Underneath the circus of my outer me is a contemplative man. Actually, more than contemplative I’m chatty with God. I have always felt God’s presence. Sometimes near, sometimes far, sometimes jumping out from behind a tree and shouting ‘Gotcha!’ And poor old God has had to listen to me as I ask for things and then worry that asking is selfish and therefore a sin and so I ask for the asking to be disregarded and then I start to look at how good I am and that is the sin of pride round and round and round we go in the plate spinning contest of it all. Asking and worrying – not much fun for God to spend time with me, eh?
There was one time God was not present. At least that’s how it felt and it is how I still remember it. I got ill. Or rather ill got me. And got me good. It’s very difficult to describe but imagine feeling nothing. I don’t mean not feeling anything. I mean. FEELING. NOTHING. Becoming emptiness. A void. Being in such a state that hopeless sadness would have been a major step up. Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani and then some. I broke. To be or not to be? Yeah, that’s one hell of a question.
“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it,” said John.
“There is a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in,” said Leonard.
So I came back out of the dark forest cracked but alive. And that’s how God told me to stop babbling and grow up. Now I talk to God and talk with God…I just stopped talking at God.