Has God forgotten?



Has God forgotten to be gracious?
Ps. 77:9, CSB

Lent is a time of waiting. A solemn occasion of sacrifice, and reflection leading up to the events of Good Friday. 

I walked down my road, gravel crunching under my feet, questions and thoughts circling around in my mind.

How can some churches verbally attack others and profess love at the same time?
If there's room for that in God’s Kingdom, there must be room for all. Right?

God was stirring in my mind, heart, and soul. It was a beautiful summer morning for a walk. The skies were blue. The air had that morning crispness to it, and I listened to the birds calling back and forth to each other. As I walked down my country backroad I reflected on the ministry of Jesus, yet I muddled over the gloomy truth of what I witnessed. I found myself asking,

Where did grace go?

Psalm 77 begins with a plea,

I cry aloud to God, aloud to God, and he will hear me.

My walk down the road did nothing to ease the loneliness that had been present for the past few weeks, oppressively surrounding me. I cried aloud to God but got very little in response. Just my own musings and frustrations. I was asking questions in the church that made others uncomfortable –

Is evangelism an idol?
Is the church an idol?
Is the church vocal about some communities because their voice has no power there?

I was asking questions that made me uncomfortable - 

What am I even doing in here?
Why do I go to church?
How do I love Christians who speak hateful, judgmental things directed at others?
How do I love myself for doing the same thing?

The psalmist cries out “has God forgotten to be gracious?” But I wondered – 

God? Has the church forgotten to be gracious?

“Loneliness”. Painted by the author during this particular season

I continued walking, kicking stones and watching them skip down the road ahead of me. A bird flew by, and in the distance, I heard the call of a loon on West Lake. My neighbour’s horses met me along the fence line, curious about this intruder but happily enjoying their breakfast, nonetheless. I didn’t have answers, and I didn’t really expect to find any. Maybe grace is in the wrestling, and rumbling of our own internal struggles. That place, deep within, where we find ourselves and God in the same moment. Margaret Silf calls this the “molten core” of our being. I learned through silence and solitude that my molten core is filled with the desire for inclusive equality. 

Silf explains that our lives are made up of circumstances we can’t control – like the weather – and the choices that we make because of those moments – if it’s raining, you grab an umbrella. Some are simple, everyday matters, but others are big, life- changing events. The crossroads. I stood there now, and I had to ask myself, do I stay the course, knowing there will be sacrifices? Understanding that my interpretation of Jesus is different than many others in my community? 

Can I say with the psalmist,

I will remember the Lord’s works…
I will reflect on all you have done,
And meditate on your actions.
God, your way is holy…
You are the God who works wonders?
Ps. 77:11-14 (CSB)

I was in a period of lament, and wonder. Surrender, and growth. A time of gracious tension. Even though I was going through a period of oppressive loneliness, when my spiritual director asked me to describe it with one word (no small feat!), one that came to mind was excitement. How could I possibly be excited about this experience? I felt like God had no answers for me, like no change would ever occur. But I trusted that God is “the God who works wonders.” So yes, I stay the course. I follow the Spirit, and make the changes in my life that need to take place. Living and loving in the gracious tension. 

For me, it meant finding a new community, without damaging relationships from my old one, even though we may disagree. (Don’t get me wrong, it was still months before I enacted the changes I knew were coming!) It means moving forward in love, but speaking out against spiritual abuse, even though I may experience backlash. It means both sacrifice and surrender, but also growth and wonder. 

What does gracious tension look like for you?


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