This semester I am taking a class
called “Christian Formation and Culture”
where we are studying the roots of Christian formation. At the beginning of the
class, my professor asked all of us where we have been formed spiritually over
the years. As you would expect we wrote down youth group, mission trips,
church, sermons, school, etc. She proceeded to ask how many of us wrote own the
Bible as an avenue for our spiritual formation. None of us raised our hands.
She then went on to say that it seems most of our spiritual formation has happened
through other people. I remember feeling dismayed from this observation. What
had happened to God revealing himself? What had happened to the burning bush
and direct encounter with God? Slowly one girl from the back of the class
raised her hand and asked the question that was on everyone’s mind, “Does that
mean we’re all brainwashed?” A nervous laughter filled the room as a smile
spread across my professor’s face. Something told me that is exactly what we
would be exploring in this class.
I grew up
believing that God is deeply personal; someone to know me, love me, and grow
with. I had always experienced God in a very direct way. Communication through
prayer was between God and me, worship was sung directly to God, and life
wisdom was presented from God. I believed that all peace and satisfaction for the
day could be reached through my quiet time with God. Of course I loved my
friends and family, but I don’t think I realized how essential they really
were. When people came into my life and I experienced a “social high” I thanked
God, and when people hurt me it was okay because I had God. I thought of people
simply as blessings, not necessities. I don’t think I realized how wrong I was
until this semester.
I went into
this school year so excited and on fire for God. I had just experienced a
wonderful summer of deep community with people I loved at camp. As the year progressed
I slipped into this very solitary existence with God. ‘As long as I do my quiet times, I’m good,’ I remember thinking. I
had friends, I had God, what more could I need? Slowly, however, I started to
slip into this deep hole of depression. I didn’t understand. What was I doing
wrong? Why wasn’t I happy? Slowly God started to slip from view and I couldn’t
hear his voice as clearly as I once could. But I needed to stay strong. I
needed to be that person that people could rely on. I began to realize I
couldn’t be that person, or rather I didn’t want to be. Either people would
come to me and I wouldn’t want to listen, or the people I cared most about
wouldn’t let me. I didn’t understand what was missing. Little did I know God
was preparing my heart for one of the most important lessons I would ever
learn.
I came back
second semester feeling a little better, but very quickly became drained. I
started taking this class on Christian formation and was intrigued by our
discussions and debates. We started talking about tri-polar spirituality: how
we need God, the community of believers, and ourselves for transformation to
happen. The professor even presented the idea that sometimes God chooses to be
silent and rather speaks through the people in our lives. Tears filled my eyes
as I realized that I was experiencing the silence of God.
One
Saturday I woke up and started to do my homework. I couldn’t finish because I
was overtaken by a wave of depression. I remember holding my head asking God why I couldn't hear His voice? Why did I feel alone? About an hour later I got
a text from one of my friends asking me to go take a walk. I put on my best
game face, wiped the tears from my eyes, and met her for a walk. I tried to
engage in the most upbeat conversation that I could muster feeling the way I
did. At the end of the walk we went to get dinner and there she asked me what
was wrong. Even though I promised myself I wouldn’t, I proceeded to tell her. I
hadn’t been hearing the voice of God like I once had. I didn’t understand why.
I wanted to know that God was there but couldn’t. She then pulled something up
on her phone for me to read. It talked about how sometimes God withholds His
voice from us because he is training us to love Him beyond the feeling. “I am silent in My love
because I love beyond the power of words to express, or of human hearts to
understand, and also for your sakes that you may learn to love and trust Me in
Spirit-taught, spontaneous response to My love, without the spur of anything
outward to call it forth” (Streams in the Desert, Febuary 9th). This brought tears to
my eyes, but I don’t think I realized the extent of this encounter until weeks
after. From this I learned that God sometimes speaks through people and we need
community in order to survive.
So many of us are looking for this apophatic,
direct encounter with God. However, sometimes God speaks through the whisper described
in 1 Kings 19:12. Perhaps the mystery of His silence rests in the people He
puts into our lives. In fact, in my own life, the times I have been the most
happy are the times I have been engaged in a deep community of faith, such as
camp, church, or school. That is the key to joy. That is the key to transformation.
That is the key for life. Life is found when we find the door to God’s intended
community.
