The Practice of Telling God What You Want

Twelve years ago my role changed at the church I was working at. I had been working as a College Director and because of reorganization and the birth of my daughter, I found my name wiped off the staff roster. I had a baby and then I didn’t have a job at the church. There were a few reasons for this that made sense. And a few that felt quite cruel. When I cried out in complaint and frustrations about it, one of the pastors told me my new job was to take care of my baby. I think he was trying to console me, but it infuriated me.

I proceeded to fall into a dark mess of confusion. For the next several months I sat in the balcony at my church and cried. Ministry and church work were my favorite things. I loved being in the center of all the excitement, making a difference in people’s lives, and I loved to preach. I absolutely loved to preach. At twenty-six I felt like I had hit my sweet spot and someone ripped it away from me.

At first I tried to call some of the leaders and get some recognition for my work and figure out if someone could get my job back for me, to no avail. Then, I scrambled to find a new job somewhere else, but my husband was on staff at the church, so that made it harder. We couldn’t exactly work at different churches and there was the issue of me being just slightly postpartum and maybe, just maybe, a little crazy and off kilter. All the while, I was crying and raging to God like a child throwing a tantrum, arms flailing and feet stomping. I was so pissed off. It took months to get to a place where God and I could have a normal conversation about the whole thing. I hate injustice and this felt like injustice on every side. I felt powerless and mad and like something good had been stolen from me and I didn’t know how to get it back.

Finally, after a lot of clenched fists and tears, I started having an authentic conversation with God about it. It had to do with letting go, which I didn’t want to do … Letting go is so hard, isn’t it? Especially when it happens on someone else’s terms. And yet, even in that, God is mysteriously good. So, I told him how sad I was and how much I loved the job and how I felt forgotten. Over time, my heart opened enough to remember that God loves me and even if powerful people forget me and overlook me and even wrong me, He is with me, with strategies to help me.

One afternoon, I went on a long walk, which gave me a lot of time to complain. I walked and ranted. I like to imagine myself having conversations with the people I’m mad at, where I say the things I would never in a million years say to them if they were actually standing there. It helps me find my thoughts and let off some steam. So, there I was yelling at invisible people, when I heard God ask me something.

The thing about hearing God is that it’s kind of crazy in and of itself, isn’t it? I hear this voice that comes on my right side, right by my ear, and while it’s outside of me, it’s also inside of me. The whole thing is strange. And yet, I’ve been hearing and listening to that voice since I was seventeen years old. It has a weightiness to it that I find, well, weighty. I realize not everyone hears God this way and is uncomfortable with such certainty. There was about a year, just recently, when I didn’t hear that voice one single time. Which really pissed me off and confirmed that at least, I wasn’t making it up. But that’s another story.

Anyways, so I’m walking and ranting and raving when I hear God’s voice. And the voice asked me a question. Tina, what do you want? 

Are you kidding me? What do I want? Haven’t you been listening? I want my job back.  

Are you sure that’s what you want? 

I paused, reflected honestly about it. No, actually I don’t really want my job anymore.

What do you want? 

That was the question the Creator of the Universe wanted to know. Don’t you know what I want? I thought you knew everything?

What do you want? 

Fine. I’ll tell you what I want. Money! Enough money to feel safe.

Then I got serious. I wanted my kids to know feel their value and have a good life. I wanted to do something significant with my life. I wanted to get to know my neighbors. I wanted peace in my heart and home. I wanted to pray for things that really matter and feel like God hears me. I wanted to love my friends well and have rich relationships. I wanted to travel and live in other places. I wanted to be less afraid of failure and more willing to take risks.

Deep calls unto deep … as I told God what I wanted, one by one, naming my desires, each want, each desire got more focused, more authentic, more honest. Until I finally hit the one thing. It was there all along. But life had gotten in the way. Smaller dreams had filled in its place: pressing obligations, church culture, performance, fear of failure … But after an hour of lifting my heart’s cries up to God there it was, sitting at the bottom gazing up at me like we were long lost friends. As I stared into the bottom of my heart, I smiled. Of course. There it is. I know exactly what I want…

I want to write. I really want to write. It’s what I’ve wanted to do for years.

And then I heard God’s voice again. A softer version, almost like God was smiling at me.

The voice said… I want you to write.

So, I did. Every day.

I found the one thing that would ground me and sustain me and consistently call me back to myself and to my God.

What do you want? I’d like to hear …