Several years ago I read a book called The Sacred Romance, in which author claimed I should approach my relationship with God like it was a marriage. “Well in that case,” I thought, “God and I need marriage counseling. Because we’re on the brink of divorce.”
It had been a horrible year. My father died; my mother had a stroke. My 15-year acting career tanked, first in New York and then in LA, just as my four best friends got their acting breaks. In fact, one of my friends in New York got cast in a hit TV show created by my high school sweetheart. It got worse: those same four friends were getting married that summer, just as “Jack,” my almost-fiancé, broke up with me over the phone.
So I flew back to New York to attend the wedding circus. Just as I got off the plane a friend from church called, inviting me for a stroll in Central Park. Whom should we spy in the Park but Jack: making out with his new girlfriend. Know what my friend said? “Praise the Lord! God is showing you that Jack’s moved on.”
No, God was showing me that He’d moved on, from me! My thoughts began to unravel. Maybe God hated me. Or worse: maybe He felt nothing at all, for anyone. Maybe I’d never heard God speak. Maybe I made it all up. And if that were true, them my entire life – how I'd tried to know God’s will and please Him – had been a lie.
I knew of one thing to do: go see a therapist. I found this hippie-turned pastor-turned therapist named Rudy. Our first session went something like this…
~~~
RUDY: So, Suze, you wanna take God to marriage counseling? That’s awesome.
SUSAN: It’s not like I expect God to physically show up and talk.
RUDY: Actually, He kinda has to. I need to hear what your God sounds like.
SUSAN: You know what He’s like. We believe in the same God.
RUDY: Yeah, but my God’s not a jerk. I like my God; I feel safe with Him. Your version of God is so tweaked, you imagine Him going around blessing your friends and trashing you.
SUSAN: Rudy! God made sure I showed up in Central Park, a city I don’t live in anymore, to watch my Ex shove his tongue down a girl’s throat!
RUDY: Then why did God do it? I want to hear how He thinks and feels about you, how you imagine He does. So when I ask God a question, I want you to reply – not how you think God is supposed to sound, but from your gut reaction. ‘Kay?
Rudy waited. How could I picture God in the room? I thought of the burning bush in The Ten Commandments or the cartoon cutout God from Monty Python. I thought of my earthly father, glaring at me … then I stopped thinking and went with it.
RUDY: Lord, are you willing to show up for counseling every week?
I imagined a long, exasperated sigh from the Almighty.
GOD: I’ve got a universe to manage and you want me to sit in a couch every week and listen to Susan’s feelings? Susan, you know what your problems are? They’re middle class white girl’s problems. You’re not in Darfur. Get over yourself.
SUSAN: (Glaring at God, then) Can I talk to Jesus, please?
JESUS: Hey, Suze, how’s my favorite girl?
SUSAN: Your dad is so mean to me!
JESUS: I know you feel that way, but He really loves you.
GOD: (interrupting) Can I just remind Susan that Jesus is me! If you’ve seen Jesus, you’ve seen the Father! Why do I always have to be the Bad Cop?!
SUSAN: Your sarcasm isn’t helping.
GOD: Sarcasm is a viable form of communication! Remember what I said to Job? “Excuuuse me, Job. Where were you when I formed the foundations of the earth? Tell me since apparently you know!”
SUSAN: That’s great for a literary device but not in a relationship. You better change, because I can’t stay married to you if you’re like this.
GOD: I’m all for it. But if I’m just some version of God that proceeds out of your warped imagination, then who’s responsible for changing me? You are.
RUDY: Okay, so you’re angry at each other. Anger is a sign of hurt. But we don’t get hurt by people we don’t care about; we get hurt by people we love. So there’s love here.
GOD: Jesus and I never get angry at each other.
RUDY: I know you’re the Supreme Being, Lord, but right now I’d like you to listen. God rolled his eyes. (Okay God doesn’t have eyes to roll, but that’s what I imagined He’d do.)
~~~
How had I come to view God as such a mean, sarcastic jerk? How could I begin to unravel the intricate threads that made up my version of God, and determine what was true and what wasn’t? And what was just a mystery? That is what Rudy and I set about doing.
If you want to know how it all turns out, you’ll have to read the rest my book. But I will tell you this one thing: God completely torched my life. And it’s the best thing that ever happened to me.