Again, But With Feeling

In Matthew, Jesus says, “Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you” (Matthew 7:7).

I read this a few weeks ago and thought, that is so not my experience with God. My experience is more appropriately summarized in a slightly altered John Green quote: “[God] is not a wish granting factory” (The Fault in Our Stars).

Lots of things I’ve prayed for did happen. My sister was safe on her mission. I got into grad school. My friends received some measure of healing. I received comfort. People were safe traveling, and I found friends. But these notebooks are also things I prayed for and didn’t get, including grad schools I didn’t get into and nights I didn’t feel comfort and friends I lost.

It’s worth noting that Jesus does not seem to promise that we will get what we will ask for, find what we look for, or that the door we’re knocking on will be the one that opens. Although Jesus does say “it” shall be given and “it” shall be opened, these pronouns don’t have an antecedent, at least in the English (Matthew 7:7). Verbs, not nouns, come before the pronouns, making it grammatically unclear whether or not the things that are asked for are the things that are given.

In New Seeds of Contemplation, Thomas Merton says, “In order to know and love God as He is, we must have God dwelling in us in a new way… not only in His greatness but in His littleness, by which He empties Himself and comes down to be empty in our emptiness and so fill us in His fullness” (40).

One of the interesting things about mystics like Merton is that they push metaphors until they break down. All metaphors break down, of course, but most of us try to keep our metaphors in tact, to stop before they crumble. Mystics, though, they just plow through. They want to make sure you know that the words they’re using aren’t the reality they’re trying to communicate. “God’s bigger than the words,” they’re saying. “Stop getting hung up on them.” In The Cloud of Unknowing, the unknown author spends whole chapters discussing how when he says “up” towards God, he doesn’t really mean up, and when he says “in” towards ourselves, he doesn’t really mean in. Merton is more concise in his unraveling: God empties Himself to come to us in our emptiness and in His emptiness fills us.

“Fills us with what?” I ask the text. “You said He’s empty?”

“Exactly,” Merton says. “You’re getting it.”

I’m really not getting it.

Hunger, Bread and Stone

Emptiness and Wordlessness, In a Good Way