permission pending from Julian Majin

1) Have you ever felt like God was sleeping?

This is a hard question because our experience is such that we don't experience God as an audible voice or a visual presence, at least not one we recognize. Because of this we rail out for God to wake up or pay attention to our concerns. What's been helpful for me is to recognize the many layered dimensions that exist in my own mind, not to mention the physical universe. How would I expect it to be different in the spiritual realm?

I sometimes imagine myself in utero, with God as my mother. I can't see her face, and I only hear her voice in muffled murmurs, in a language I don't yet understand. I don't know what she's doing, thinking or where she's going. At times there's no movement at all, and I can only assume she is sleeping and not concerned about me at all. Little do I know that her sleeping is necessary. God is completely surrounding me, nurturing me and planning for my future. Her thoughts are far above my thoughts, and her world is infinitely larger. It's a helpful analogy as I grapple with God's seeming absence, and my own faulty memory and understanding.

— Penny

To say God is sleeping is to assume God has failed to know me or care for me. It also assumes that my self-knowledge is accurate, that I know what I need and when it should arrive. It  also assumes that God’s sleeping is a waste of time, that God wakes without remembering the dreams God has for me. 

The poet David Whyte writes that "Self knowledge is not fully possible for human beings. We do not reside in a body, mind or a world where it is achievable or from the point of being interesting, even desirable. Half of what lies in the heart and mind is potentiality; resides in the darkness of the unspoken and unarticulated and has not yet come into being: this hidden unspoken half of a person will supplant and subvert any present understandings we have of ourselves.”

We do not know ourselves well, nor God. God knows our waking selves, as well as the halves of us which are unarticulated and submerged in darkness. God is not only interested in where we are (which is usually my sole concern), but where things can go as hidden potentialities. Could the sleeping God be at work submerged in the unspoken and unarticulated world of shadow, moving over the deep, making order out of chaos? 

Let God sleep. And when God rises let me be awake to hear those dreams. 

— Eldon

The very first thought that came to me when I woke up this morning was, “I wish I didn’t have to start from scratch each morning. Why can’t I carry the spirit of yesterday, those thoughts and moments that connected me to life, into today?” It’s as if sleep steals away any spiritual insight that proved to be so helpful just hours earlier.  

I’m sure those newly liberated slaves wandering in the Exodus asked similar questions. “Why can’t I save and store up yesterday’s manna? Those day-old promises of deliverance and accompaniment would really come in handy.” In my need to control and resistance to trust I’m with them. It would be so much simpler, a real time-saver. If I could stockpile God’s faithful provisions, I wouldn’t have to waste my energy going out, risking disappointment.

I’ve noticed lately the effort it takes to get up in the morning. Evenings tend to end in a mood of contentment and satisfaction but for some reason the thought of a new day ahead fills me with low-grade dread. I have my routines laid out but ultimately you just never know how days unfold. That “you never know” feeling can be scary.

In answer to my first thought, my very next thought was much like what Yahweh told the Israelites in their exile: “If you could horde my promises of provision, put them aside in case of emergency and be the ones to dole out these crumbs of deliverance at your own discretion, there would be no reason to get up, no reason to be on the look-out for how I, your loving Father, is in your day.” Without the need for God’s sustaining daily bread, I would most likely stay under the covers and go back to sleep, spiritually speaking.

I realize this question is about God sleeping and those times I have felt the need to wake God up. But I’m wondering if there’s a connection between how I sense God’s slumber with my fog of sleep. Is God dozing off and unaware or is it really because I often sleep walk my way through life? In those moments when I jolt up in bed, finally conscious of how desperate I am for a sense of authenticity, purpose, and connection that I sense the deeper presence of the spirit rouse into consciousness. A presence that is always there I’m told. 

Exploring my Enneagram “9” space/compulsion recently has helped me discover that despite waking up bright and early ready to do motor through the day’s tasks, I can be unaware of a closeness with God and who I am as his image-bearer. I find great consolation in the verse that tells us that the spirit prays for us with wordless groans and knows our heart in ways we don’t.

Like Jesus who was asleep in the boat, we can be assured that even if God seems asleep, he has one eye open, offering us the means of grace to wake up to each day regardless of what lies ahead. Whether it’s through confession, the stillness of silence and meditation, starting up my sourdough, desperation prayers, a genuine shared conversation, or pondering a passage for a homily or study, I am stirred by Christ’s wakeful presence. Instead of drowsiness, God offers me rest that is restorative and the spirit lies in wait and wisdom igniting a consciousness and aliveness in me that can’t be stored away. When fully awake I am left feeling gratitude for this manna.

— Bev

2) How do you interpret vs 11 which speaks of "everlasting joy" and "sorrow and sighing fleeing away "? What is the source of joy in your life? 

I experience joy when I think about the bigger picture. When God, in Genesis, says creation is good it means the whole complete story is good. He's finished the novel and says it is good.  We experience life as part way through the novel. In the moments when I can trust that the whole story is good and that one day I will know the end of the story, I experience joy.  

I also feel joy when I live in awe and wonder! In moments I am fascinated that I've been given the privilege of piloting this weird vehicle made up of atoms, molecules, proteins, lipids, cells, tissues, organs that somehow work together and be a body and, on top of it, this assembly is self aware! I get excited when I think about the endless things to discover and experience in this universe and the only real responsibility I have been given is to love God and my neighbour (tasks easier said than done!) . In those moments I feel like as long as there is air in my lungs and blood coursing through my veins, I will be thankful and praise God for the life I've been given!

— Marty

Hanson says that the text seems to elicit “a response that renounces despair as the bondage that keeps the tyrant in power”. It’s gets at the truth that the experience of freedom isn’t tied to physical circumstance (think of Nelson Mandela; he was free long before he was released from prison). 

On the weekend I was reading about Jesus’ baptism. Moltmann says it’s likely that Jesus was first a disciple of John. John preached and baptized for repentance. Jesus was baptized along with many others but he experienced something different at his baptism than the forgiveness of sins. He experiences the Spirit, and with the indwelling of this Spirit, Jesus’ relationship to God becomes one of sonship. From this time on, Jesus refers to God as Abba. And from this Abba relationship flows Jesus’ understanding of the immanent, intimate kingdom in which “the justice of mercy rules for all the weary and heavy-laden.” 

When I read that I had this pang, something like “I wish I trusted God like Jesus did.” And more, that I had a basis for that trust, with life in community, but mistrust over uncertainty was deeply buried in me, continually being revealed as more stones get overturned. Of course I’m human and subject to fear and anxiety and the whims of circumstance. But for a moment it was like Jesus was someone I really admired and I saw that he handled fear and anxiety better than I do. Or something like that. 

Anyways, queue up Monday. Another day of back-to-back meetings and by lunch I’m trying to remember my desire to be more like Jesus. As I was eating I texted Cal: “Trying to remember Jesus in the midst of busyness”. And Cal texted back, “Jesus remembers you.” Ahh. 

I almost heard a “click” as that little text resonated within me. As much as I want to practice intentionality, and to follow Jesus in prayer and service, in the end, Jesus comes as a gift. Like an attentive friend who’s been there all along. I felt my gratitude flowing into my breathing and it stayed with me the whole day. I was strangely relaxed in all my meetings, and not depleted at the end of the day. That elusive passionate disinterestedness. And even though I awoke the next day to a more wary consciousness, the memory of yesterday is an anchor point. Something broke in. Something else will break in. Is that a hint of freedom? Of Joy?

— Linda

3) Yahweh complains that Israel is forgetful of God's past actions. Is this criticism just? What is it about us that makes us live our lives forgetful of how God has acted in the past?

I tend to think of God’s work (with all of Creation) as containing an underlying intention of developing a people/world that will reflect his/her intentions and glory - over the long haul. For whatever reason, we live in conditions with a lot of uncertainty so we feel ‘blind’ seeking wisdom pretty much all of the time. We need reminding to trust that God’s going to be in each ‘new context’ as well. Will I step out in faith (remembering how God has acted in the past), perhaps at some risk, or keep to what’s a little more under my control?

Just wondering what a personal example might be … boy, I really feel like life has been a process of growth (x10). I came into the world with a pretty teenie-tiny worldview. I could have bunked quite well with a mouse. :-)  All those painful lessons of learning to relate, to use my mind, to trust, have not resulted in a direct line of successive successes! But slowly there have been a few learnings, I hope. Brueggeman painted a picture of the rich developmental nature of the OT, it just makes sense that we go through those cycles of orientation/disorientation/reorientation again and again. Those reminders to ‘remember’ are little Godsends along the way. 

— Verda 

We are a forgetful people; I am a forgetful person. As my consciousness dims when I feel paranoid, anxious or lonely, or all three - I am not a remembering person. I am fixated on my present ills that seem to take up 99% of my brain. It seems like a near certainty. Without question, when I find myself with a new physical ache or a relational anxiety, my mind and heart immediately goes to: oh no, this ache or anxiety is now with me forever. Will I be able to cope? It seems like I will not be able to. I may be doomed. Suddenly I have become master of my own domain, and I have forgotten that I have felt this way many times in the past, and many times God has answered me with moments of zen, community love and encouragement, analytical insight that leads to a sense of calm, or synchronicities that lead to something close to what more ‘faithful' people than me call worship.

Israel, in the thrall of Babylonian ideologies, as Brueggemann states, has forgotten their first love, Yahweh’s devotion and care for them. They believe Yahweh is slumbering and has forgotten them. Yet I love how ’the poet’ does a double-take. The "I, I am he who comforts you.” Remember me, times infinity! God, attentively, awake, is saying to Israel: your addictions, your fears, your allegiances to lesser things, are missing the greater reality. That God alone has spread out the heavens and the earth. No mere mortal can match that kind of authority. Trust me, not that other stuff. It will lead to a greater sense of satisfaction, security and loving well-being. 

Sounds like my experience is a lot like the ancient Israelites. I get enthralled with lesser lights as well, so easily, and my ‘exiles’ seem to pale in comparison to these ancient peoples, and to a lot of suffering people today. But perhaps we are all part of the same human condition, easily distracted. Yet when we cry out to God, as the ancients did, we are waken up by the Spirit to see how fortunate we are. To be alive in the first place. And to participate in this awesome creation, in our multi-gifted community, with whatever skill and intentionality and heart we are gifted with. May we use all of ‘it' to add loving value to the world, and not waste it on just protecting ourselves from reality. 

— Lyle

4) What gives you hope when you are under the thumb of oppression? 

I guess questions 3/4 are combined ...what makes me forgetful is when I don't take time to sit and meditate on ways in the past I have been met. So what gives me hope is reminders, often in pictures, that I save on my phone of times that I have felt met. When I can't sleep at 4 AM and my mind starts going to dark places of "I should not of said this, or I should not of said that, or does anyone care, or what is my purpose,” I try to remember pictures that fill me with hope and love.

The Message version for verse 16 says "welcome my people". I have thought of this sign a few times at 4am that I saw on the river trail in winter by local artist Kal Barteski. This verse reminded me of one in particular: 

So it is a partnership with the spirit. I remember the sunny winter day I went walking that I had my eyes and ears open for anything the spirit wanted to say and then all of these signs just popped up on the path. I guess the artist had just posted them the night before and it was just a lovely little treasure hunt surprise. But my work to do is to slow down enough And put away my to-do list or my phone that distracts me to find ways to still my mind. 

— Mel

I have this short end-of-the-rope prayer when I am lost in the weeds; when as Thomas Merton said, “I have no idea where I’m going. I do not see the road ahead of me.” Falling asleep, I’ll pray, “God, don’t forget me.” 

The lament behind it is my fear that God is sleeping in the boat, but I know it’s me who’s been asleep to God’s presence. I usually have this overwhelming feeling that I don’t really deserve to be asking God to remember me, since I’ve been the one ignoring him while being fretfully distracted! I’m painfully aware that I’m counting on God’s undeserved favor i.e. grace. I don’t know if I’m waking God up, or God waking me up, rousing me to action, but God is so faithful in answering my prayer, reminding me in so many ways that I’m not forgotten. I’m still part of God’s world. 

What gives me hope in the throes of oppression are often small things. Watching colors magically make a watercolor painting beautiful (only a slight effort by me); a podcast that sparks hope or new thoughts; reading even just a few lines from all our studies that re-orient me; a good conversation; seeing the spring birds in migration; being the recipient of kindness from a friend or a stranger. I love finding a good quote for someone and making it into a card. Feeling life come back to my bones in the morning through yoga always feels like a miracle. I’ve been given another day. I felt like I was at such a dead end years ago, and this new day thing never stops amazing me. 

— Lydia

I remember a dream where I was on the ground, and my opponent towered over me on a horse, holding a scythe that penetrated my lower back. Later I returned to the battle scene, sitting on a white horse that pounced on the opponent - now dismounted - with its hooves crushing, and destroying my oppressor.  

Interestingly, this year I found that the belief system that had been implanted since early in my life like a weed - removed. I had the image of a roughly hewn pine cross in its place. And then, I experienced Jesus drawing near to me through the photo on my wall of a birch tree near a lake. So cool that God who was initiated into my psyche along with a fear based and distorted belief system, now graciously came through nature. In other words, I would never be afraid of a birch tree.  :)  

— Marilyn

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