Am I in the Wrong Place to Find God?

According to This I Am

A billboard caught my eye the other day. It reads:

Looking for GOD in All the Wrong Places? Meet HIM! Sundays at 9:30

Gotta love the strategic use of caps.

My ADHD brain switches to cartoon mode, as it often does when I see something like this. I picture a gringo Jesus (because we know he was Caucasian, right?) wearing his white robe, greeting people at the front door. “Welcome! My name is Jesus. You are in the RIGHT place! Restrooms are on the left, offering box to the left. And remember, people, tithing is on the gross!”

I giggle to myself at the absurdity of my imaginings.

But then my thoughts turn to more philosophical musings.

What exactly is a “wrong” place with God?

My years of Bible study spits up a verse.

Psalm 139:7&8
Where can I go from your Spirit?
Where can I flee from your presence?
8 If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.

That Psalm is pretty clear God is everywhere. And I didn’t see a little asterisk to exclude “wrong places.”

Once again, I am reminded of the deep and abiding disconnect I have with organized religion. Of course, the intended message of this billboard is to encourage people to come to church in order to encounter the divine.

What about opening the eyes of people to the truth that God is everywhere? That there is no “wrong” place?

Since leaving organized religion, I have found more God (and if you are uncomfortable with my use of the word God, that is totally okay. Replace it with Love) to be way bigger, kinder, and more inclusive than most any depictions offered from a pulpit.

I see God on Facebook reels when I see fellow humans sharing a message of hope and love with no strings attached.

I see God in the twinkle of the smiling eyes of the dear child inhabiting a broken body.

I see God when I see a flower growing in the rock crevice.

I sense God’s presence when I feel compassion for those suffering: the addicts, the forgotten, the impoverished.

Is a chemo chair a wrong place? Hardly. While poison was pumping through my system, I encountered God. He came to me dressed as a nurse. And a chaplain. And another scared cancer patient.

The bottom of a bottle of whiskey? Yep. Love’s abiding is present and accounted for.

When there are acts of war and cruelty? Surely *this* is a wrong place.

Nope. God is underneath the collapsed building. God is holding the mother who is holding her dead child. He is with the displaced and the suffering.

Come to find out, God is more ubiquitous than Roy Kent even. (Hat tip to the wonderful series Ted Lasso on Apple TV.)

“Love is the physical structure of the universe.” Teilhard de Chardin Photo Credit: Thomas Vajda

Remember Nightbirde? She was the dear young woman on America’s Got Talent who stole our hearts with her song, “It’s OK”. Cancer eventually overtook her at the age of 31.

Something she said has stuck with me.

“If you can’t see him, look lower. God is on the bathroom floor.”

This so deeply resonated with me as this has been my experience these past few years of divorce and cancer treatment.

Western Christianity is fond of the Conquering Christ imagery and the blessings-means-financial-success model. It is all very appealing to the ego. And all so contrary to what Jesus or other spiritual leaders taught and modeled.

Might the “wrong” place actually be this sort of thinking? This flavor of religion?

I mean wrong as in, not helpful. Irrelevant. One thing I continue to work on is dismantling the wrong/right black and white thinking.

When we subscribe to that thinking, it requires an adversarial relationship. I am right and you, you simpleton, are wrong. This is the shit thinking that, when scaled, turns to war. No understanding of the other person. No nuance. Just set up your small-minded camp and reinforce the boundaries!

This is a wrong place. This is a right place.

There is a better way.

I rather prefer thinking in terms of is it working or nonworking?

I used to think my black and white thinking has yielded to shades of gray as I have aged. (Not just talking about my hair color.)

Instead, I prefer to think my black and white tendencies are yielding to vibrant colors.

It’s a slow process. Releasing the ego’s grip from the illusion of certainty feels scary. Even when we understand, certainty IS an illusion.

There is no certainty. Only an invitation to recognize God’s/Love’s presence. If we allow this work of transformation, it will reconnect us with our divine nature and allow us to see it in others as well.

And there is no wrong place for that.

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