What would happen to our freedom if God, our perfect lover, were to appear before us with such objective clarity that all our doubts disappeared? We would experience a kind of love, to be sure, but it would be love like a reflex. Almost without thought, we would fix all our desires upon this Divine Object, try to grasp and possess it, addict ourselves to it. I think God refuses to be an object for attachment because God desires full love, not addiction. Love born of true freedom, love free from attachment, requires that we search for deepening awareness of God, just as God freely reaches out to us.
In addition, full love for God means we must turn to God over and against other things. If our choice of God is to be made with integrity, we must first have felt other attractions and chosen, painfully, not to make them our gods. True love, then, is not only born of freedom; it is also born of difficult choice. A mature and meaningful love must say something like, "I have experienced other goodnesses, and they are beautiful, but it is You, my true heart's desire, whom I choose above all." We have to turn away before we can come home with dignity.
...We may begin to reclaim our primary desire for God. Like the prodigal, we may choose to come home. But at this point, after years of displacing desire and of adapting to addictions elsewhere, home will not seem normal. Thus we respond to God's homeward call with a mixture of hope and fear. Something in us knows that this home is where we belong, but in many ways it also feels like alien territory. The journey homeward, the process of homemaking in God involves withdrawal from addictive behaviors that have become normal for us. In withdrawal, attachments are lessened, and their energy is freed for simpler, purer desire and care. In other words, human desire is freed for love. Constance FitzGerald puts it this way: "In the process of affective redemption, desire is not suppressed or destroyed, but gradually transferred, purified, transformed, set on fire. We go through the struggles and ambiguities of human desire to integration and personal wholeness."
...What we lose in homecoming is not the objects of our attachment, nor even our care for them. In fact, our care grows towards true love, love that sees and appreciates all things in the world for what they are. What we lose is the attachment itself, the strength of our addictive behavior in relationship to these objects, the way we make gods of them. But we feel no real consolation when we experience the inevitable withdrawal symptoms that accompany letting go our attachments. There is real pain here. If I am a heroin addict in withdrawal, I will not be consoled by knowing that heroin will still exist in the world after I withdraw from it. What I want, and what I am losing, is the use of it. Similarly, if I am withdrawing from addiction to a relationship or possession, it will not ease my sense of loss to know that the person or thing will continue to be present in my life or in my heart. I will not even want to hear that my love will be stronger if I let it go. What I cling to most is my use, my idolization of that person or thing.
The loss of attachment is the loss of something very real; it is physical. We will resist this loss as long as we possibly can. When withdrawal does happen, it will hurt. And, after it is over, we will mourn. Only then, when we have completed the grieving over our lost attachment, will we breathe the fresh air of freedom with appreciation and gratitude.
...One of the most powerful and potentially frightening realizations is that there is no new normality of freedom to replace the old ones of addiction. As I have said, there can be no addiction to the true God because God refuses to be an object. God is more with us, more intimate, more steady than anything else in life. God is our ever-present Creator, Sustainer, and Redeemer. God is the one completely passionate and faithful Lover of our lives. And yet, God is never "normal."
...But addiction to a religious system, like addiction to anything else, brings slavery, not freedom. The structures of religion are meant to mediate God's self-revelation through community; they are not meant to be substitute gods. Doctrine of belief, rules of life, standards of conduct, and reliance on Scripture are all essential aspects of an authentic spiritual life. Sacraments are special means of grace; God acts through them with great power. All these things are vehicles for God's love, but addiction to them makes them obstacles to the freedom of our own hearts.
-Addiction & Grace, Chapter 5. Spirit: The Theological Nature of Addiction, Gerald May
"What we lose in homecoming is not the objects of our attachment, nor even our care for them. In fact, our care grows towards true love, love that sees and appreciates all things in the world for what they are. What we lose is the attachment itself, the strength of our addictive behavior in relationship to these objects, the way we make gods of them."
Is this true love? Is this what You ask of me oh God?
Not that I should cease loving Bea but cease my attachment to her?
Will my love be stronger if I let her go?
What shape will my love for her take?
I will not be a place for her to rest.
I will not be a place for her to laugh uncontrollably.
I will not be a place for her to weep.
I will not be a place for her to express.
What shape then will my love for her take?
How can love grow stronger through release?
How can there be reconciliation if both sides "let go?"
How can redemption take place?
What if the Father "let go" when the prodigal walked out?
Am I not to shadow that same love?
That painful, heart demolishing, vulnerable love, which stands by the road with it's gaze fixed upon the path which she might return?
Am I not, upon sight of her return, to make haste towards her placing rings upon her fingers and begging for her forgiveness for the sins I've committed against her?
Or in this sense am I not to stand by the road waiting but rather to take chase?
Am I to pursue love?
Here I sit another day passes as I seek Your will.
Another day her heart closes more fully towards me.
Another day my arms long to hold her tightly.
Wait
let go
pursue
I trust you Jesus
Soften her heart
Maybe she needs more time
Maybe we need more time
Maybe I'm delusional
I wonder does she even miss me?
Does she miss my embrace?
Does she miss our talks?
Does she miss seeing me?
Does she miss our dreams?
Does she even miss me?
God did you really tell her it's good for us to not have any sort of contact?
Did I hear You wrong Saturday?
Where are You right now?
I told Brian about this weekend and how I poured out my heart in that blue notebook. I told him how Toni made me read it to her, how she asked me to pour out the vulnerability to her only to find that Bea would want nothing to do with my heart. He said maybe that was the point. For me to get it out and to express it with pen and paper, express it with words and tears but not to Bea.
Is that why You told me to pursue and her to dismiss?
Then why do I still love her?
What is the next step?
Play Crack the Sky - Brand New
Your tongue is a rudder.
It steers the whole ship.
Sends your words past your lips
Or keeps them safe behind your teeth.
But the wrong words will strand you.
Come off course while you sleep.
Sweep your boat out to sea
Or dashed to bits on the reef.
In addition, full love for God means we must turn to God over and against other things. If our choice of God is to be made with integrity, we must first have felt other attractions and chosen, painfully, not to make them our gods. True love, then, is not only born of freedom; it is also born of difficult choice. A mature and meaningful love must say something like, "I have experienced other goodnesses, and they are beautiful, but it is You, my true heart's desire, whom I choose above all." We have to turn away before we can come home with dignity.
...We may begin to reclaim our primary desire for God. Like the prodigal, we may choose to come home. But at this point, after years of displacing desire and of adapting to addictions elsewhere, home will not seem normal. Thus we respond to God's homeward call with a mixture of hope and fear. Something in us knows that this home is where we belong, but in many ways it also feels like alien territory. The journey homeward, the process of homemaking in God involves withdrawal from addictive behaviors that have become normal for us. In withdrawal, attachments are lessened, and their energy is freed for simpler, purer desire and care. In other words, human desire is freed for love. Constance FitzGerald puts it this way: "In the process of affective redemption, desire is not suppressed or destroyed, but gradually transferred, purified, transformed, set on fire. We go through the struggles and ambiguities of human desire to integration and personal wholeness."
...What we lose in homecoming is not the objects of our attachment, nor even our care for them. In fact, our care grows towards true love, love that sees and appreciates all things in the world for what they are. What we lose is the attachment itself, the strength of our addictive behavior in relationship to these objects, the way we make gods of them. But we feel no real consolation when we experience the inevitable withdrawal symptoms that accompany letting go our attachments. There is real pain here. If I am a heroin addict in withdrawal, I will not be consoled by knowing that heroin will still exist in the world after I withdraw from it. What I want, and what I am losing, is the use of it. Similarly, if I am withdrawing from addiction to a relationship or possession, it will not ease my sense of loss to know that the person or thing will continue to be present in my life or in my heart. I will not even want to hear that my love will be stronger if I let it go. What I cling to most is my use, my idolization of that person or thing.
The loss of attachment is the loss of something very real; it is physical. We will resist this loss as long as we possibly can. When withdrawal does happen, it will hurt. And, after it is over, we will mourn. Only then, when we have completed the grieving over our lost attachment, will we breathe the fresh air of freedom with appreciation and gratitude.
...One of the most powerful and potentially frightening realizations is that there is no new normality of freedom to replace the old ones of addiction. As I have said, there can be no addiction to the true God because God refuses to be an object. God is more with us, more intimate, more steady than anything else in life. God is our ever-present Creator, Sustainer, and Redeemer. God is the one completely passionate and faithful Lover of our lives. And yet, God is never "normal."
...But addiction to a religious system, like addiction to anything else, brings slavery, not freedom. The structures of religion are meant to mediate God's self-revelation through community; they are not meant to be substitute gods. Doctrine of belief, rules of life, standards of conduct, and reliance on Scripture are all essential aspects of an authentic spiritual life. Sacraments are special means of grace; God acts through them with great power. All these things are vehicles for God's love, but addiction to them makes them obstacles to the freedom of our own hearts.
-Addiction & Grace, Chapter 5. Spirit: The Theological Nature of Addiction, Gerald May
"What we lose in homecoming is not the objects of our attachment, nor even our care for them. In fact, our care grows towards true love, love that sees and appreciates all things in the world for what they are. What we lose is the attachment itself, the strength of our addictive behavior in relationship to these objects, the way we make gods of them."
Is this true love? Is this what You ask of me oh God?
Not that I should cease loving Bea but cease my attachment to her?
Will my love be stronger if I let her go?
What shape will my love for her take?
I will not be a place for her to rest.
I will not be a place for her to laugh uncontrollably.
I will not be a place for her to weep.
I will not be a place for her to express.
What shape then will my love for her take?
How can love grow stronger through release?
How can there be reconciliation if both sides "let go?"
How can redemption take place?
What if the Father "let go" when the prodigal walked out?
Am I not to shadow that same love?
That painful, heart demolishing, vulnerable love, which stands by the road with it's gaze fixed upon the path which she might return?
Am I not, upon sight of her return, to make haste towards her placing rings upon her fingers and begging for her forgiveness for the sins I've committed against her?
Or in this sense am I not to stand by the road waiting but rather to take chase?
Am I to pursue love?
Here I sit another day passes as I seek Your will.
Another day her heart closes more fully towards me.
Another day my arms long to hold her tightly.
Wait
let go
pursue
I trust you Jesus
Soften her heart
Maybe she needs more time
Maybe we need more time
Maybe I'm delusional
I wonder does she even miss me?
Does she miss my embrace?
Does she miss our talks?
Does she miss seeing me?
Does she miss our dreams?
Does she even miss me?
God did you really tell her it's good for us to not have any sort of contact?
Did I hear You wrong Saturday?
Where are You right now?
I told Brian about this weekend and how I poured out my heart in that blue notebook. I told him how Toni made me read it to her, how she asked me to pour out the vulnerability to her only to find that Bea would want nothing to do with my heart. He said maybe that was the point. For me to get it out and to express it with pen and paper, express it with words and tears but not to Bea.
Is that why You told me to pursue and her to dismiss?
Then why do I still love her?
What is the next step?
Play Crack the Sky - Brand New
Your tongue is a rudder.
It steers the whole ship.
Sends your words past your lips
Or keeps them safe behind your teeth.
But the wrong words will strand you.
Come off course while you sleep.
Sweep your boat out to sea
Or dashed to bits on the reef.