right. It will be what you need. It will be the answer you need. I know the exact answer to give myself right now about where I am, why I am where I am and what to do to get out of the place I am right now and even though I have the answers I need, I just don’t want answers right now.
My current conflict has a few personal issues interlaced, which I am not going to share with the world and give a reason for stone-throwers to launch their ammo.
My other, fundamental issue is that: I can’t go to church. There – I said it. I cannot go to church. I find it to be a waste of time.
**Gasps all around**
I am up every morning at 4h30 when I go to gym, or 5h00 when I don’t. From dusk till at least 22h00 I am busy with any one of the following: bible study; Kian; gym; Kian; work, Kian; work; work; work; Kian; Kian; Kian; getting ready for work; getting Kian ready; Kian, Kian, Kian; budgeting; meal prep; washing bottles; making bottles; shit – we need to buy Similac (who sells Similac 9pm on a Tuesday night?); playing ball with Kian; watching Kian play ball; watching Kian ride his bike; work, work, work; blog; social media post; blog; work, work, more work’ another report; the house; the domestic worker must get paid; the gardener must come again; work; meeting; consultation; wax – I need to wax before I turn into a Yeti and on that note, nails – I need to do nails before I can’t sit too close to people in consultations; wash hair; work; work; work; eat; pee – no that can wait; work; bladder infection – I should have peed when I needed to; ok to the Dr; I need meds, because I can’t afford to have a sick day; oh no – Kian is sick; take Kian to the Dr; collect prescriptions; when last did I feed the dogs; do the dogs still have food (who sells dog food 9pm on a Wednesday night); friends – I have friends – I need to keep my friends, so let me go do something with my friends.
In the above list, did you once note any mention of my amazing husband? No? Because he is busy with the exact same things or a similar version thereof; and finally, on a Sunday morning, all I want to do is go for a relaxing breakfast with my family. I don’t want to rush anywhere. I don’t want to wake up early for anything. I don’t want to have the same fight with Kian that I have every single morning: hurry, hurry, hurry, we can’t play now, we can’t do this now, we can’t do that now, hurry, eat your breakfast, Kiaaaaannnnn!!!!
I can’t do that six to seven days a week. I can’t be the monster mom who is always in a hurry.
When we finally do get to church, it’s either me or Vaughn running around after Kian. We don’t get the message or get to enjoy the worship. I don’t do the Mommy Rooms because that is a glorified tea-party where you can at least say that you were at church for your conscience or to tell other people that you were at church, even though you heard absolutely nothing.
I am sure that there are people out there who have this routine down. Who know how to handle family time, marriage and a two-year-old all while singing How Great is Our God.
I’m not that woman. I’m not that Christian.
(Yes, I know, don’t fit God into your life, fit your life into your religion…I know)
I have always been one to believe that Christianity is a relationship, not a religion.
I have overcome my greatest spiritual battles in front of the TV (War Room) or YouTube (Elevation Worship; Bishop T D Jakes) and in my car (Casting Crowns) and alone at home, when I have begged God for answers or breakthroughs, and on a plane, when I was begging God for the exact same thing, or over a glass of wine with a friend, or an early morning conversation with my mom, or in Botswana around a campfire. Not in church. Not in a cell group. Not in a prayer warrior camp.
I think maybe, firstly, I need to sort out those personal issues and then…
I need to realise that, as each relationship is different, maybe my relationship with God is different to your relationship with God. Maybe the fact that I’m not a church-goer, and that I don’t intend on raising my son as a church-goer but rather a God-follower, does not make me any less of a Christian than you.
Maybe when I make peace with this fact, which is so different from how I was raised, I can be myself and face God again and we can talk about how our relationship will work when we do daily dates instead of a weekly routine check-in.