Let Go And Let God Part 1

“Let Go And Let God.”

Sigh. I’ve heard that particular phrase a couple of times at different churches. Let Go And Let God. Let go of what? My anger? My frustration? My psychological roadblocks that prevent me from bridging the gap between me and God? Why am I the one doing all the reaching anyway? He’s GOD. He’s more powerful than me! How hard would it be for Him to stretch His hand like a Divine Plasticman and give an assist across the breach?

Let go of your emotions, most likely. Yeah, because Folk Wisdom usually applies to the intangibles, which is why they’re so supremely aggravating to me. HOW do you let go of your emotions?! If I was hanging onto a branch on the tree in my backyard, I could let go. If I was hanging onto a door, a person’s belt loop, a trapeze, the handle when I’m water skiing, a car bumper, something solid and real, I could let go. Then I’d know what you’re talking about. But letting go of something intangible, something emotional, something that’s oh so painfully real, but not solid, something that exists somewhere inside me and I don’t know where? Let go of THAT? HOW!?

And yet the metaphorical Pastoral Twit struts upon the stage with a little self-satisfied smirk as he says “Let Go And Let God.” And the crowd goes “Mmmmm” in one of those “Holy Crap, he is so RIGHT.” And I’m sitting there thinking, “Um, doesn’t anyone wanna ask him HOW!?”

How, oh how does one let go of their emotions? Maybe they’re trying to say don’t let your emotions rule your world, take ‘em to God. Okay, cool. Let’s give it a whirl.

Dear God. I am pissed off that You don’t return my calls. Would you ever so kindly take away my anger towards You? Um, hello? Hello? God? Care to answer, God? Hey God? I’m angry at you! DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT! Needless to say, I still have issues.

Let Go and Let God. Maybe that means give up control. Oh cool! I already did that. See, last year, I have a razor sharp memory of me having a meltdown in the car. I have most of my meltdowns in the car. If you ever spot me driving, it’s a 50/50 percent chance I’m having a meltdown, so it’s best you stay far away from me, lest I crash into you. On the flip side, if I’m not having a meltdown, I’m most likely praying for all the cars around me, so you might actually want to get in my sightlines. Potential accident or blessings from above. Risk/reward, up to you.

Anyhow, I have a very SPECIFIC memory of this meltdown, though unfortunately, I can’t remember what exactly spurred it. In the halcyon days of 2005, when I was gleefully unemployed, I would have meltdowns at the drop of a hat (and oddly enough, it never was because I was unemployed.)

So I can remember things about this meltdown like, it was after my play had closed (so that puts it somewhere after May), it was in the morning on a weekday, I was coming back from the La Cienega LA Fitness gym (so that makes it a Tuesday, Thursday, or Friday), and I was driving west on Olympic towards my house, but I don’t remember what triggered it. Sigh. Well, it’s probably one of three things:

1: I don’t feel the presence of God, and I feel like I’m cracking up.
2: I’m awfully, terribly, desperately lonely, and craving the arms of a strong strong man around me.
3: I’m never going to sell a script ever, and I feel like God is just waiting for me to figure it out and give up so He can steer me to a life of working as a secretary at a church where I would live a spiritually correct and lamentably celibate and otherwise boring life.

‘Cause most of the meltdowns can be attributed in part or full to one of those three.

Anyhow, here I am, driving down Olympic, passing Crescent Heights, sobbing big heaving sobs, the kind where your jaw is permanently unhinged and stuck in the Gape Position, so should any car glance over and see you, they’d be really worried (but since it’s Olympic, and not Robertson or Sunset, nobody’s looking over.) And I remember quite clearly, saying

“I GIVE UP! OKAY, FINE, GOD. YOU WANT IT? YOU CAN HAVE IT! TAKE MY LIFE! TAKE IT ALL! HAVE AT IT! ‘CAUSE OBVIOUSLY I SUCK AT IT! SO WHATEVER YOU WANT TO DO WITH IT, IT’S ALL ON YOU. TAKE THE WHEEL! OKAY, I DON’T MEAN OF THIS PARTICULAR CAR, BECAUSE I STILL GOTTA GET HOME! BUT METAPHORICALLY! EXCEPT NOT! BECAUSE I WANT YOU TO BE REAL! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME! THIS LIFE IS NOW YOURS, SO DO WHAT YOU WANT! YOU’RE IN CONTROL! GO TO IT!”

There ya go, metaphorical Pastoral Twit. I Let Go, And Let God. Okay, it’s more I Let Go, And Told God To Take Over.

That was last year. Sometime last year, between May and September. And here I am now, and…I don’t feel any different. I don’t feel like someone else took the wheel.


Okay, here’s a completely stupid example. One of my favorite movies in the world is The Lost Boys. Because there is nothing finer in dreamy 80’s beefcake than Michael Emerson in that movie. Would you just LOOK at that man on the left? Sigh, sigh, sigh. Yes, I’ve heard Jason Patric’s a dick in real life, and doesn’t wanna be remembered for his work in that movie alone. I didn’t say Jason Patric was dreamy. I said Michael Emerson was.

But that’s just a convenient excuse to put more photos to break up the text. Basically, The Lost Boys is a vampire movie, and it supposes that there are such things as half vampires, which are people like Jami Gertz who’ve been bitten by vampires like Kiefer Sutherland, but won’t be fully vampire until they make their first kill. But all half and full vampires know there is a Head Vampire, and the only way to turn half vampires back to normal is to kill the Head Vampire. (I believe the full vampires are screwed regardless what happens to the Head Vampire. There may be a coup for succession? Suffice to say, it doesn't come up in the movie.) And in the climatic third act in Grandpa’s house, which involves a lot of wire stunts, and annoying actors named Corey running around, Mr. Dreamy Michael Emerson finally kills who he thinks is the Head Vampire, only to have Jami Gertz pipe up in the corner after the dust settles that “I don’t feel any different.” Meaning who they thought was the Head Vampire isn’t, because obviously if they had dusted the dude, everyone would FEEL it.

Is it too much to ask that if God took over my life, I’d FUCKIN’ FEEL IT!? Half vampires can feel it when their Head Vampire dies and they get to go back to being human and kiss Michael Emerson on a beach that looks like Santa Cruz. God is bigger than the movies, so why would His influence be smaller than that?

Here’s what happened after the meltdown: I made it home. I ate lunch. I worked on my scripts. Life went on. The months went by. The car broke down. The computer broke down. The money ran out in fixing the car and the computer. I got a job. I work for decent people who I will never ever blog about. I continue to work on my scripts. I don’t feel any different. We didn’t get the right Head Vampire. If this is God taking over, it feels suspiciously like I’m still at the wheel.

WAIT! Wait, wait, before you start sending the comments about how I’m so blind, God sent me the job working for decent people who I will never ever blog about, WAIT. There’s more. But this entry is already too long, and I’m TRYING to write reasonable sized entries so…part 2 comes later. Very soon. I promise.