We are deep beings. Living in the tension of what we hope and what we fear. And we try with all our might to beat our fears into submission and fix our eyes on the hope until we’re convinced it’s the only reality.

We bury the fears deep in our subconscious, thinking that if we can just stop listening, they’ll stop speaking. But if we’re honest, they don’t. And they won’t. They keep speaking. And we keep listening. So we spend our lives fighting against the fears, trying to prove them wrong, not realizing that our attempt at silencing the voice is actually giving it power to guide us. We can fight against it all we want, and ignore the taunts, but as soon as something happens that doesn’t seem to line up with our hoped-in reality, the voice will mock, “See! I told you so!”

Maybe the voice questions the goodness of God. Maybe it tells you that you will always be rejected. Whatever it is, the falsity of the voice cannot be determined based our knowledge of the “right” answer. Because the concept that we fight against is backed by real experiences and informed reasoning which have given it the right to speak.

The only way to see our fears truly put to rest is to engage with them, to expose them, to allow them to come to the surface. We need to be honest. We must step into a process, a place where we let go of our grip on what we want to be true. And there, all of the foundation which isn’t solid will be burnt away, and what is true will again prove itself. It’s an unsettling thing – terrifying really – as all our airtight ideas are exposed as feeble concepts. For most of us, we would rather hold onto a familiar lie than let it fall away in hopes of reaching the truth. But we must let go of the image of God that we’ve gotten so comfortable with.

We created these images because we had to. The world was far too shaky, his voice too distant. We needed something to hold on to, and so we built an idol that we could imagine. One that we could understand and that was consistent. But those who trust in idols become like them: Fake. Insincere. Inauthentic. But this process, this stripping and reforming, leaves us with a true foundation, free from insecurity and the hollow clichés we’ve used to hold our hopes together.

In Exodus 32 the people of Israel created an idol, a calf made out of gold. It was a god that they had seen while in slavery in Egypt. In Exodus 33 Moses climbed a mountain and asked that God show him his glory. God came, not showing him his face, but covered Moses with his hand until he had passed, and then removed his hand so that Moses saw only his back. Moses was a man who wanted God, who wanted the real thing, as uncertain and mysterious as it may be.

In times of delay, in times of fear, we can either resort to a familiarity, or we can step into this journey of discovering God in all his ambiguity. Though we’ll never fully grasp him, will we still want him? Though we may not see his face, will we still trust him? Though it’s uncertain, will we still follow him?

Most people are afraid that God isn’t who they think he is. I write this to say that it is much safer to go on the journey of finding something real than it is to settle for something familiar.  

God loves authenticity.

I have a few days left in Hawaii, and in less than two weeks I’ll be in Dubai. This unreasonable attempt at following God is about to hit a climax. And the tendency, as always, is to find a solid footing. How I wish God would give me step by step instructions or a clear confirmation. I long for concreteness. But it’s here that again I am stretched. That I’m forced to release the controls. That I must embrace the discomfort, and journey through uncertainty, trusting in the indistinct leading of God.

This is where I must lean into a God who I love though I do not see and believe in though I do not comprehend.