Seeking any relationship rather than the effects it can give is disturbingly difficult! Seeking to be in the arms of my God, devoid of any benefit isn’t just difficult.
Close to none of the men and women in my domestic violence groups were focused on holding to their partner. A portion, in all my groups, were focused on what their partner was doing that pissed them off. The rest were those whose pissedness left puddles scattered around everyone other than that partner. Their reasons for differing fashions of violence were all about what that “g****d partner” had or hadn’t done!
A few of my clinical years were spent doing regular runs through mine fields couples had planted around one another. None of them, like myself, were truly focused on their relationship. Our shared core interest was in getting those items, most of which were honestly needed, from our partners. The sorry effects were our seeing those partners as conveyor belts. All that any of us must do in taking care of ourselves in this fashion is to replace the conveyor belt!
I have to say that while I intellectually understood the difference between seeing my ex-wife as the needed mule versus seeing and so desiring her in spite of those true needs, I never fully accomplished that end. My deeper problem in all of this is that it took the Spirit of God chasing a few more of my bats from my belfry before coming to see my problem differently.
Here I am at fifty-five with twenty some years of progressively practicing the Jesus Prayer under my belt and just catching sight of needing to crawl up into my Saviours lap. No, not to be nourish and loved, which the Triune One is already doing with me. Rather, I am learning to crawl up into the Spirit’s loving arms and cry, bitch and whine about not being able to make things happen. I know this sounds contradictory, so hear me out.
Several years ago my now deceased son called me while mad as hell with everyone and so drunk it was too easy to smell the liquor over my cell phone. Raking me over the coals of his rage many, many times over I stayed my course. Refusing to hit back my son repeatedly struck at me, trying to get confirmation of why he felt so pummeled with shame. By the end of a conversation, I hadn’t needed to put many words into, my son was sobbing about my loving him. Discovering that his dad refused to push him away over his pain, anger and fear touched him deeper than I was conscious of.
I figure that I am now doing the same, with my Father. My deepest trial is in getting up the courage and taking the risk of revealing myself to God in the same way my son did with me.