Let Go, Let God

Mike reflects on a spiritual moment he had during Sunday service at the First Assembly of God in Natchez, Mississippi.

Hello everyone, this is Mike George coming at you live once again from Natchez, Mississippi. We've got a wonderful little time here, just past the sunset over the Mississippi River, sitting in the twilight hour of the evening on Sunday, 19 February 2023. It’s a wonderful day here, and the temperature is perfect — hovering at around 20 degrees (65-68F). I can’t complain too hard; after all, I'm not in Ohio!

It’s been a wonderful weekend. I could be cliche and divulge on my Mardi Gras festivities, but we have Facebook photos for spilling that tea! So instead, I want to talk about something radically different - I went to church today!

Finding God

I’ve been in the South for a couple of years now, and this was the first time I took the opportunity to attend a church service down here. I know that sometimes, I mock the institutionalism and the dogma of most organized religion; but to be fair, I grew up in a Catholic town - Steubenville, Ohio - and I’ve never actually had a terrible experience personally in a church before.

Years ago, during a really intense time in my life, one of my best friends, Aly, said something that really stuck with me. I hope I’m not misinterpreting this, but she said that I was one of the individuals who was the closest to God among the people in her life.

I don't attend church normally. I don't generally buy into the institutionalism that most church represents. But the reason I went today was because I was seeking community. I think that’s really the greatest practical value that church offers, whether we admit it or not.

I think I found God a long time ago. Maybe it was through the help of drugs, maybe not — I’m not going to try to justify it. I definitely think back to March 2016, during my first major mental health episode. During that manic state or psychosis, I saw God. And not only that, but I saw my dad through God. It was one of the most beautiful moments of my life spiritually. I am so thankful that I got to have that moment.

The Lord works in pretty mischievous and mysterious ways. I love our Lord!

I keep referring to the Lord as a "He"— but I don’t think the Lord ought to be referred to like a man. I think that’s a really reductionist way to view the Lord. The Lord is so much greater than a “He.” The Lord is not a man! That’s the stupidest thing we’ve ever come up with; and leave it to a male-dominated society to ascribe God as a man. Men are awful! I believe that God is something greater - something all around us, metaphysically.

I felt God today. I went to the First Assembly of God. It seemed like an evangelical establishment. I normally despise evangelism, because I find the notion of trying to show Jesus to people to be quite presumptuous. And I have to admit, I still don't define myself as a Christian, because I don't really believe in the Jesus stuff. I believe moreso in the Lord. I think Jesus was a scapegoat. The Bible is a man-made book, no better than *Harry Potter* as far as factual validity.

Nonetheless, this church was extremely welcoming. The pastor was right there at the door to greet me as I entered, along with the church elders. I really admire the degree to which the congregation instantly made me feel welcome, even as a random dude wandering in from the street. When I used to do event planning, I always felt that my number one responsibility as a host was to make every person in that room feel welcome. I really admired the pastor for that — for treating me as a welcome member of the church instantly. It’s been a long time since I can recall a place in which I felt that welcome.

But let’s get to the sermon! I was kind of a big nerd, taking notes during the sermon.

Quiet Ripple of a Good Deed

There’s a Bible verse within the book of Acts in which Peter, the religious leader of the community, walks down the street and heals the sick and ailing townspeople around him.

But what the pastor really emphasized was that the shadow of Peter had served to heal these people. It wasn’t that Peter himself was intentionally healing these people; but rather, he served as a vessel to God’s power, passively carrying through him God’s power upon the earth to heal all these people.

And the really distinct thing is that Peter had no idea - this was a phenomenon that was going on unbeknownst to Peter himself when he was walking through the street and when people were leaving out their sick and suffering relatives to get healed by Peter.

What struck me about this passage was that the power of God was acting through Peter, without Peter himself even knowing, and most importantly, without Peter even receiving any acknowledgement that it was happening at all.

In this age of social media, we live in this sort of world in which, when somebody does something good, they expect some sort of reward for it. Even the general concept of karma implies that, for every good thing I do, I’m entitled to some good thing back. And that’s not something that should be shunned or discredited; in fact it’s valid to want to be rewarded for doing good work.

But the idea of doing good for goodness sake is what really stuck out to me. And the idea that we shouldn’t help other people, just for the reward of it - that we ought to help others simply for the good of its own sake.

We live in this world in which everything is so transactional - where we’ve come to expect that, if we give a dollar to a homeless person, the universe therefore ‘owes’ us a dollar back in some immediate to medium-term future.

I don’t want to dismiss this as a selfish thing, but it’s something that is a little reductionist in realizing the good in others. It takes away the magic from helping others. And it discredits the Lord, because we’re making it about us - and not the power of the Lord, and about the innate joy of helping somebody else - and seeing them prosper - even if it doesn’t immediately affect us, and even if their prosperity doesn’t bring us prosperity - or even some dividend thereof.

But you know what? Though it might disappoint some people to know that you’re not going to receive that immediate reward… the bigger thing I really loved about that notion is this - that there are impacts and secondary impacts, and tertiary impacts - and derivative effects of these good deeds that we don’t even know about.

This struck me because in our world, especially with social media, we expect a reward when we do something good. We live in a transactional world where we might expect, "I give a dollar to a homeless person, so the universe owes me a dollar back". That's reductionist; it takes away the magic from helping others. It discredits the Lord because we’re making it about us and not about the innate joy of helping somebody else. The bigger idea is that there are secondary and tertiary impacts of our good deeds that we don't even know about.

Finding Hope Again

I had lost so much hope in this world. It feels overwhelmingly corrupt. I have this joke that the Lord has a lot of patience, because in 2023 we've desecrated and destroyed this beautiful planet. I see men of God who don't even acknowledge global warming. The ignorance and willful disregard for a neighbor is shocking, especially seeing people clutching their Bibles while doing nothing to improve their neighbor's life. I’m tired of these self-righteous Christians who consume everything and give nothing back to the world.

But knowing that our good deeds are doing so much more for the world than we realize—that gives me hope. It doesn't take money to help people; it takes a little bit of love, a little bit of empathy, and trying to understand what the hell is going on in the world around you.

Letting Go

My big takeaway from the service today was a phrase I heard in Alexandria: **"Let go, let God"**. God damn it, I’m a control freak, an OCD little bitch. I’ve realized that there’s a selfishness to my perfectionism—trying to impose my own version of "perfect" and trying to take credit for things. I have a problem letting go. With projects like Crimson Rouge, it’s felt so lonely because I’ve tried to make it *my* project and not *our* project. I have a specific way I want things to look and feel, and I'm unwilling to allow other opinions to sort of taint the vision.

Along with the notion of Letting Go and Letting God comes a quote from one of my mentors, Miss Lisa Barton: **"Don't let perfect be the enemy of good"**. This means seeding control and allowing somebody else’s ideas to color the vision, making it ours. Not only is that beautiful, but it takes a lot of stress off of me. I’m not the only person responsible; I'm not the one who's making or breaking it. It was never supposed to be about me; it was always supposed to be about the shared mission.

Letting go and taking myself out of the equation to make it about the work is a refreshing thing. It requires giving up control and not being a selfish little prick, but it lifts such a weight off my shoulders. I'm an only child, so I’m not used to sharing my toys, my dreams, or my endeavors. It's taken this long, but better late than never.

It’s easier said than done, of course, but the reward is much bigger than what’s on paper. So, let go, let God, and take care of yourselves and take care of somebody else too.