Keeping a distance

Dear God, this is Kelley.

I haven’t been writing to You lately. I’ve been writing about You. That’s easier. Writing to You requires an awareness of You and me, and I’ve never been comfortable with that.

Oh, I’ll be in the vicinity! I’ll stay out in the foyer, just outside the door, down the hall. I’ll receive all You say. I’ll do what I think You want me to do. I’ll bring You my prayers … all from over here.

Kids from abusive homes get their first image of God from their parents, and kids from abusive homes aren’t seen. We’re tolerated, used, exploited, and dismissed. And those kids grow into adults who seamlessly think You see us in the same way. So, we maintain a distance (or drop You altogether).

This isn’t the first time I’ve become aware of just how operational this default thinking is. I’ve tried to leap, sneak, step, bolt into Your presence several times. I just can’t tolerate the possibility that I’ll see judgment, disappointment, frustration (or worse) on Your face.

Reflection

How has the way you were perceived as a child colored the way you see God and, more importantly, how you think God sees you?

Prayer

Dear God, I know what looking on someone with delight feels like. I know it every time I get to see one of my children. I’m supposed to believe this is how You perceive me, but I can’t get there. How my parents saw me is too ingrained. Help me, Lord, once and for all, to know how You see me. I tell myself I like this distance between us, but that’s not true. Amen.