The 'warm and fuzzy' God image…

Last night we had a visitor at the Quaker Meeting of which I’m a part. She was quite nice, and spoke about her work as a Christian missions coordinator. But mostly she talked about her journey with God. She emphasized the concepts of “surrender” and “trust”—two areas of apparent struggle for her. But it was the imagery she alluded to that was most difficult for me to grasp. She spoke of ‘falling’ into God’s arms, and being held by him. She spoke of the physical support he gave her—his love which allowed her to trust him completely. In the autistic world, such imagery is, in a way, useless. For one thing, it’s hard for me to imagine what all that would be like. It’s not appealing to me—so I guess I have a difficult time negotiating such concepts. I am quite happy not having any, or at least minimal, “touchy-feely” contact with others. Even with my husband, physical touch has to be on my terms. It isn’t simply about being cold. It’s that it’s downright uncomfortable for me, unless I’m absolutely prepared for it. I guess it’s why I don’t want to hold hands, or even shake hands (except for when a Quaker worship gathering concludes, but that is another topic). So if I cannot tolerate a brief touch, unless truly ready, then the last thing I want to do is to “fall” into someone’s arms—even God’s. It reminds me that as an autistic person of faith, I need to find comfort in different imagery, or situations. I know there is something spiritual, and deeply comforting, about a walk on a sunny, breezy day. I feel God when I hug my dogs, or serve my animals in some capacity (like feeding them or cleaning their ‘space’). I feel connected to the spiritual when I cook a satisfying meal for my friends, or when I care for my husband in some small way. But sometimes I feel that I am “shortchanged” in the eyes of others—that somehow my spiritual life is not as deep as it would be if only I could embrace such things as described by our visitor. No one has ever said this, of course—but so many people of faith talk in terms of physical love that it’s hard for me to not feel left out. I don’t know how to change that—I only know that it’s evident, at least to me, that God “touches” each of us differently. And I know he never touches us when we’re not ready, and never in a way that is disconcerting to us. He shows his love in terms that all creation—even autistic people—can understand and appreciate.