23 Being Honest About Disappointment

What do you do with the loneliness of disappointment? 

None of us can escape disappointment. It's part of the human condition. We all know the hollow loneliness that accompanies it. 

But what do we do with it? Do we ignore it, stuffing it down deep inside us somewhere, hoping it will never resurface again? 

Or do we boldly look it in the face, name it for what it is, and talk to God about it? 

In this entry, Kate and Jessica step into the often murky waters of THEODICY, which at its most basic form is a "philosophical and/or theological theory which attempts to explain how a good God could create a world containing so much evil." 

Of course, Kate and Jessica are going to advocate for praying in situations like this. (As do I!) 

But what kind of prayer is best? 

According to Father James Martin - whom Kate posed this exact question to - "Prayer begins with acts of unbridled honesty. God, this isn't enough. God, I can barely make it through the hour" (p 136). 

We think it would be lovely if, as the book says, the world was run by formulas: I am good therefore I will thrive. I am loving therefore no one will leave me. 

But a quick look at the world around us -- wildfires out West, a mass shooting in a Buffalo grocery story, a shooting at a church in California, my gentle friend's scary and confusing messages about the neurological problems he's having as part of post-surgery complications -- and we can see there is no formula at work. 

Aside from donating money to these tragedies and checking in on my friend, prayer is the only other thing I can do for them. And probably the best thing I can do for them. 

But before I get to "all the good things that can come from prayer -  trust, acceptance, connection, occasional miracles," first comes radical honesty. 

As Kate says, "The more genuine our prayers, the more freedom there is to acknowledge the reality of all a life with God can be." 

Since my own major health crisis, my prayers have gotten more honest. MUCH more honest, to tell the truth. The book of Psalms is full of laments, and I have gotten to know them well: 

How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me?  (Psalm 13:1)

Since I led my first retreat on prayer, many moons ago, I have always advocated for people to be honest with God in their prayers. God can take it. God has heard it all. You're not going to upset God or shock God or scare God away. 

And I love how Kate and Jessica end this entry: 

" ... tell God. All of it. Fiercely. Even the unanswered prayers. Don't leave out a single one. Even if you sit among the broken things and your confidence seems to shrink with each day, know that you may feel lonely but you are not alone" (p 136). 

Blessed are you, dear one, when you don't know if you can pray. Because even that very thought is the beginning of prayer, whether you know it or not (p 137). 

Pastor Allison 

I'm curious: 

I notice that I am increasingly interested in people who have a high level of self-awareness and understanding. Sometimes that's due to natural emotional intelligence. Sometimes it's the result of intense spiritual self-examination, sometimes under the influence of a spiritual director. Often, it's the result of a good therapist. 

Whatever the source, I can't help but think radical honesty is at the heart of it all. 

In some sermon a couple of months ago, I shared this quote (by Ruth Haley Barton, I think):  "You'd be surprised what your soul wants to say to God right now." 

What does your soul want to say to God - right here and right now? 

Check out "A Good Enough Step" on page 139 - "When was the last time you let yourself be honest with God? Really, radically, honest. Not just in your disappointments, but in your hopes too. What do you hope for that you are afraid to say aloud out of the fear of being disappointed? ... Tell God everything. ... Settle in. Take a deep breath. Trust that God hears, that God hasn't left your side. God can handle it all."