The Trouble with Blessin' Gettin'

Just recently one of my social media pages was clogged with a series of  “Blessin’ Gettin’” prophetic quotes and videos. It seemed that all I had to do was to click on the short video, watch it, then add a comment to the growing page - to be sure to receive my own portion of the excessively abundant blessing lined up to flow from the very throne of God to only those in humanhood fortunate enough to click “like”. To not click “like” and leave a comment implied that I would in fact NOT appreciate a blessing from the Lord...and that’s where things started to get awkward. As I scanned through several of the posted comments, my heart seemed to be torn in a two places. On the one hand, there are a lot of people out there who genuinely need some type of divine intervention in their lives - calls for new jobs, healing and restoration, and strangely, a resounding notion that, “It’s about TIME I received MY Blessing!!” I couldn’t help but feel desperate to point out, that these good Christians, are solidly missing the point.

Or are they? Have we not been taught that God loves us, and he shows us that love by showering blessings down upon us? If God is okay with what we’re doing, we might get the benefit of good health, food on the table and a nice family. But, if God is really happy with us, he’s going to bless us (because I’m going to keep telling him to) with piles of money, the perfect job, the perfect spouse, an exhilaratingly happy marriage and (when we’re extra special) a position of power and authority and our own personal following of devout people seeking our unending spiritual wisdom. Because of course, those are the things that would make us happy. Therefore, those things are blessings - because we exist for God to make us happy. Right?

Wrong. I can no longer understand the attitude toward God that reduces him to a mere genie. Is that really what we want? Imagine if my relationship with my husband echoed how I’ve treated God in the past. I would meet him at the door with my hands out, wondering what he’s brought me after work. When he only brought me one rose, instead of an entire bouquet, I would pout until dinner time, feeling deeply hurt and disappointed by him. When he finally put dinner on the table, I would wait expectantly for an after dinner surprise, and instead when Brad would ask for help with the dishes, I would pout extra hard, and throw the plates into the dishwasher. After dinner would likely not be any fun, as Brad might choose to play online games with his brother. This of course would lead me to growl, snap and cry until my eyes were swollen slits, after all - why wouldn’t he want to focus his attention all on me? At bedtime I would give him an earful about how he needs to think about his treatment of me. Of course, we wouldn’t go to bed angry - he would apologize.

I highly doubt our marriage would last very long. Enough. Really, enough. Stop and take a look in the mirror. What are we doing? The God of the Universe, wants to walk in an intimate relationship with each one of us, he sent his only son to die so we could be cleaned of our own sin, and how do we respond? We demand that God finally bless us, for all of the good we’ve done for him.

I can’t do it any more. My heart breaks, and cries out. It leaves me no where but feeling lost and deeply alone. The churning, growing desire for a relationship with God can no longer be satisfied by a relationship where my hands are held out asking for God to bless me. The turn has come, and I choose to walk in an intimate relationship with my Father. It’s terrifying - the control freak in me is rocking back and forth nervously, repetitively, but it’s time to trust. To put each circumstance of my life in the hands of my Father, and trust that he holds the outcome in his hand. To hear his voice say, come walk with me, and from there to follow.