I had a long and interesting weekend with much thought and prayer and trying to get to a better understanding of theology.
I had sometimes suspected this before, but on the weekend it dawned on me that Jesus maybe was so much of a real human that he also knew doubt, that he had an authentic growing up - that he had not always known about his identity as a son of God, and that this identity was not as singular, that he did not mean to say that he was the only son of god but perhaps more something like a new kind of son of God that in fact we all are, only we are different in beliefs and religious opinion.
The Gospels often have Jesus referring to himself as the Son of Man, and for me this is not simply a title or figure of speech, it is more about Jesus identifying himself with men and seeing in himself just as much a son of man as a son of God.
I would even go as far as saying that in Jesus not only the Messiah himself sits on the right hand of God but also we have that right. This really means, not only the father and Jesus use might and authority, we do too. But not all of us use their human authority in the way that God wants us to use authority. Everyone who has power, in God's mind, should be serving the genuine good with this power. Everyone who governs should also serve. Everyone who hears about justice should not stop at hearing but also act justly.
Jesus acted justly even when he was "the only one" so far, but he quickly went and searched for friends. Serving God while being fully on your own is pure harshness in my mind. It doesn't work, and it doesn't pay off really. I think this is actually the job of the church, to provide workes in the wineyard with co-workers. And in the end many things can be considered doing a service. You don't have to be a Mother Therese to serve. Raising a child has to do with service. When I cook food for the others it is also doing a service. Seeking God is a service too - in the way Jesus describes it in the Sermon of the Mount ... Jesus doesn't say that God simply hears prayers and answers them, but that he rewards us for praying because it is more of a work and a sacrifice sometimes, than something that is pleasing to us, something that we do to enjoy ourselves and feed ourselves.
One thing I kept pondering about again and again was the definition of God as "spirit". In a way, every human is part of God because we all have and at least partially ARE spirit. God is something like the ancient mother spirit who birthed us. I think Jesus doesn't mind us calling God mother, and privately I think he actually called God mother sometimes.
Jesus is this person that does not come off as a mere masculine He to me. He also has a feminine aura sometimes. Many people do not like feminine men but I don't share this dislike. For example, I enjoy being with gays and transgendered people because they don't exhibit the "bite" of certain heterosexuals and of those who COMPLETELY identify with their genetic gender without also allowing in themselves qualities of the other gender. Physically, gender is somewhat fixed, but our soul is another story. Our souls are often remaining like children that have to bear with a tough world and in bearing this world they also toughen up to some extent. But in their core they remain being children.
I have a friend who relishes a lot in God calling us to become mature. And of course he makes sense. But when I look into my inward life, when I am completely honest, I think I have often been more mature when I was 10 years old than now that I am 36. I have experience, but did that turn me into a real grown up? What is a grown up but simply an older child? I cannot pinpoint a day in my life where I turned from child into grown up. Sure, I have grown a beard. I have sexual interests now. I have a sense of independency from others and I understand and know about things now that I did not understand and know about as a kid. But my distance to my childhood does not make me rejoice. If anything, I am often sad about that, because in my childhood I was saner than today, I was happier, I was more joyful, I could even think better. When I am really honest, my time as a grown up has often been bad so far. Things did not work out very well. I have no romantic partner, I have no career, I have no children and I have only a very few accomplishments. I have a rather busy thoughtlife that I think goes deeper than the thoughtlife of many others, but it often had more to do with pain and how to get away from it, without succeeding all that much. I know times of elation but they did not last long and in the end I am again unhappy without a real satisfaction of my heart.
I think I know God now, but this knowledge of God has not become a genuine happiness in God. When I work on my theology I pursue enlightenment and I do find my things like I described them in my posts here. But when I compare this to how I just usually "felt" in my childhood, so safe from harm, so protected in my family, so attached to a beautiful and sensitive life, this all pretty much pales. I have already lost my dad. I "know" from my spiritual sense that He is in heaven. But my heart worries and complains and is afraid and does not always help me with agreeing to what I believe in. It almost seems as if my heart is my enemy sometimes. It dictates fears even though my spirit would claim it is beyond most fears. It dictates worries although my spirit claims I don't need to worry. It dictates reluctance and doubt while my spirit wants to get closer to God. I often relate to that verse in the hebrew bible that says the heart is wicked. I have known the feeling when the heart is solid and warm and glowing with love. But many times my heart feels like a completely crushed and disowned 3 year old.
On the weekend I prayed about this for a long time and got some replies from God. The idea is, if you believe in God, your spirit becomes something like God's vicar in you. But the human being is not just spirit. There is also the rest of your body, or the flesh, as St Paul put it. In my spiritual identity I love God and the spiritual things. In my fleshly identity I run away from God and wish I were alone. The key should be a sense of integration. But that gives me a dilemma ... I only reach tranquility and an equilibrium when I am on top of the waves, when my heart has become silent, when my flesh seems to become like dead, or as others might put it, when my flesh feels healthy and strong. And in the middle of all that, there is a small voice that says things should be better than all of that, a sense of quietness in me, a sense of warmth, someone to hold in my arms, a sense of peace that may not be spectacular, but real enough to allow me to live in peace rather than in this constant conflict.
But there are a few things I cling to. If someone would ask me, did you really dig yourself so deeply into religion, are you really someone who has the experience to talk about it, have you really been in this hell as deeply as you claim, etc .... then my answer is yes, I know what I speak about. In a way suffering bestows honor on those who suffer, and a renewed sense of the dignity of man. I may know the TRUE worth of life only from seeing how absent it is often is from daily life that should be much more wholesome and "sacred" in the true sense of the word. But it does not matter that much from where I know it, it matters that I know it.