By Mark Azzara
My Dear Friend,
Last week I suggested that you take time to hear God tell you good things about yourself. I recently was reminded to take my own advice.
Jason Gray was the artist at a Christian coffeehouse earlier this month. As always he packed the house and his concert became sort of a sing-along because so many in the audience know his lyrics by heart. What they could not anticipate but have come to expect is his commentary on living the Christian life.
Jason blew me away when he said, “The hardest thing is to allow yourself to be loved by God.” I’ve written a lot lately (including last week) about coming closer to God because it’s our most essential need. Nevertheless, Jason’s words hit me hard because I don’t yet fully comprehend the depth of that truth.
Letting God love me isn’t a narcissistic exercise. If I don’t hear the truth about myself spoken in love then how will I ever understand the truth of who you are?
How well do I really enter into God’s loving presence? Often the answer is “Not very.” I pray every morning but prayer is still too much a monologue — my praising God, asking him for stuff, yielding to his will.
Don’t get me wrong. All of that is good. In fact, it’s essential. But the most important part of prayer, when I really get down to it, is silence. After decades of trying I’m now at the point where I can imperfectly recognize and stifle the distractions in my head so that my heart’s focus is on God.
Even praise can be a distraction because our praise inadequately expresses this truth. Even asking God to meet our most pressing needs can be a distraction because God knows our needs better than we do. And our greatest need is to be in his presence.
Saint Augustine once said, “God is nearer to us than we are to ourselves.” That statement makes me a little nervous because it means God knows me better than I know myself. He sees all my faults, all my shortcomings, all my mistakes, all my …
That list focuses on the negatives. When I think about God I almost automatically focus on how I fail to measure up to his standards. But God also sees the good in me, and he wants me to come into his presence so that he can reveal that goodness to me, express how much he values me, and reassure me that his love for me is eternal, regardless of whether I screw up or act like an angel.
I am not accustomed to hearing good things about myself. I have received a few small accolades for stories that I’ve written, and occasional compliments for things I’ve said or done, but my tendency is to consider such praise to be the exception that proves the rule that I’m more likely to screw up and fail, which translates into the feeling that I’m not really lovable.
That’s what Jason meant when he said it’s hard to allow yourself to be loved by God. It’s one example of how the Lord’s thoughts and ways are so vastly different from ours (Isaiah 55:8-9). I can intellectualize his love but to actually sit still and let him love me? Oooh, that’s a totally different matter — especially when he does so through another human being. Jason told the story of how, after confessing his own weaknesses to a male friend, that friend hugged him for two minutes. At first Jason was freaked out but by the end of those two minutes he was weeping.
I am not writing this to make you feel uncomfortable. On the contrary. As I’ve gravitated toward silence and asked God to bring me closer to him I’ve found extraordinary comfort in his presence. I’m writing this because I want you to find that same kind of comfort from the same God who loves us both.
To rephrase my suggestion from last week, I hope you’ll consider taking the time to sit quietly, trying as best you can to ignore the distractions, and ask God to be there. Period. No agenda, no criticism, no praise. Just ask God to be there and see what happens.
Jason offered a hint of what might happen. We bring our real selves, all our brokenness, to God because “the broken places are where the light gets in.”
All God’s blessings – Mark
