I used to often pray to God, “Come, Holy Spirit, Come” when I was afraid and uncomfortable. When my dad used to have screaming fits, I would run up the street and pray this. When my family was in emotional turmoil, I would pray this. When I was struggling to not be bogged down by depression, I would pray this.
And the interesting thing, which I realized about a year ago, is that I do not need to ask the Holy Spirit to come. Rather, I believe that the whole time God was probably opening his arms up to me and saying “I am here, Tanya. YOU come to ME.“ God is not concrete (this is the root of many of my occasional doubts), but I know that he is here even when I don’t ask for him. (I can tell you in more detail why I believe this if you ask me… but in short, it strings from a long road of ups and downs in my relationship, and ultimately just feeling His presence).
Sometimes I still find myself praying “Come, Holy Spirit.” And in a way, I think when I say it now, what I mean is “I am depending on you now, Father. You be my light in this situation.”
When I do pray this, it is often in situations of great distress. (I aim to become more dependent on God in all situations, not just when I feel desperate). And often, God does not suddenly alleviate my pain and distress, but that is okay. Over time, I have seen how He has worked through deep issues and brought light to Him through them. One of my favorite things about my Father is that he makes beautiful things out of all circumstances. It just takes time.
And speaking of time, as you may have guessed, I recently passed out of a phase of doubt. A few weeks ago, I was taking a “hiatus” from being Christian…. I know, I know it sounds horribly childish. I was angry at God and I was angry at Christians, so my solution was to experiment with things like marijuana, surround myself with atheists, and stop praying to or acknowledging God. I realized later how much I had made myself spiritually vulnerable. I felt convicted, uncomfortable, and ultimately God drew me back to Him. I could make excuses, saying “oh, it’s just because I was born into a Christian family” or “I am just believing because I want to believe”… But (as terribly self-aware as I am), I know my spirit and I know what it feels. And I simply must follow that.