THE GOD OF JOY AND SADNESS

This past fall was an extraordinary time in my life.  I was keenly aware of God’s presence on a continual basis for several months, and his love welled up in me like a spring.  For the first time in my life, I was able to love without any regard for myself whatsoever.  The experience was categorically different from anything that’s come before, and it left me in awe.  The field was limited to my ex-wife and children, but it was real and made a significant impact on those relationships.  I thought I had broken through to something lasting, and it quite literally felt like Heaven.

Unfortunately, it didn’t last.  This winter witnessed its very antithesis.  God’s presence evaporated completely and led to the driest spiritual period I’ve ever faced.  The emptiness was so absolute, it was like being an Atheist all over again.  The experience left me in tatters.  I struggled to understand why God abandoned me, but my prayers were eaten by the same abyss that devoured everything else.

We recently concluded a series on prayer, and I fell asleep last night thinking about it.  Specifically, I considered prayer as alignment with God’s will and quickly categorized my stubborn, unanswered pleas for his presence as unfortunate examples of my continued addiction to comfort and control.  So I went to bed in prayer, resolved to accept the loneliness extant in my soul for weeks now.  I told God if it’s his will to move entirely beyond my senses, I shall surrender to it.

I woke up the next morning feeling quite improved.  While enjoying my morning coffee, my face screwed up a bit, I glanced up (as if God is in the sky) and said, "You really don't make much sense, you know that?  One moment it's agony, the next ecstasy, no rhyme or reason.  What am I going to do with you?"  Then I proceeded to read my daily meditation, courtesy of Fr. Richard Rohr.  This section floored me:

We all bear the mystery of the suffering of God, the sad woundedness that Jesus visibly shares with humanity. We simultaneously bear the conscious glory of God and even "share in the divine nature" (2 Peter 1:4). We carry both at the same time. This requires non-dual consciousness. You are another wonderful instance of both the agony and ecstasy of God, and all you can do is say yes to both of them.  This realization becomes more than enough to fill your life with meaning, vitality, purpose, and wondrous direction. This is what true conversion looks like.

God is driving home a point I've been slow to grasp: he’s a God of both joy and sadness and calls me to love from both places, just as he does.  He showed me a glimpse of love throughout autumn based on presence and joy.  Now it seems he's trying to show me what love looks like through the lens of alienation and hardship.  The process of cultivating my objective self in God isn’t all sweetness and light.  There’s a stark aspect to it, forged not in the absence of suffering, or even despite the suffering, but from it. 

theperennialjourney