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A Distant God

by Karen Templin  
5/03/2007 / Devotionals

A Distant God

The year was 1994. I sat in a therapist office in down town St. Augustine. I had been having a few personal problems, and my mother had recommended I seek counseling for what was troubling me.
The therapist's name was Shannon. She was kind and caring, and she seemed to incorporate God into all that we talked about. She had asked if I believed in God, and I said, "Yes, of course, I have always believed in God." On this particular day, she had posed a question that I found quite amusing. "Where is God?" She asked. I looked at her puzzled. "Look around." She gestured, "And tell me, where do you see God."
It didn't take much thought on my part. I immediately pointed towards a large window at the side of the room, over looking the street below the small room on the third floor where we sat.
Shannon raised her eyebrows. "He is standing by the window?" I smiled at how ridiculous her question was. "No." I answered, "He is not standing by the window. He is out there." I pointed toward the sky.
She nodded, "He is outside the window. Can you see Him?" By now I thought her questions were becoming laughable. "No," I shook my head. "I can't see Him." "Why not?" She continued to probe. "How far out there is He? Is He just outside of the window? A mile or two?"
Finally, I laughed out loud as I was totally amused by her questions about God's nearness. "No, He's not right outside the window, or even a mile or two." I giggled. "He's millions and millions of miles away. Out there." I pointed again. "And we can't see Him." I added still puzzled by the ridiculousness of her questions. Sometimes I wondered if He could see us. God was in a far and distant place somewhere out there in the cosmos, and we had no access to Him. "Didn't every one know that?" I thought puzzled.
Now, it was Shannon's turn to look puzzled. "That's funny that you would say that, because I talk to a lot of people, and did you know that many see Him as being much closer, like even in the same room. Others even believe that He is closer than that. Some believe that He actually lives inside our hearts."
I quietly pondered this new concept. Could I have had the wrong idea about God? Was it actually possible that perhaps He might actually walk among us or live inside our hearts? I had never thought about it that way before






I Saw Jesus
My First Dream


I had known about Jesus my whole life, and I had loved Him with great admiration. I had learned about his love as a child, growing up in the Catholic Church.
I can remember as a child in church, standing before the altar, gazing up at the statures of Jesus and Mary, and just being filled with love for them. They seemed so good, and so holy. It was almost like I could feel their very presence in that tiny wooden church on the outskirts of St. Augustine, Florida.
I always enjoyed going to Catechism. I remember the nuns as always caring, and enthusiastic about the teachings of God and Jesus. I always admired them for giving up their whole lives for God, but I also felt a bit of sympathy for them, wondering if they were lonely, since they weren't allowed to marry or have children. They seemed holy to me in their black nuns clothes. Even their heads were covered, exposing only a small of their hair. I sometimes tried to imagine what their hair would look like.
Apart from the love of Jesus, I had also heard about the wrath of God, not from the priest and the nuns at church. I heard stories mostly from the grown ups in my life about God's anger, and if you made Him unhappy, He would send you to the fires of Hell where you will burn forever, and never burn up, so that you will be tortured for all eternity.
I thought about God as a stern man sitting on a throne in the sky. He was very old and very wise. He had long, gray hair, a long, gray beard, and a crinkle in his forehead. His eyebrows were always furrowed with concentration as He scrutinized us.
I always imagined Him, perhaps millions of miles away, sitting on his throne, which He rarely left, in case He should miss catching one of us human beings doing something we shouldn't.
He was watching us intently, but not really feeling a lot of love towards us. Rather, He was waiting for us to mess up and sin. When we did, He would put a red check mark next to our name in his big book of life. If we got enough check marks, He would send us to Hell, that fiery place where we burn for all eternity.
As a child, I can remember saying my prayers every night at bedtime. I would always ask Him for forgiveness of my sins. Not quite certain if my sins were worthy of forgiveness, I often found myself counting up my red check marks, and wondering if I had enough of them to go to Hell yet.
I dropped out of Catechism by about the age of ten. I had made my Holy Communion, and soon, the time had come to study how we would make our confession. The nuns explained how we would go into the confessional with the priest and confess our sins. He would listen and then give us penance. Perhaps we would have to go home and say ten, "Our Fathers", or twelve "Hail Marys". The concept seemed strange to me, to make a confession to a man instead of God Himself, and I wondered if he did have power to forgive our sins since he wasn't God. (I understood later, that the Bible instructs us to confess our sins by mouth.)
As an adult, I was fortunate enough to read, Embraced By The Light, by Betty Eadie. She had met Jesus through a Near Death Experience, and she described how kind and loving He was. What a relief to read her writing! Most of my life I had felt ignored by God. I prayed and felt that my prayers went unanswered. With us being millions and millions of miles apart, I figured He probably didn't even know that I existed, or perhaps He only answered the prayers of people who were truly worthy.
Betty changed my belief that God was unapproachable, and I began to feel more at peace with Him. I continued to pray. Still, I felt that I didn't know how to connect with Him on a personal level, but just knowing that He wasn't out to get me, gave me a feeling that we now co-existed peacefully in the large universe.
Embraced By The Light had a profound effect on my life. I finally understood the kindness and the love of Jesus. My whole perception had changed. I no longer feared God as I did in my childhood.
Several years later, I started to think about what Betty had said about Jesus, and his love. Suddenly, I wanted to know Him better. I already knew about Him, but I wanted to know Him personally. Before this time, I had never understood the concept that it was even possible to know Him.
I started to read everything I could on Near Death Experiences over the Internet, spending hours each morning pouring over stories, hungry for anything I could find out about Him. So many people had met Him personally through their near death experiences, and they described his kindness and love. I was starting to actually see a glimpse of his personality through other people's eyes.
It had become like an uncontrollable desire, my search for Jesus. I don't know how I got to that point in my life. After I had grown up, I got married. I had three children, and the responsibilities of a job and a house. I had not even thought about going to church. I still believed in God, and I prayed sometimes, but it wasn't on a regular basis. Suddenly, I was consumed with thoughts of Jesus, perhaps twenty-four hours a day. It was like the Savior, Himself was beckoning me to Him.
I also read about Sister Faustina. Jesus had instructed her to paint his picture, and include the words, "I Trust In You, Jesus." Being raised in the Catholic Church, I readily believed in dreams and visions, and I had no doubt that Sister Faustina had actually seen the Savior. Knowing these words were important to Him, I began to pray several times a day, "I trust in You, Jesus."
I also read about a woman who had a dream about Jesus. He took her for a walk on the beach, and finally, He laughed, and told her to look down. When she did, they were walking on water. I thought, "How wonderful to walk on water with Jesus!" When I went to bed that night, I prayed, just asking Jesus to let me see Him in a dream like other people had. I figured to see Him in a dream would be the closest I would ever get to Him. I prayed about it for two nights, always adding, "I trust in you Jesus." On the second night of the prayer, I added, "If I see You in a dream, please allow me to remember it in the morning."

That night I had a dream:

I saw Jesus. He was meeting me in front of a large building. He walked up to me and took my hand in his. No words were exchanged. It was like I had been expecting Him to come. I began walking with Jesus. He was holding my hand.
I remember Him vividly. He had long, brown hair, a little past his shoulders. He wore a long, white gown and brown sandals on his feet. There was a red heart on the outside of his clothing, on his chest. He looked exactly like the pictures I had seen of Him.
He started to lead me into a building. I felt happy to be with Jesus, walking with Him, and holding his hand, but I wasn't in awe of Him like one would think. I didn't feel the need to bow down to Him and such. It felt perfectly natural to be with Him, like He was my friend.
As we walked deeper into the building, I noticed that it was quite large. My eyes scanned the vastness of it. We stood in a large room, but I saw several hallways leading off in several different directions to more rooms. It seemed to be some sort of a museum. There were no other people in there except for the two of us. There were wax figures of people in there, but it wasn't the sort of museum I was used to seeing. The figures were not standing, but were suspended in the air, just hanging there. As I looked around, I noticed how odd it seemed, all of the hanging figures. I could almost feel a gloominess about the place that seemed to hover thick in the air. It wasn't the sort of place that I would associate Jesus with. It was spooky and eerie.
As we continued to walk, something about the figures began to frighten me. I began to think of death. It was almost like I could feel it. I looked at one of the lifeless figures hanging nearby. "They are dead!" I suddenly thought, and the thought was very frightening.
I looked over at Jesus, my apprehensions growing. He was still walking next to me, still holding my hand, his gaze set straight ahead. He didn't seem the least bit concerned. In fact, his footsteps were hurried as He led me deeper into the frightening place.
The further we walked the more panicked I felt. Many thoughts began creeping into my mind. "This place is scary. I don't like it here. I want to leave." I looked at Jesus again. He continued to walk as though He were on a mission. He didn't even seem to notice how deeply frightened I was.
Meanwhile, the panic in me continued to rise. The place seemed utterly evil. The kind of place that could send chills up your spine, and my fear was becoming unrelenting. Once again, my mind began racing. "I want to leave. I need to get out of here." I wanted to tell Him, but I was afraid to tell Him.
We continued to walk, and I continued to struggle with my thoughts. "What if I tell Him, and He ignores me, and keeps on walking? What if He says no? I'm not sure if He will take me back. He may not do it." These thoughts only intensified my fear.
After struggling with my doubts and pure lack of faith, my fear got the best of me. Finally, I summoned up my courage, and spoke out loud, "I want to go back!" I said with urgency. Upon hearing my words, He stopped suddenly, as soon as I had spoken it. He turned and looked at me. I had also stopped, and we stood facing each other.
I felt a sinking sensation as I looked into his eyes like a frightened child. My heart stopped beating in my chest. I couldn't even breathe for fear of what his reaction would be. I just stood there waiting on his reply, yet fearful of what He might say. Those few seconds of silence were pure agony for me. I wondered, "Will He help me or not!"
He had never let go of my hand the whole time, and without a word, He turned, and started leading me out of there. Talk about relief! I let out one huge sigh as I felt solace wash over me. My heart started beating again, and I could breathe. The minute I had told Him, "I want to go back," He had stopped instantly. It was as if my wish was his command. I didn't have to beg, or plead, or try to persuade Him in any way. He just did it!
As we walked, I thought, "Wow, that wasn't hard at all." I had gained new confidence in Him, thinking, "He is good and kind. In fact He would do anything that I asked of Him. He is that giving." I sensed these things about Him, and I knew with certainty in my heart that they were true, and that I really could trust Him.
On the way out, He led me to a wooden door. It was nothing fancy. It was just an ordinary looking door, perhaps even a little shabby looking. We stood hand in hand, in front of the door for a few seconds, just looking at it. I could feel my apprehension growing once more. I was scared of the door, fearful of what may lay behind it. What ever was back there I didn't want to know. I only waited, once again. I could feel myself becoming paralyzed with fear.
My uncertainties were beginning to get the better of me as I wondered what Jesus would do, and why He was showing me this door. He never said a word about it, and He didn't attempt to open it. Then we turned away from the door, and He continued to lead me out of the building. Once again I was feeling relief.
(Later I was deeply puzzled by this part of the dream. I wondered why Jesus would show me a door, and not open it. When I shared the dream with someone later, he told me that Jesus would have undoubtedly allowed me to open the door, and see what was behind it. That made sense that Jesus was offering me the chance to open it, but I wasn't ready. I was too frightened, and He didn't force me. Perhaps, it has to do with the term, "Free Will." I realized that we must have an incredibly loving God, to allow us the freedom of choice.)
We walked away from the door, down a short hallway, and when I looked up, we were outside. I stood next to Jesus, still holding his hand. I gazed out at the scene of serenity set before me. I heard the cheerful sound of birds singing. A clear, blue sky emerged before my eyes, and I saw lots of green grass and trees. My savior had delivered me safely to a peaceful place. I realized throughout the whole frightening experience in the museum, I had been safe holding his hand.
I woke up immediately after the dream was over. I glanced at the alarm clock on my bedside table. The bright red numbers read three o'clock in the morning. Just as I had prayed, asking Jesus to let me remember the dream when I woke up. It wasn't even daylight yet, but I was awake. It was certain I would not forget the dream.
As I thought about the dream, some of the fear and anxiety I had experienced in the museum began to return. It had all seemed too real and the memories were more vivid than any dream I could ever remember dreaming. I snuggled deeper under the covers, and moved as close to my husband as I possibly could. It wasn't long before I fell asleep.
When I awoke later to the light of day, any fears I had experienced earlier in the night had subsided. I reflected on the dream. When I had prayed to see Jesus in a dream, I had wanted to walk on water with Him, but I got something totally different. I had prayed, "I trust in You, Jesus," and He showed me just how weak my faith in Him really was. I had not trusted in Him at all, but He showed me that I really could trust Him. He didn't let me walk on water with Him like I had hoped, but in all of his knowledge and wisdom, He knows far better than we do what is best for us, and I needed to know that He wasn't unapproachable, and that I could trust Him.
I was also surprised that my prayer had been answered so quickly. I had only prayed about it for two nights. I had spent months reading about other people's encounters with Jesus. I had laughed, smiled, and celebrated with them deep in my heart as I read story after story. Now, I had experienced my first encounter with Him, and nothing could take away the joy I felt that He had been thoughtful of me enough to answer my prayers.

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