My pondering place.
That is not quite accurate. It's more like I talk at God, and then God lets me sit there and stew for a bit. God and I have a strange relationship.
Last evening, it was time for one of those talks at God. That is not quite accurate, either. It was time to complain at God. When I feel something is going wrong, I feel like Job felt after all those awful things happened to him. In that moment, I feel like Job. I am Job. I feel no remorse in the moment that I have equated my petty problems with Job losing all his children and wealth, sitting in a pile of ashes scratching himself with a potsherd. That is totally me. And I will quote Job's same line to God, as if God hadn't heard it the first time with Job, or that God would now be moved to answer differently after he sees how bad I have it.
I would lay out my case before him and fill my mouth with arguments. I would know with what words he would answer me, and understand what he would say to me. Would he contend with me with great power? No, he would only pay attention to me. There an upright person could present his case before him, and I would be delivered forever from my judge.
~Job 23.4-7 (NET)
It was late at night, almost midnight, and I made the trek to my pondering spot which is about a mile from where I live. I just walk north up a suburban street until I reach the river and then follow the river to the pondering rock. It's not that I have to go to this specific place to talk with God. He's everywhere, right? This is more for my benefit. It eliminates all the other things that might distract me from properly complaining.
After I reached the river and made my way to my pondering rock, I looked up at the night sky and noticed that the stars were obscured by total cloud cover. God wasn't going to play the make-Eric-feel-insignificant-in-the-face-of-the-seemingly-infinite-universe card tonight. He probably didn't think my complaint was worth unfurling the heavens.
I sat on my rock, and I gave God a chance to talk. I always give him a chance to explain himself before I start on my complaints. He's never taken the opportunity, but you never know, right?
So after God doesn't speak, I start to speak. It doesn't really matter what my problem was this particular time (it never really matters). But after I finished God still did not talk. He let me sit there...
...and sit there...
...and continue to sit there...
...until finally I come to a realization that I knew the answer. In fact, the answer had been staring at me in the face the entire week. And I suddenly felt stupid, inconsiderate and arrogant in the face of the Almighty God.
So I said a quick apology and returned home. He doesn't say anything back, but I imagine it would be something like, "See you next week, Eric."
I told you God and I have a strange relationship.
