What a strange season I’ve found myself in. We live in the southeastern United States, which – if you’ve been paying attention lately- is synonymous with the Arctic Tundra. A foot of snow all around and approximately 1.5 functioning snow plows for the entire state… the math does not math, as the kids say these days.
So we’ve all been suffering with a bit of cabin fever, especially since our particular home is nestled ever so sweetly on the lower half of the mountain we call our neighborhood. Last weekend, we had a yard truck AND accompanying trailer stuck on our icy hill, followed shortly by a fire truck that also became stuck, requiring yet another fire truck to come to the rescue… My children’s inner voyeuristic tendencies came bounding to the surface as they watched the flashing lights with glee. I can’t judge—they come by it honestly.
The chaos of our schedule suddenly arrested, I’ve found myself surrounded by… quiet. My older kids escaping to the snow, my younger becoming a world unto themselves as they increasingly enjoy each others company… strange. Ever so strange.
And because my husband and I are over-caffeinated and under-exercised, we’ve found ourselves having some unexpected philosophical conversations. The one lately that keeps striking a chord?
“Do you love God because He’s good, or because He’s God?”
Notice, not should you…but do you?
The wonderful thing about our God is that He doesn’t actually force us to make that choice. He is both God and Goodness, personified. However, when He does things we don’t like, or we read passages where he feels a bit “harsh”, or our own life fails to meet up to the expectations we’ve set… do we still love Him?
Thoughts. Things to ponder.
We don’t often struggle with this concept when it comes to our own authority, I don’t think. I’m a rather excellent parent (ha!), but when my child questions my judgement, I know I’m not the first or the last to answer – “because I said so!” She obeys me because I am her mother, not because she has decided that I’m worthy of obedience. At least, she should in theory, right?
Yet, this is such an un-American concept.
In our democratic republic, we elect leaders based on moral and political values we personally prioritize. We choose our friends, our places of work, our spouses. We choose our churches and our schools. Gone are the days of arranged marriages and the one‑room schoolhouse. Let freedom ring, we smirk, as we flock to the polls or set off obscene amounts of explosives on Independence Day.
So why can’t we choose our God? In all honesty, I’m afraid we sometimes do.
You like a logical, all-powerful, monarchy-inspired God? Into the Presbyterian church you go, enjoy the psalter and try not to fumble on the catechisms. (guilty)
You see God as a loving, compassionate Father, breaking His heart with your own and the world around us? Ah, the Pentecostal movement is where you’ll shine. Put on your dancing shoes and try to close one eye when you read the Old Testament. (I kid)
God is a spiritual, ephemeral, unknowable one? Universal church maybe. Too big, too grand to be bothered, but certainly to be appeased? I’m thinking Catholic…or maybe a cultish Indie-Fundie vibe for you. You’re not working your way to heaven, no worries! But also, like… you better work. (Let’s be honest here, the working is less terrifying than the faith some days.)
Offended yet? I don’t blame you, I’m a little offended myself. At myself.
But to be clear, the point isn’t hating on denominations. I’m grateful for the fellowship they protect and unity they actually inspire. It’s that we humans have this funny habit of designing God to fit our own preferences. And if your image of Him doesn’t match mine… well, apostate. Clearly.
More succinctly: we want to be in charge. We say we worship our Creator, but then we have the audacity to try and create Him in our own image…. A losing proposition all around.
I don’t have cozy answers or solutions. Just pondering and praying… and pinning memes that make me laugh when the world feels heavy.
So for now, you’ll find me sitting in my window seat, sipping yet another cup of coffee, and laughing at the neighbors as they slip around in the snow. (Also, keeping an ear out for when my twins’ fragile alliance erupts into the inevitable blood feud… never fails).
And also, asking God to reveal to me Himself. Who He really is, not just who I want Him, or “hope” Him, to be. To find access to that all powerful faith that His goodness is true, and He is Who He says He is. And that He loves me and mine, so ever much more than I can imagine.
Blood feuds and shameless voyeurism not withstanding.
With Love,
Kelsey
Miracles Enough 