An Open Letter to God

Hi God,

Driving along the Interstate one day, doing nothing particularly blessed or interesting or special at the time, I embraced a promise that I have been struggling to receive. This has been a difficult season in my life, sometimes for reasons even I do not understand, yet I know your love is strong, your intentions are good, and your joy and mercy will prevail.

You know in the last several years I have experienced strange variations of the so-called dark night of the soul, each time so unique in the way that I was aware of your absence and aware or unaware of your presence. I know that dark nights are not all that rare, and I'd figured each person's experiences are unique to them, but I never dreamt that one person could have such varied experiences under a common category. This year, the theme has been a sense of your absence and in the most bizarre way to me yet; with it came a deep sense, somewhere in me that I can't identify, in which I - thought, believed, heard, understood? - 'This' is important. This is not eternal; you will feel differently again. It is part, and only part, of the journey. Continue on it.



I had never been aware of your "distant presence" before. In the past, we have wrestled. I would try to pin you down and before I knew it you'd wriggle free, amorphous and magnificent as ever. You never seemed to want to pin me. You took more joy in the movement, the tumbling, the energy. Even when I was stubborn and doubtful and angry, you loved me; loved that I brought my questions and frustrations to you.

Later on, we wrestled again, but instead of actively participating, I broke away, wandered off. I didn't want to fight anymore. Unfortunately, it wasn't just that I didn't want to fight you, but also that I didn't want to fight for you. And while at the time I occasionally recreated the scene in my mind to show you as the one who walked out, it became clearer to me that, even in my longing for you and recent growth in you, it had been me who had to get away. It was soon after something of a spiritual transformation, simple and yet significant, and perhaps I was scared, or resistant, or even unsure that what I had discovered was real. And even when I thought I had dug myself into a pit, you reached in and swept me up into your arms. All I had to do was look up. There you were.

But this time, it has felt like you have withdrawn from me, even without truly abandoning me, and I still don't really know why.

Have you left this time? Or am I recreating the scene in my mind that way to spare myself the truth that I have strayed again? I have so many questions, and I find it difficult to bring them to you when I can't seem to tell where you are. I don't know how you will come back to me, or how I will come back to you, or why I'm in the midst of a dark night even as I keep finding myself to be where I ought to be.

And while I knew when this experience began that this is indeed part of the journey, part of what I must learn, whether so that I can do the work you would have me do or simply so that I can be the soul you intend for me to be - I think I "know" it now. Thank you.

Looking forward to this being more of a dialogue again. Wrestling match would suffice as well.

With love,
Kimmery