Just as I was finishing the last post, a weird connection came to mind about my two recent references to Wesley: the Wesley who, in The Princess Bride, says “As you wish” to his beloved Buttercup, and John Wesley, whose Covenant Prayer says “Put me to what thou wilt”. I have been saying, in different forms, “As you wish” to both H and to God. And in neither case does it seem that my eagerness to serve has been honoured.
Now I’ll have to go away and think about what that means …
—Nat.
Monday 23 January 2012
Sunday 22 January 2012
God gave me a stone
In Carrion Comfort, Hopkins alludes to a Biblical passage in which Jacob wrestles overnight with a stranger. Neither can get the upper hand, but Jacob is left with a limp. Hopkins interprets Jacob’s struggle as a metaphor for his own, and in the morning after the struggle, both Jacob and Hopkins understand that at its core their struggle was with God.
It will be clear to readers of this blog that I approach my failed marriage from a Christian perspective, and yet that presents more of a challenge than a comfort. I hope that my story is relevant to all men whose wives have left them, and that my Christian faith does not obstruct a feeling of solidarity about such loss. But each of our stories is unique and it is inevitable that mine is infused with God.
On the surface, the breakdown of a marriage is a struggle between husband and wife, and as I have written before, I have been intensely hurt by H and angry with her mis-use of me. But like Jacob and Hopkins, I recognise that beyond (beneath?) my grief is a struggle with God who also seems to have mis-used me. It seems to me that God has led me into this mess and my anger about the whole situation is directed at God perhaps as much as at H.
Jesus once said “Which of you, if his son asks for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for fish, will give him a snake? If you then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him?” I prayed earnestly for years during my 20’s that God would help me become a good man, fit for the right wife. I was willing to never marry if God saw that to be best for me. When H and I were considering marriage I fasted for 4 (or was it 5?) days because I knew it was such an important decision. But if God guided me at all through that time it was to lead me into a commitment that has ended in this debacle. The marriage God seemed to have given me has been a cold, hard stone that has provided no nourishment.
Jesus also said “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness for they will be satisfied.” I may be arrogant in the extreme, but I claim the same standing as Job who, especially in Chapter 31, claims he is blameless. I have sought after righteousness since early teens. But I am nowhere near satisfied.
I am *not* claiming that since I have been so good (ha!), God owes me something in return. Whether I deserve better or not has no bearing at all. My complaint is that I have not found God’s self-portrayal to be accurate. I have believed in a God who cares for me personally; who has my (and your!) best interests at heart; the good shepherd; the ideal parent. I have entrusted that God with my complete allegiance.
What’s more, I have, at numerous times in my life, given that God permission to do whatever God pleases with me. I have prayed John Wesley’s radical Covenant Prayer and put myself at God’s disposal in many other ways. So perhaps I have only myself to blame.
But why didn’t God warn us before we were married? Why, when H and I had the very best of intentions, did God not mediate between us to fulfil the apparent intention of marriage? Why does it seem that God is now leading H away from me? How can any of that be good for me?
I no longer believe that God looks out for my personal interests. It seems more likely that although God cares for all people, the complexity of reality makes it impossible to bring about everyone’s best interests and in this case I have become the fall guy carrying the consequences of H’s best interest. Of course I write from the limited perspective of someone in the middle of the shit. God can yet bring some good out of it for me, but that’s evidence of God’s ability to redeem even the worst situation, not evidence that this miserable agony is in any way good. God has not delivered what Jesus promised.
—Nat
It will be clear to readers of this blog that I approach my failed marriage from a Christian perspective, and yet that presents more of a challenge than a comfort. I hope that my story is relevant to all men whose wives have left them, and that my Christian faith does not obstruct a feeling of solidarity about such loss. But each of our stories is unique and it is inevitable that mine is infused with God.
On the surface, the breakdown of a marriage is a struggle between husband and wife, and as I have written before, I have been intensely hurt by H and angry with her mis-use of me. But like Jacob and Hopkins, I recognise that beyond (beneath?) my grief is a struggle with God who also seems to have mis-used me. It seems to me that God has led me into this mess and my anger about the whole situation is directed at God perhaps as much as at H.
Jesus once said “Which of you, if his son asks for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for fish, will give him a snake? If you then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him?” I prayed earnestly for years during my 20’s that God would help me become a good man, fit for the right wife. I was willing to never marry if God saw that to be best for me. When H and I were considering marriage I fasted for 4 (or was it 5?) days because I knew it was such an important decision. But if God guided me at all through that time it was to lead me into a commitment that has ended in this debacle. The marriage God seemed to have given me has been a cold, hard stone that has provided no nourishment.
Jesus also said “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness for they will be satisfied.” I may be arrogant in the extreme, but I claim the same standing as Job who, especially in Chapter 31, claims he is blameless. I have sought after righteousness since early teens. But I am nowhere near satisfied.
I am *not* claiming that since I have been so good (ha!), God owes me something in return. Whether I deserve better or not has no bearing at all. My complaint is that I have not found God’s self-portrayal to be accurate. I have believed in a God who cares for me personally; who has my (and your!) best interests at heart; the good shepherd; the ideal parent. I have entrusted that God with my complete allegiance.
What’s more, I have, at numerous times in my life, given that God permission to do whatever God pleases with me. I have prayed John Wesley’s radical Covenant Prayer and put myself at God’s disposal in many other ways. So perhaps I have only myself to blame.
But why didn’t God warn us before we were married? Why, when H and I had the very best of intentions, did God not mediate between us to fulfil the apparent intention of marriage? Why does it seem that God is now leading H away from me? How can any of that be good for me?
I no longer believe that God looks out for my personal interests. It seems more likely that although God cares for all people, the complexity of reality makes it impossible to bring about everyone’s best interests and in this case I have become the fall guy carrying the consequences of H’s best interest. Of course I write from the limited perspective of someone in the middle of the shit. God can yet bring some good out of it for me, but that’s evidence of God’s ability to redeem even the worst situation, not evidence that this miserable agony is in any way good. God has not delivered what Jesus promised.
—Nat
Wednesday 11 January 2012
Carrion Comfort (part 2)
Back in my post about CarrionComfort, I only got as far as commenting on the first four lines. So let me
pick up that theme again.
Here’s Hopkins' complete poem (virtually guaranteed to confuse and perhaps bore any but the English majors among you) and my very poor attempt at a paraphrase (virtually guaranteed to annoy the English majors).
Make sure you read the first verse loudly, with anger. It voices the defiance of every human against the burden of existence and against the God who causes, or at least allows, our suffering.
I won’t attempt any more detailed exposition, except to note the important allusions to Genesis 32:22-30, Matthew 27:46 and Psalm 22. What I do want to comment on is how I feel mistreated by God through my marriage and its ending, and the impact that is having on my faith. But that’s for the next posting.
—Nat.
Here’s Hopkins' complete poem (virtually guaranteed to confuse and perhaps bore any but the English majors among you) and my very poor attempt at a paraphrase (virtually guaranteed to annoy the English majors).
Make sure you read the first verse loudly, with anger. It voices the defiance of every human against the burden of existence and against the God who causes, or at least allows, our suffering.
Gerard Manly Hopkins
|
Nat Whilk Clerk
|
NOT, I’ll not, carrion
comfort, Despair, not feast on thee;
Not untwist—slack they may
be—these last strands of man
In me ór, most weary, cry I
can no more. I can;
Can something, hope, wish
day come, not choose not to be.
But ah, but O thou terrible,
why wouldst thou rude on me
Thy wring-world right foot
rock? lay a lionlimb against me? scan
With darksome devouring eyes
my bruisèd bones? and fan,
O in turns of tempest, me
heaped there; me frantic to avoid thee and flee?
Why? That my chaff might
fly; my grain lie, sheer and clear.
Nay in all that toil, that
coil, since (seems) I kissed the rod,
Hand rather, my heart lo!
lapped strength, stole joy, would laugh, chéer.
Cheer whom though? the hero
whose heaven-handling flung me, fóot tród
Me? or me that fought him?
O which one? is it each one? That night, that year
Of now done darkness I
wretch lay wrestling with (my God!) my God.
|
To give in to despair is an empty comfort, like feasting
on a rotting corpse. I will not accept that option.
Even though I am hanging on to whatever it means to be
human by no more than an unravelling thread, I WILL NOT let go.
I will not say “I can’t go on”. I can go on.
I can at least take one more step forward. I can last
the night and hope for a better day ahead. I will not give up.
But what the fuck’s going on here? What sadist is
playing this game with me?
What’s the point of kicking the world out of orbit and
sending lions to attack me?
Why stare at my brokenness as though feeding on it, why mock
me lying here like a pile of shit when all I want to do is run away and hide?
[The next day?] Ok, so I can see that suffering builds
character.
I’ve come to accept that principle and although it has
been hard going, I have nevertheless been given strength and joy and even
laughter.
But who should I cheer now that I’ve come out the other side
of such suffering? Do I praise the one in heaven who mistreated me?
Or do I give myself
a cheer for persevering through such mistreatment? Maybe it’s a bit of each.
I survived a godforsaken night that seemed like a year,
fighting an unknown assailant for no apparent … Oh shit! That was God!
|
I won’t attempt any more detailed exposition, except to note the important allusions to Genesis 32:22-30, Matthew 27:46 and Psalm 22. What I do want to comment on is how I feel mistreated by God through my marriage and its ending, and the impact that is having on my faith. But that’s for the next posting.
—Nat.
Monday 9 January 2012
Spoil myself?
Still pondering what I wrote a couple of weeks ago about monogamy. Can anyone tell me what value there is in sexual restraint once the opportunity for a lifelong partnership has been lost?
It seems to me that a large chunk of my reason for being chaste is no longer relevant. Once upon a time I thought my sexual desire would be uniquely expressed with one person; discovered and explored and nurtured and enjoyed and cherished in one contented and sacred relationship. Now I’d rather be chased than chaste :^)
I spent an annoyingly sleepless night wondering what it would be like to spoil myself with a high-class escort: a long night with a professional who knows how to please and able to act as though she enjoyed it. “Spoil myself” of course has a double meaning. It would seem a luxury, a treat. But would it taint or damage me? It doesn’t seem to me that it would – I am already “damaged goods” so to speak. The thought that such an indulgence would cost $3,000 or more is perhaps all that protects me from that option at the moment.
If I met someone else and we decided to marry, would it make a difference if I had numerous previous sexual partners? I think it makes a big difference the first time around – being a virgin allows that first relationship to be unique in the total giving of one’s body to the other. But now? Would either I or my imagined future partner be concerned if there had been 2 or 3 or 10 before?
—Nat
It seems to me that a large chunk of my reason for being chaste is no longer relevant. Once upon a time I thought my sexual desire would be uniquely expressed with one person; discovered and explored and nurtured and enjoyed and cherished in one contented and sacred relationship. Now I’d rather be chased than chaste :^)
I spent an annoyingly sleepless night wondering what it would be like to spoil myself with a high-class escort: a long night with a professional who knows how to please and able to act as though she enjoyed it. “Spoil myself” of course has a double meaning. It would seem a luxury, a treat. But would it taint or damage me? It doesn’t seem to me that it would – I am already “damaged goods” so to speak. The thought that such an indulgence would cost $3,000 or more is perhaps all that protects me from that option at the moment.
If I met someone else and we decided to marry, would it make a difference if I had numerous previous sexual partners? I think it makes a big difference the first time around – being a virgin allows that first relationship to be unique in the total giving of one’s body to the other. But now? Would either I or my imagined future partner be concerned if there had been 2 or 3 or 10 before?
—Nat
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