Religion in the cold months

I’ve been on the outs with God since Christmas. At the Christmas Eve service, there was a lot of talk about faith, and I remember thinking, “You know, I just don’t have that much faith. I don’t think I believe in this.” I find Jesus annoyingly unknowable for the living incarnation of God -- the ostensibly accessible member of the Godhead.

I’m journeyman-level at Jesus worship by now, so I’ve had enough experience not to get thrown by this. Crises of faith aren’t cheap, but they don’t have to break the bank.

I felt relieved to admit it. As a journeyman follower, I also know by now to follow the relieved feelings. It’s a signal that I’ve been over-trying somewhere; taking it easy is probably a better path.

So I haven’t been working at being spiritual for the last few weeks. I haven’t wanted to go to public meeting or cell group, and sometimes we/I go anyway, but sometimes it doesn’t happen. You know, okay.

A frequent bugbear in my spirituality is the seeming arbitrariness of prayer. Sometimes God grants you your requests, and sometimes God does not, and sometimes there is a silent void that does not appear to acknowledge that you said anything, or that there is a you even making requests. It’s that last one that gets me.

Our heat has been on the fritz for... well, since we’ve owned the house. This winter, the furnace has added a twist by working only intermittently. The heating guy comes out at least once a week to tinker with it, but nothing sticks. Money saved on gas bills is literal cold comfort.

I just bundled up and stuck it out at home today. I don’t like it, but I can distract myself. However, M’s cell has been meeting at our house lately, and a 50 degree living room is poor hosting material.

I took Autumn for a walk before cell group started, and while I was out I didn’t choose to pray. But I thought about praying. I thought that if I were to pray, I would pray for the heat to come on at our house, so M’s cell could meet there, and she could enjoy a warm house.

When I got home, several people were in the living room, and M informed me that the heat had come on. It just started working again. Like it does sometimes.

There’s no moral here. Just another small point of reference in trying to figure out how to live with and worship a God who claims to be love, yet seems to act arbitrarily. I want to understand. I do not want to reject, or to shrug and accept. I want to understand.