Michael Scull - 17 October 2008 08:32 AM
I haven’t seen any advise or help offered other than “trust in the Lord”
and what a joke that is.
anyway.....
and that’s where the problem lays .....all stems from loonies with imaginary friends ;)
only way I can see it I’m afraid :( ........and it’s rampant! :(
Thank you for your post, Michael. Yes, I think for some, in some ways, God is like a child’s invisible friend. In his excellent book, The Courage To Be, Paul Tillich wrote of the courage to face life’s realities as ‘rooted in the God who appears when God has disappeared in the anxiety of doubt’.
In other words, there can be a depth beyond superstition that informs people when they advise one to “trust in the Lord”. They might be just referring to a rosy idea in their heads, but they might be tapping water from a deeper well which ultimately words fail to convey.
An overwhelming anxiety I felt through my trauma and grief was that of invisibility. As many of our Christian icons attest, our existence is held through the eyes of others. But my wife, whom I entrusted to see me as I saw her, turned her face away, initially distorting my image, and then not seeing me at all. (A very common grief experience, I expect, in this age plagued by non-committed marriage committments).
A close friend of mine who was raped was further traumatised by her realisation of invisibilty to the police and court authorities, whom, she believed, were entrusted with ‘seeing’ her.
So, to whom do I turn to see me? Were I to say, as you may expect, ‘God’, you could justly accuse me of bringing in my invisible friend. But, God’s seeing is not like someone else’s seeing, God’s seeing is the fact that seeing is happening at all, incarnated as my seeing (and the seeing of everything else). He sees, not from afar, but intimately, by being. Even though I am alone in this room in front of this computer, I am still being seen through my own seeing; it is the channel of compassion and grace. But the ‘my’ in the previous sentence is redundant: it is not separate from the seeing. I am the seeing, or, probably better put, the seeing is all there is. This, to me, is an aspect of the God in whom we ‘live, move and have our being’.
I’m sorry I can’t explain it better, but while I might be invisible to ‘her’ or ‘them’, I remain forever an ocean of light.
Eric.