Searching for God Knows What

I've been reading the Donald Miller book Searching for God Knows What during my morning transit. If you've never read Blue Like Jazz, you should, it will change your life. It provides a reasoned and enlightened perspective on how to be a Christian in the world today. I read it a few years ago and came to the realization that the real gospel is not being right or knowing facts about God and the Bible, or even about adhering to specific doctrine. The gospel is a love story; story of grace, forgiveness, courage, and relationship. It challenged my whole idea of what it meant to be a Christian. Other than C.S. Lewis, Donald Miller has to be my favorite theologian.

I started Searching for God Knows What anticipating a similar experience.

I'm about half-way through right now, and I already know I'm going to have to read it again with pen and paper in hand so I can really process everything Miller has to say. It's good stuff, and I really want to get my head around it.

What I love about reading Miller is that he converses with his reader in a casual, vulnerable way. He's painfully honest at times; discussing those secret selfish desires people hold in the dark places of their hearts. This really resonates with me, and I believe it would strike anyone who grew up faithfully in the church only to realize later in life that it was just another measuring stick within a social hierarchy. So many people waste so much time hiding their sins, and then condemn someone else who confesses to the same problem. I was fortunate enough (though it felt completely opposite at the time) to lose any sense of self-righteousness when I was still in high school. I really take joy from that experience now because I believe it made me more capable of loving people. The experience made me more compassionate, more gracious; and I am truly thankful for that lesson, no matter how painful.

One of the most prevalent analogies Miller uses is the lifeboat scenario. You know this illustration: you are in a lifeboat with a group of people, you must decide who gets thrown overboard in order to keep the boat afloat. Everyone on board is subject to evaluation and comparison, and he/she that is found least valuable is tossed out to sea. Miller uses this analogy to describe the type of world in which we live. Think about it, we are always comparing ourselves to other people to see if rank above or below them on the social ladder. We place so much emphasis on how we look, what we own, careers, money, etc. so that we can demonstrate our value to the other people on the lifeboat, and thus secure a spot on board.

The main point of this illustration, and of the book so far, is that we are relational people. We need someone to love and affirm us in order to understand our own worth. That's the interesting thing about relationships. If we are surrounded by people who consistently affirm our value and demonstrate love, we feel whole, secure. Miller admits that this all sounds weak and co-dependent. There's an established belief in American culture that we need to be independent, believe in ourselves, and rely on our own knowledge of ourselves to develop confidence. But really, where does that first indication of value come from? It comes from some one telling and demonstrating to you that you are worth loving. Personally, I flourish in situations where people tell me that I am valued. For example, I have rarely enjoyed a job as much as I enjoy my current position. It has absolutely nothing to do with the actual tasks I am performing, and everything to do with the fact that the people I work for and with appreciate me. I walk in the door, and I hear "Kelly!" as though they are so glad and relieved that I am there. It's a nice feeling to be wanted. It does give me a sense of worth, a sense of security. These people won't throw me overboard. So I look forward to going to work everyday.

What is really interesting though, is that this sense of worth and security has enabled me to demonstrate to others that I appreciate them. I'm not afraid of earning someone's favor, because I already feel valued, so I can love more freely and give more generously.

The point, though, really, is not so much that we need other people to make us feel good about ourselves. What we really need is a relationship with God. Miller quotes "his friend" John MacMurray in stating, "the most unselfish thing that a God who is truly loving could do is to create beings to enjoy Himself." If God is completely loving, and all the while indiscriminant with who he loves, then the best thing he could do is share that love.

Another interesting thing that Miller brings up is that what we often feel as "love" is more the desire for the person toward whom those feelings are directed (or with whom they're connected) to love us. It's not really genuine desire to make that person happy or fulfilled or even to enjoy their company and know them completely, but rather we want them to affirm us. The more I thought about this, the more I realized how selfish I have been in my relationships. I often say "I love you" hoping that someone will say it back. Not just that, but I do or say other things to gain their approval or affection. I don't want to be selfish in my relationships anymore. I want to tell people I love them and truly mean it. So what does that mean anyway. More on that later.