I read this really amazing article (above) about being there for people after they have had a trauma. It is called “The Art of Presence.” There was mention about unwarranted optimism and the dangers of using religion to explain everything. You know the lines.
“God has a plan!”
“Everything happens for a reason!”
“there is a purpose to this!”
I have always despised those clichés, especially when going through a rough spot they have a tendency to make me fighting mad. When I had my miscarriage in November my friend said “that it was probably for the best and that it was just a part of God’s plan.” People tell me that I need to just trust Gods plan when it comes to my depression and anxiety or my fibromyalgia.
Nope. Nope. Nope. What a cruel god you believe in if you feel he tortures his people to have them prove faith or strength. The world is random. Sometimes biological mechanisms fail and we have miscarriages and we grow tumors or our immune systems turn against us. Viruses and bacteria invade and tear us down. These things are not acts of God, these things are acts of living on this earth, with these bodies, with these fellow occupants. These are billions of years in the making. It unfortunately makes them hurt no less…not really.
“Theology is a grounding in ultimate hope, not a formula book to explain away each individual event.”
I don’t believe in God but I can’t deny that kind of beauty. That is what theology is all about.
It’s just stunning to me. Let it comfort you, but not blind you. We so often want someone or something to blame. For it to make sense. I think sometimes our greatest fear would be that it is very simple, and random and there is no greater “sense” to it.
This all being said, I find myself in an incredibly spiritual place mentally at the moment. It is probably because I am in need of some ‘ultimate hope’ and connection and some forgiveness. When I feel this way I pray to the moon and paint the stars. It sounds weird and it’s not because I think the moon is a god or anything. It’s just….like Van Gogh said,
“It does me good to do difficult things. It does not prevent me from having a terrible need of, shall I say the word – of religion – then I go outside in the night to paint the stars and I dream ever of a picture like this with a group of lively figures of our pals.”