God doesn’t take it personally

I listen to a podcast called Mockingcast. It’s a favorite of mine. Whenever I tell people about it, I feel like it sounds boring. The hosts are one man who is an author and employee of Mockingbird Ministries, a Christian organization that publishes a magazine and books by Christian authors, and a woman and another man who are Episcopal priests. They discuss various writings that they have found or had sent to them. Does that sound boring enough? But I LOVE it. They say:

We come to you every other week to discuss a few of the places where we currently see grace and its absence playing out in unexpected and compelling ways

I hope you’ll try it if you are a podcast listener like me, but my point in this blog entry is what Sarah Condon said in the latest episode I listened to. The three of them discussed that God “plays the long game.”

Here is a clip of what Sarah said. (Don’t you love her Mississippi accent?):

And the transcript:

Sarah:

A thing that we have to remember is that God doesn't take our journey personally.

But God is personally invested in our journey. That's such a beautiful thing.

Dave:

Say that again. Say that again.

Sarah:

God doesn't take our journey personally, but God is personally invested in our journey.

I think about other lowercase G gods, right? Or we think about Roman gods and they took everything personally. You know what I mean? Like if you went from adoration of one to another, that one was gonna punish you. I mean, that was just the reality of it, and, you know, this God that we serve mostly just serves us. Let's be honest, this God knows that 25 years is going to be just fine for you to not show up at church.

Do you know what I mean? Like, it's not gonna, not gonna take it personally. Like it's this God is just…our God is such a meemaw to me. And, you know, like, “I’m just in the kitchen, got some food whenever you're gonna show up, would love for you to visit more,” but loves it when you do.

Does it sound as remarkable to you as it does to me for someone to say, “God doesn’t take [your] journey personally?” What? I thought Jesus was my personal Savior. What do you mean he doesn’t take my journey personally?

Whenever I hear stuff about not taking things personally, I think of a scene in the movie “You’ve Got Mail” between the characters Joe and Kathleen:

Joe Fox:

It wasn't...personal.

Kathleen Kelly:

What is that supposed to mean? I am so sick of that. All that means is that it wasn't personal to you. But it was personal to me. It's *personal* to a lot of people. And what's so wrong with being personal, anyway?

Joe Fox:

Uh, nothing.

Kathleen Kelly:

Whatever else anything is, it ought to begin by being personal.

I so sympathize with what Kathleen said! When something happens to me, it is personal.

The point in the sentence “God doesn't take our journey personally, but God is personally invested in our journey…” is not about me or even another human being—it’s about God. God doesn’t take it personally.

The discussion in the podcast starts with reading a piece where the author says a person had experienced trauma in the church and was unable to attend church for 25 years. They just couldn’t. I think of a comparison to having that happen to me. Let’s say someone who I thought was a friend was very hurt by something that happened (I think in this example, it makes sense to think it happened in my home or vicinity but wasn’t a direct result of something I said or did), and that friend could/would not be in contact with me for 25 years. I think it would be hard not to take it personally. It would be hard not to think that my love for that friend should have overcome the hurt, especially after that long a time, and enabled her to be with me again.

Sarah Condon uses the example of “small G gods.” I know very little about myths and other gods, but I have a beautiful graphic novel, The Odyssey, by Gareth Hinds, based on Homer’s poem. The “small G gods” in that poem certainly took it personally when humans showed admiration for other gods. It’s hard to get a good picture of it, but the page below shows the god Cyclops throwing a boulder onto Odysseus’ ship in anger. Gods like that took it very personally!

By saying that God does not take it personally, I think Sarah means that God is not hurt by it, the way my feelings would be hurt if my friend abandoned me for 25 years. Or God is not angry or jealous or revengeful about it. God will not punish me or try to make sure I know that I should not have done whatever I did. Beyond that, God understands. He forgives me even if I never ask.

This “not taking it personally” concept goes along with the "detachment " idea prominent in the Jesuit tradition. St. Ignatius, who founded the Society of Jesus, which we call Jesuits, encouraged us to strive for “ordered attachments.” Here is a quote from Ignatius:

We appreciate and use all these gifts of God insofar as they help us grow as loving persons. But if any of these gifts or concerns become the center of our lives, they displace God and so hinder our growth toward God.

The hardest place for me to practice this detachment is with my love and relationship with my adult children. I love them so much that I very easily let my concerns for their lives “become the center of [my] life,” and because I’m a mom, and it’s out of LOVE, it seems like having their lives be the center of my life is a good thing. It’s what a mom is supposed to do, right?

But the truth is, putting that concern in the center of my life is displacing God. God and my “growth toward God” cannot be at the center if something else is. (There are plenty of other reasons for not letting my concern about them be the center of my life—including, not at all insignificantly, the fact that my concern, or more truthfully, my worry, does not help change anything and often makes it worse.)

Isn’t the second part of Sarah Condon’s sentence awesome, though?

But God is personally invested in our journey.

It does not mean God doesn’t love me. If I am not obsessively worrying about my children, it is not because I don’t love them. It does not even mean God doesn’t care about me (or I do not care about my children). God loves me and cares very much. He is personally invested in my journey!

There is another part of the recorded clip that I love, too. She says, “God is such a meemaw to me.” (Meemaw is Southern slang (or “an affectionate term” for Grandma.) Another metaphor for God. God is my grandma.

God…our father, our mother, our shepherd, our hen under whose wings we shelter, our eagle who hovers over us, our grandpa, our grandma…loves you.