Friend of God

How crucial it is not to demonize oneself or others for the breakdown of a relationship. The probability for regret is high. And nowhere do I feel a greater sense of “sigh” in my life than in past relationships.

To begin with, I believed that I had maintained my virginity well into my 20s, but in a franker analysis, it had gone amiss well before then. I’ve spent most of my life fearful, skeptical, and highly judgmental of men. 

Strangely though, I still idolized them. I put God-like standards and expectations on them. No one ever measured up, or even came close, so I just never bothered letting anyone in. My walls were high. Whoever he was to be, I subconsciously wanted him to be God for me; a Jesus incarnate, because that is what I was taught to expect and hold out for as a “good Christian girl.”

So I lived my life. Deeply desiring this “godly man,” but finding everyday men utter disappointments. “Nothing could possibly be that wrong with me,” I concluded. It was the failure of men to be men, surely. 

But I was wholly over generalizing. I fully recognize the unfair review I was dolling out on men. I was never given the right to judge so harshly. But what is judgement, but to bring a superior sense of self; a sickly protective and self-aggrandizing cocoon of self-righteousness. A self-righteousness I unconsciously prided myself on for too many years.

In a truer look, though, my judgement was actually a deep self-hatred and sense of abandonment by God. At the heart of my criticism against men was a conviction against God Himself.

God was guilty of not loving me well. God was guilty of not pursuing my heart. God was guilty of being emotionally distant. God was to blame.

The deep unmet longing and cry of my heart for love needed a scape goat. Men were just the outworked experience and reflection of an oppressive, distant, and manipulative God.

I desperately desired God, yet he was somehow deeply my enemy. And this incongruity, which I could not articulate during those years, had deep hooks in my mentality, permeating every relationship I pursued.

So much so, that my internal self-worth dropped to near unintelligible levels. I adulterated my heart because the God I claimed to believe in didn’t even notice me, I was convinced. I would goad Him to action with my calculated, yet naive whoring. And so I committed adultery, multiple times, in my mid to late 20s, alongside a number of lead-ons and flings. 

In my mind, however, I was still the “good girl.” God still owed me because I believed in Him. Unhealthy relationships were just my desperate attempt to get God to make Himself known to me; to open the heavens, reach down His hand in a mighty gesture of neon sign-like presence, and finally show up in my life. Because, after all, wasn’t I promised my deepest, godly desires? I desired God!

But the timeframe and expectations of my desire were not completely based in truth, but moreso in my desire for control. I just felt so devoid of genuine connection from the one I wanted to call “Papa.”

But this desire wrongly manifested in using others to hurt the One I was truly seeking love from.

And I will frankly admit that I am not yet free and clear of the cycle of manipulation in my relational experience, as it still persists in degrees. The game continues to be played, as much as we hate it. 

Because at the core of our relational desires are two basal waring factions: the desire for love, and the contrary desire for control. And as long as these factions war within us, men and women will struggle to connect genuinely, equally, and purely.

For what are men, but the sons of Adam? The legacy of brokenness goes back all the way to the garden. And what are believing men, more than redeemed sons of God on a journey of grace? Both imperfect.

So what is my learning, but the learning of my own name. Learning what it means to extend grace to others; learning how, in my own hurt, to extend it to men.

Because how different relationships could be if every believing person took Jesus’ words seriously to love and be loved in gentleness, kindness, and understanding. To, without expectation or pre-conceived notion, provide places of soft emotional landing. I know my soul longs for that caliber of relationship. 

So may I be changed. May my strength of character and fortitude of heart be saturated in grace. May it start with me. 

May I have the grace not to be an enemy of God, but a friend.