No Formula

I’m reading the bible differently these days and finding it relatable to a depth that has made me genuinely laugh out loud at times, slapping my forehead saying, “Oh man, yes! What the actual f-.”

Two books that I’d never given much mind to: Ecclesiastes and Job. The later being one which I immensely disliked. But in the last days of my fasting, I for some reason had the mind to pick up and read the ancient thoughts of King Solomon, whose sarcasm and nihilism, by the way, is keenly cutting and self-aware. Strangely comforting for a body who may wonder why life seems like the cruelest, most pointless form of masochism.

I read the first line: “Everything is meaningless, completely meaningless!” And a smile rose onto my face, and relief entered my heart.

It continues: “Everything is wearisome beyond description. No matter how much we see, we are never satisfied. No matter how much we hear, we are not content. History merely repeats itself. It has all been done before.”

I laughed, and retorted the beginning phrase with some creative license. F- meaningless! It’s all f- meaningless! And it felt so good to say what my heart and spirit were crying out in truth, albeit sprinkled with a large dose of cynicism.

But nevertheless, the admittance felt so relieving, so genuine. King Solomon wasn’t likely planning on connecting with a white gal in Brooklyn, but in that moment, the ancient touched the modern in a rawness of truth that could’ve easily been shared over a beer and many ‘what the actual f-’ stories. 

His writing is completely disenchanted, and I felt myself enmeshed in its frankness. We shared a kinship of humanity more than three thousand years apart, because as time has proven true, everything is indeed meaningless. We consume without being satisfied.

And I know this has, and is often tempered and justified to take the edge off. We don’t like to think this way. We like positivity and exclamation points! 

But I stick by it, as is. Admitting meaningless doesn’t diminish my life, another’s life, or responsibility and stewardship. I see it rather as a call to take myself less seriously - hold my circumstances more loosely. 

But when we read the bible with an inevitable lens to this or that sensibility, we can be led to believe that we can’t hold our lives loosely, for we must be on the ‘narrow path’ leading to life. One path to life, and another to death.  

Tight wire then comes to mind. One missed step, and you’re out of God’s will. Fallen, back to square one. Or worse, on the wide path to 'destruction.'

So we then live with a subconsciously invoked sense of fear and paralysis of action, guised in language of not wanting to be out of God’s will. Yet I think back to the times I've declared "God is good! All will be well! I'm believing for a breakthrough!" And everyone applauds your words of faith, yet slinking back in private feeling dejected, frustrated, and despairing, unable to reconcile a deep distrust of God with a desire to be what I declared on the outside.

Why was the disconnect so gaping? Why did it all feel so powerless? So meaningless? So goddamn frustrating! Why was the 'formula' not working?

The inevitable responding imagery to this, however, is to reason that Jesus is the netting below to save us from breaking our necks. 

But to which I would reply, so what does that say about God? -That we need a middle man to save us from one who would set us upon a dangerous tight rope to begin with?

I don't like the question or the answer, but I love that even the idea of the question is being asked; and hopefully, talked about. 

Perhaps for you, this thought is an obvious one, but not for me; at least not publicly. My experience had taught me to live with blind optimism. But my ‘dark night of the soul’ has lead me elsewhere; somewhere much more genuine and gentle, but also much fiercer and honest.

Because God can stand up for Himself, and answer for Himself. I’m realizing now that I don’t flatter Him by defending or excusing Him. I don’t need to convince anyone, or voraciously protect my beliefs anymore. I can admit the deep misgivings I have about the bible, yet remain a deeply faithful, open, and seeking person.

Now enter Job. I’ve never liked his story because it only reinforced my 'righteous' anger against God.

Essentially, God plays a giant mind f- on Job because Lucifer bets Him that Job would lose heart with God when life wasn’t going his way.

Long story short, Job has everything taken from him. His livelihood, his family, his health. Every goddamn thing. Now mind you, Job is called a righteous man by God, yet God literally allows his life to fall to wreck and ruin. His religious friends come to comfort him with likely the best of intentions, but proceed to accuse Job of his assumed wrong-doings, because God is Holy, and would never inflict or allow such loss without reason of judgement.

They proceed to recall the high and lofty attributes of God. How mighty, how great, how faithful, how just is Jehovah! Notice that every commendation of God’s character is true, yet recycled in this context, is used to beat Job over the head at his lowest and most vulnerable.

Speaking the truth in love? Ouch. There's a thought. Using truth to 'lovingly' clobber someone.

But truly, it’s their, and our best effort to explain the unexplainable. We elevate our finite understanding of God and the world, and use the bible to protect, insulate, and prop up our righteous judgements. Because, after all, God says so. 

We find our community, and hide our deepest misgivings. Until the dark night beckons.

Job’s companions don't stop. They make excuses for God, and offer justifications for why Job is experiencing such horror of loss.

But Job refuses to absorb their, though well-intentioned, manipulation and misappropriated logic. He asks abjectly, “Are you defending God with lies” Do you make your dishonest arguments for his sake? Will you slant your testimony in his favor?

…”No, you will be in trouble with him if you secretly slant your testimony in his favor.”

If God cannot handle the truest, truest questions of our hearts; the languishing questions of a Job-like heart, than we owe it to our genuine selves to re-evaluate everything.

“Yes, I will take my life in my hands and say what I really think. God might kill me, but I have no other hope. I am going to argue my case with him. But this is what will save me - I am not godless.”

I take heart in this; that God is a big boy. Or certainly by the definition of ‘God,’ should be. And all cynicism aside, I know He is. Which is why I feel completely at home writing these admittances as I find excellent company in the f- meaningless rationales and arguments rightly foisted against God which have proceeded me by oh, three thousand years. 

Wrestling with the giant mind f- that is God is not new, but has been from when there was nothing, to when there was something.

So let’s not over-spiritualize it, or be threatened by it. There’s no formula for navigating the giant, God-sized mind f- that is our lives and this world. And it’s actually an amazing thing, for we can laugh, curse, question, and be in wonder at all of it.