My understanding of God's influence

I have often heard the question: "How can God let so many bad things happen?". Years of my life were spent attempting to make sense of this question. Now I have an understanding about painful events in our lives and God's role in it. I believe strongly that all of the events of our life create who we become. I have felt a peace come over me after some very painful events in my life. It has become clear that grace is offered, and often clearly seen, during the most difficult of times. If our lives were without pain, how could we fully appreciate grace?

Since I am far more spiritual than I am religious, I choose not to debate doctrine. I do think about malicious violence in the world and how to process such behavior. Do we blame an element, an energy, a being or do we face what the dark side of life can ignite? Abandonment, neglect, abuse and trauma of all sorts can transform even the strongest of people. Suddenly the world we came to trust, understand and make sense of is spun and uprooted in a way that forever changes how we perceive ourselves and those around us.

We do have choices in how we proceed from pain. Do we withdraw? Do we lash out? Do we decide that because life is not how we knew it to be, we are now not going to play the game of life anymore? I've known more people than I care to count who have taken their own lives. I don't pretend to understand the emotions and reasons that led them to that place. I understand my form of grief and my times with depression.

I think it's pretty clear that there are no easy answers in life. There are answers or guidance that come often after excruciating agony, seeming unyielding grief or anger. For me it seems that the feeling, the energy, the knowing of God comes to me when I question the most. I have changed my question from why does it happen to what does this mean for me.

I remember an episode of the television show Touched by an Angel which looked at the issue of the holocaust during World War II. The atheist's question was: "What was God doing during the time of such misery?" The angel's response was: "He was weeping for his children".  I remember finding comfort in that show. Nowhere was the violence of that time discounted or the wounds of such injustice dismissed. The acknowledgement that God would experience grief seemed meaningful to me.

My belief for a long time was that God was beyond emotions, especially painful ones. I interpreted that to mean that for me no emotion should be felt because to do so was to be different from God. It's interesting how rigid my beliefs were even though I was not raised in religion. Perhaps my lack of fellowship and connection as a young person caused me to bring such harshness upon myself.

Today I believe that God is a presence, an energy that guides my life in a different way than how I believed when I was younger. It began with grief for me. I came to understand that nothing and no one is forever. I am pained by suffering and hope that all of those around me can leave this world with the least amount of pain possible. As my beloved animals have died, I came to feel a deep appreciation for them and all that they gave me. My sadness reduced dramatically when they seemed to be no longer suffering.

Family deaths have been a bit different. I found myself wanting surrender and peace to come to those close to leaving their bodies. My frustration was about them fighting for what I felt was a battle more about ego than peace.

Loss in the form of trauma of all types has been a very different form of grief for me to process. I've seen military families forever changed from deployments, children forever wounded from violence and adults bewildered from the shock of understanding how the world they thought they came from was nothing like the reality. It's humbling, shocking, depressing and overwhelming to see the effects of life on this planet. It is also pretty phenomenal to see the rebirth of life after pain and destruction. To me, that process is grace. To know beyond all doubt that we are cherished children of the Divine is to know the most important truth of all. We are never, ever alone. We may struggle, question, doubt and deny but through it all I believe we are never alone. There is great comfort to me in that. Since I
believe God speaks to us in many forms, who's to say where our next message from God will be? Perhaps beyond the pain, the disappointments, the doubt, we can see the grace in our lives. Maybe grace can best be described as comfort, the soothing, nurturing, healing energy of God's love.

It hurts my heart

Being from New Jersey during a lot of the racial tensions happening in the US, I saw first hand the confusion and pain that comes from deep rooted fear.  When I was a small girl, my parents had neighbors who were a family that had multicultural relationships several generations back.  Two of the daughters were in high school in the early seventies and I remember one of them saying:  "I don't want to have to pick a side. I just want to learn."  Even as a young child I felt her pain in not wanting to choose a racial identity.  She was the child of many cultures:  Native American, African American and an array of European ethnicities.  It hurt me to hear this young woman speak so passionately on how she was forced to choose or have her loyalty be chosen for her.

While working in Atlantic City, most of the members of my closest circles were African Americans.   I remember the looks when we would walk into a nightclub and I was usually one of only a handful of Caucasians.  My friends were very loyal and their response to most of the judgmental sentiment around was:  "She's with us".  I did my best to return the favor when a friend, who was African American, and I went to lunch.  The wait staff was less than thrilled of who my dining partner was and little things began to add up.  My salad was prettier than hers.  My refills were faster.  My dessert looked just a bit nicer than hers.  I was enraged; my friend was aware.  We decided that a tip that reflected OUR service was to make one point and a chat with the manager was to make another.  I remember that day and I remember feeling horrible about what happened.  My friend did her best to explain to me how often these kinds of things happened to her.  We made a pact that day that others' biases would not stop our friendship or our enjoying life!  The shame I felt for the behavior, which was not my fault, stays with me to this day.


I remember applying for a job working in the changing county welfare system in Atlantic City.  My interview questions were direct and powerful and I watched as my multicultural interviewers shifted in their opinion of this "white girl".  I got the job and I remember the biases of my co-workers when I went to go sit and visit with our clients.  None of them, regardless of race, even seemed to see me when I was with our clients.  Apparently some biases go way beyond race.


When I was in Trenton, I worked in an inner city methadone clinic.  Methadone is a synthetic form of an opiate.  It is often given to heroin dependent addicts in an attempt to wean them off of drugs and/or help them to work and be self sufficient while on a prescribed medication.  Methadone is very addictive and I saw few clients actually be able to go drug free.  What I did see was over a 60% full time employment rate, which was higher than most methadone clinics in the state.  I had many clients who tested me to see if I could cut being their counselor.  One of my most challenging clients was an African American woman who screamed at me:  "How dare you care about me?  Who the hell do you think you are?"  She and I did come to some agreements and I watched her melt into an incredibly gentle, caring, kind person who was astonished that anyone, much less a white girl, could honor her being.
 
One of my other clients from that time was an African American man who struggled with alcoholism and was on parole for rape.  He had deep eyes that could be amazingly gentle or hostile depending on the day.  After testing me for months, he finally said:  "Your kindness to me is surprising.  I don't know why you are like this but I thank God for you."


I remember reading a story about two young boys who were from Newark who returned a wallet.  They were both African American and the headline was about how wonderful it was that they were honest.  A friend of mine from Newark, who was a very kind, honest, African American man said:  "How sad is this that it made the headlines?"  I would agree.  This was also the same man who frequently got followed every night by the local police because he worked a late shift and walked from the train station to his apartment in a predominately Caucasian neighborhood.

Atlantic City, Trenton, Newark among other cities in New Jersey are known for having predominately minority communities.  I was blessed to know some very loving people who resided in these places.

One of my most difficult experiences was working in Georgia in the 1980's.  The program I speak of was for children and young adults who had mental health issues and had been caught up in the juvenile system.  I was horrified to see our clients brought to us by law enforcement in handcuffs and shackles.  This outrageous treatment of human beings was not the worst I saw in Georgia.  The campuses of this program were still segregated, something which I thought had ended decades before.  The biases of people in Georgia from the Caucasian director who found me way too opinionated for my own good, to my incredibly racist landlord, to my college experiences which involved being followed and ticketed because I dare befriend a classmate who was African American still are emblazoned in my heart.  I was stunned over the outrageous prejudice and racism all around me. 

Every storm has a gentle rainbow and for me it was my friendship with a co-worker who was an amazingly kind and loving man.  He was a very religious, dark skinned, African American man who did his best to explain to my angry, hostile, narrow minded youthful ignorance that hate solved nothing.  His words:  "Sue, I've been hated for who I am and what I look like all my life.  Hating solves nothing.  Only love changes hate."  I truly honored this man and was grateful he was one of the people the administration deemed professional.  I watched our clients in that program be nurtured by him and our direct care staff, all of whom were African American.  Most of the "professional" staff was Caucasian.  I watched these children be loved and nourished by people the system deemed uneducated.  Our kids got well despite our professional interventions in my opinion.  Love is what healed them, I know.  Georgia is still not a place I can think of without pain yet I learned so much during those times.

I have struggled to love that which I find painful, heartbreaking, cruel, violent, and dishonorable.  This world is full of hate.  It's all around us and sadly often within us.  Loving that which is so wicked is not to give it power or justification.  It is rather to honor the Divine and the power that faith, grace, and spiritual love can bring to any situation.

There are cultures, languages, countries, traditions, and behaviors I don't understand nor do I pretend to, that occur around me all the time.  I am humbled by the power of God's love to transform hate.  I don't honor cruelty, viciousness or bias.  I am realizing more and more how hating hate solves nothing.  Hate is so alluring.  It gives such an illusion of power when in reality it is empty and impotent.

I believe the world is a violent and hateful place often, yet it is never without love, kindness and grace.  I choose to live my life taking responsibility for my fears, biases, and confusion.  I am an earthly mortal doing my best to honor my own spark of Divinity.