Being Held by God

I had a conversation with an archbishop yesterday, which makes my life sound more important than it is. In reality, we’re blessed to have a retired archbishop serving as an “assistant” to our active bishop who is able to expand the pastoral reach of the upper echelons of churchly hierarchy. Which is a complicated way of saying that I benefit from the care and wisdom of two pastoral leaders when many clergy may barely have one in their particular Anglican milieu.

We talked about two things: my ordination to the priesthood, and the state of my spirit. He didn’t quite phrase the second part that way, but I do recall the bluntness with which he asked: “How are you keeping up hope?” My answer, off-the-cuff, was not a good one. I did attempt to point to how I think, in this spiritual tradition, I am thankful that I am surrounded by others who uphold this hope for me.

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A post shared by @orthodoxheart

A couple months ago, I came across an Instagram post that exhibited a quote from St. Ambrose of Optina. I can’t actually verify where this quote originated, especially since I’m not particularly versed in nineteenth-century Orthodox saints—if you’re a wizard and actually know, please tell me. “Everyone is born at the time that is best suited for [their] salvation.” An interesting sentiment, perhaps almost self-evidently true. In the caption of the post, however, the account-master notes that St. Paisios held similarly: that no matter how we are experiencing life and time, God has given it to us to be more like God.

I have been thinking about this ever since seeing that post. Archbishop Colin brought this to the forefront of my mind again when he reminded me (if I ever really knew, perhaps) that it’s most difficult in life to sit and be held by God.

I’ve shared in earlier posts how I don’t feel much anger toward God, but that does leave a gap where I’m left attempting to ascertain what my positional arrangement is with God. Having arguments with God is still talking to God, even if I don’t want to listen. I joked with my partner once that I think part of being in a relationship with this particular God is being able to, at the same time, make one of those cute heart symbols that Gen Z/A/whoever is younger than me make with their fingers, and in the next beat raising two defiant middle fingers toward the heavens.

Photo by Ashlee Brown on Unsplash

It doesn’t strike me as all that different from a toddler ramping up both frequency and pitch in defiance of being held aloft, carried somewhere that is decidedly not the mess of cables behind the television. I don’t think—in a truly loving parent-child context—that the toddler is consciously thinking about physical power dynamics here. Toddlers are capable of great acts of wriggling and maneuvering.

With that relationship of self-giving love established, I would still rather be held than not. If it is true that in being held by God I will become more like God, then perhaps I will try not to resist so much.