Jan Johnson - Enjoying the Presence of God: Discovering Intimacy with God in the Daily Rhythms of Life

I used to have dazzling quiet times. I sat on my bed, holding my four-part prayer notebook as if it were a cherished artifact. Pulling back the tab marked adoration, I peered at a list of forty words that described God and picked three to praise God for. Moving on to the tab marked confession, I mulled over another forty-word list of faults, especially those Id underlined in red: laziness and grouchiness. Racing on to thanksgiving, I skimmed a list of twenty items I felt thankful for, including friends, relatives, books, and to be especially spiritual God Himself.

At the bottom of the page, a stretching zinger challenged me: Thank God for one thing youve never thanked Him for before.

Finally, I had enough momentum to slide into home plate a list of requests I had kept for ten years: former students, weight control, missionary friends. It took quite a while to do this portion of the notebook, but when I finished, I felt as if Id covered the map with God.

My quiet time in those days was crisp and thorough, tight and structured. You would have expected this from me a Bible study leader, a throaty alto in the church choir, an armchair counselor to those who felt at odds with life. I was a doer in life even in my relationship with God.

In spite of my spiritual whiz-kid persona, I was crumbling and raging inside. I felt suffocated by the routine life of a stay-at-home mom, the impossibility of church work, and the dry ache of a vanishing marriage. I remember the day my quiet time died. After gathering all my devotional props, I settled into a terrible emptiness. I needed God as I had never needed Him before, but my regimented prayers were puny containers for my anguish. Hurling my prayer notebook across the room, I asked myself, How would I survive life without someone to love me? How could I connect with God so that no matter what happened to me, I would believe that God still loved me and valued me? What would replace these sterile lists so I could sink my teeth into a God who would satisfy my neediness?

As my ego props fell away ministry positions, marriage security I replaced my sterling quiet time with reading Glamour magazine. I found refuge in food and snacked all day. Appalled that my secret food compulsion was taking over, I slithered into a room with other losers like me a support group for compulsive eaters. When I said I was fine, they laughed and said, Right! So how are you really doing? My Christian facade, which I didnt know I had, cracked.

Over several years, these meetings schooled me in admitting the truth that I demanded perfection from myself and everyone around me. I saw that I had behaved as a Pharisee, the one who wants to get the right formula and do it right and fix everything and feel very wonderful.

But I found it difficult to forget about dazzling God and show Him my real self. Finally, as I meandered through the Psalms, I found comfort in their honest and gritty texture:

I sink in the miry depths,

where there is no foothold.

I have come into the deep waters;

the floods engulf me.

I am worn out calling for help;

my throat is parched.

My eyes fail,

looking for my God. (Psalm 69:2-3)

Were I as honest as the psalmist, Id have to admit that I had been mad at God why hadnt He fixed everything and put my life in order as Id wanted it? Could I admit to God that I felt I was a disappointment to Him, and He was a disappointment to me? In a moment of terror I did, and the sky didnt fall.

I still felt broken, but somehow hopeful. It seemed as if God were wringing all that self-sufficiency out of me and asking me to seek Him in whatever way He led me. He wasnt going to fix my life quickly, but He was going to mold my character. At the time, I couldnt see it, but God was showing me that He did not want me to be a can-do go-getter but one who becomes broken bread and poured out wine in the hands of Jesus Christ.

I began a journey that looks as though it will take my entire life: to relish being Gods much-loved child instead of trying to be wonderful; to accept my inability to control people and circumstances and surrender them to God. I switched roles: I chose to be the defeated prodigal son who came to himself instead of the dutiful older brother looking for rewards. I decided to head home to the Parent who loves me no matter what even when I fail.