We seldom ask the “Why?” or “Who?” questions. It is when we stop asking those questions that we go astray. We tend to start asking the more mundane and often shallow and self-serving “What?” questions. As in—what can I buy today, what can I do today, what can I fill this void in my life with? When we take a breath, when we pause for a moment, that uneasiness sets in and we seek to fill it with whatever we can get our hands on, not the who. But, God is often found in those “in between” spaces. And yet we fill the gaps with the latest iPod, or a new car, or some new project, missing out on a chance to find out a little more about who God really is.

I missed those chances for a long time. I was presented with Christ’s message of love at age 16. And I did accept it, but I really did so out of not knowing what I was saying (or because it seemed “cool” at the time) rather than from a compelling belief or need in what was being shared. Perhaps that had to do with my traditional church upbringing—a sort of lukewarm and legalistic faith, always knowing that God was there, but holding him at arm’s length in hopes that he would not mess with the “real” plans I had for my life. I had my plans all figured out, or so I thought, and I didn’t need him meddling.

Through college and for some years afterward, I continued my on-again off-again reception of God—aware that He was there, but not much more. I bumbled through those years, dabbling in the nefarious pursuits some of us tend to fall prey to when we are set free of our parent’s watchful eyes. And then I stumbled into marriage, feeling that God should be involved somehow, but really not knowing why or how.

My wife and I moved along, accumulating material wealth—we “had it all”. At least, that was what we tended to believe, the story we had bought into. We became masters at accumulating things—cars, houses, whatever—and emptying our souls into a huge vat of materialistic excess. We ate and ate at the All You Can Eat buffet and remained starving. Did you know that the space we so longed to fill could not be filled by any item on the buffet? The more of your life you dedicate to filling the space, the larger the space becomes. Now, I am not saying owning or wanting things is bad—but when it becomes the source of your identity, trouble lurks. We tried to convince ourselves we were happy, but inside we were rotting. Our relationship grew stale, our pursuits more and more self-indulgent, and we wondered why we felt so empty inside, all the while externally dancing around the house of smoke and ash we had built.

Out of desperation we separated and began to see a counselor, hoping that he could help explain why the things we had obtained left us wanting. That is when I first felt the hand of God in my life. Like I said earlier, I always knew he was there. But he was waiting. Waiting for me. Waiting for me to stop pretending. Waiting for me to stop looking inward and start looking upward. Waiting for me to stop trying to satiate myself, and start meeting the needs of others. Jesus says we must lose our life to save it. Unfortunately, it took many years for me to realize this and hear it, and in that time God moved the people into my life that I so desperately needed. Reflectively, it all seems so perfectly orchestrated. He spoke to me through countless people. And in their words and lives I began to see who God really was, and what he wanted from me. And what he wanted was simple: me. And that is a humbling idea: God, who created a vast universe beyond all of our collective comprehension, wants the tiny me.

Since that period in my life, I have begun to unravel the mystery of this god-person, the Christ. I will never know all the answers to my human satisfaction, but I know that he is working, moving, breathing in my life. A few years ago my mom and dad both were diagnosed with cancer. God spoke to our family through it, buoying us in a sea of suffering. He revealed to us what a person with His spirit truly looks like—my mother, who knew the Lord well, passed away after a long period of coping with terrible pain. And while I was crushed that she was with us no longer on this earth, I was overjoyed that she was with him and suffering no more. And while the sadness of her not being with us still lingers within, God continues to bring perspective out of it.

But what do I know? Not a lot, really. But I do know that God wants you, just like he wants me. God has walked with me through heartache, and the pain of loss. He teaches me what life really is about, rescuing me from the ashes of a life that had left me void. He helps me, daily, to deny the self I struggle with. He shows me what marriage should and could be. He reveals what community with others was meant to be. And, he gives me hope.