WHO IS GOD?
If we listen to Christian's we've probably heard at some point someone saying that a parking space opening up next to the building was a sign of God's presence. Or we might hear of someone celebrating how God healed someone sick, a miracle performed before them (or maybe even for them).
But the truth is for every miracle we see, there is another person who wasn't healed. Where was God in that story?That's the question we wrestle with.
If God is opening up parking spaces, why doesn't God stop violence? Why not terminal diagnoses?
Life can feel like a stage play (or perhaps a game of The Sims).
We pray.
We perform.
God enters from the wings when the crisis reaches its peak, and saves the day. Or maybe God doesn't and we feel left on our own.
WHO IS GOD TO YOU?
Jesus asks Peter at one point the Gospels, "Who do you say that I am?" How would you answer that question? How would you define God?
For many people, the default image of God we are left with is something like this: an old white dude with a giant white beard, somewhere "out there," playing us like a game of The Sims. Healing one person. Skipping another. Opening parking spaces. Closing doors.
It boils down to a God who is essentially elsewhere, outside the system, occasionally stepping in to meddle with human lives.
The problem with this image is not just that is incredibly simplistic, but it also creates a deeper theological issue: how do we prove this distant supreme Being exists at all.
We start from the places we see, the world, history, suffering, beauty... and then debate whether there is a divine player, playing this simulation we call life.
However, the writers of the Bible are far less interested in proving God's existence and far more interested in revealing who God is.
In the book of Exodus, Moses asks God for a name. The answer God gives is a declaration: "I AM."
Not "I was" or "I will be" or "I occasionally intervene."
I AM.
I AM being itself.
I AM presence itself.
I AM the ground and source for life itself.
And when Moses encounters this I AM, he sees no form. No manageable image. No controllable shape.
God is the one in whom we live and move.
Other stories in the First (Old) Testament are shared stories of a group of people trying to answer who God is... in the midst of harm, human evil, tragedy, catastrophe.
Their collective truth is: God creates partners, not puppets. God indwells with us.
NOT INTERVENTION BUT REVELATION
If God is not playing us like The Sims, then the question shifts. Our question no longer is "Why doesn't God intervene more often?" The question becomes "What is God really like?"
Jesus never explains or answers why some people get healed and others don't. He comes to reveal God in flesh and blood. He is God with us! And in the Gospel of John, we learn that Jesus is light. The thing about light: it doesn't eliminate darkness instantly. It shines within it.
Through his compassion we see that this is what God is like.
Through his generosity we see that this is what God is like.
In his truth-telling, in his forgiveness, in his self-giving love, we see that this is what God is like.
So when I think of God, I don't picture an old white dude who loves to play games. Instead, I hear music. A melody that is woven into reality itself. A rhythm beneath and around existence. A song that has been heard across centuries, cultures, and continents. An invitation for us to join together in harmony.
Some deny the music. Some don't notice. But it continues. And this song sounds like:
Love requires choice. Choice requires risk. Risk allows both beauty and devastation. God makes this choice, to enter into our suffering.
When you see someone give themselves for another, something inside you says, "That's right." When you witness courage for the sake of justice, something resonates. It feels in tune.
That resonances is not accidental. In one of John's letters in the Bible we read the simplest theological claim imaginable: God is love. Not occasionally loving. Not selectively compassionate. But Love. Unrestrained, self-giving, faithful love.
When we live selfishly, we are out of tune When we withhold mercy or justice, we are out of tune. However, when we live generously and truthfully, we align with the music. To live in tune with love, truth, and compassion, in the way Jesus embodied them, is already participation in relationship with the living God, the great I AM.
You do not begin by mastering metaphysics. You begin by aligning your life with the melody.
SO WHAT ABOUT THE PARKING SPACE?
Was God present when the parking space opened? Yes. And was God present when it didn't? Yes.
Was God present with he one who was healed? Yes. And was God present with the one who was not? Yes.
God is not the occasional interrupter of natural processes. God is the sustaining presence within all of it: grieving, restoring, strengthening, and drawing creation toward renewal.
The goodness of God is not measured by convenience, it is revealed in love that endures suffering and transforms it form the inside.
Are you in tune?
You can know theology and still live out of key. You can know very little and yet resonate deeply with love, hope, justice, and mercy.
The song is already written on your heart. As you align your life with the love revealed in Jesus, you are not manufacturing a relationship with God.
You are awakening to the One who has always been present.
Not far removed in the sky.
Not hiding behind a monitor playing us like The Sims.
But sustaining every breath.
But the truth is for every miracle we see, there is another person who wasn't healed. Where was God in that story?That's the question we wrestle with.
If God is opening up parking spaces, why doesn't God stop violence? Why not terminal diagnoses?
Life can feel like a stage play (or perhaps a game of The Sims).
We pray.
We perform.
God enters from the wings when the crisis reaches its peak, and saves the day. Or maybe God doesn't and we feel left on our own.
WHO IS GOD TO YOU?
Jesus asks Peter at one point the Gospels, "Who do you say that I am?" How would you answer that question? How would you define God?
For many people, the default image of God we are left with is something like this: an old white dude with a giant white beard, somewhere "out there," playing us like a game of The Sims. Healing one person. Skipping another. Opening parking spaces. Closing doors.
It boils down to a God who is essentially elsewhere, outside the system, occasionally stepping in to meddle with human lives.
The problem with this image is not just that is incredibly simplistic, but it also creates a deeper theological issue: how do we prove this distant supreme Being exists at all.
We start from the places we see, the world, history, suffering, beauty... and then debate whether there is a divine player, playing this simulation we call life.
However, the writers of the Bible are far less interested in proving God's existence and far more interested in revealing who God is.
In the book of Exodus, Moses asks God for a name. The answer God gives is a declaration: "I AM."
Not "I was" or "I will be" or "I occasionally intervene."
I AM.
I AM being itself.
I AM presence itself.
I AM the ground and source for life itself.
And when Moses encounters this I AM, he sees no form. No manageable image. No controllable shape.
God is the one in whom we live and move.
Other stories in the First (Old) Testament are shared stories of a group of people trying to answer who God is... in the midst of harm, human evil, tragedy, catastrophe.
Their collective truth is: God creates partners, not puppets. God indwells with us.
NOT INTERVENTION BUT REVELATION
If God is not playing us like The Sims, then the question shifts. Our question no longer is "Why doesn't God intervene more often?" The question becomes "What is God really like?"
Jesus never explains or answers why some people get healed and others don't. He comes to reveal God in flesh and blood. He is God with us! And in the Gospel of John, we learn that Jesus is light. The thing about light: it doesn't eliminate darkness instantly. It shines within it.
Through his compassion we see that this is what God is like.
Through his generosity we see that this is what God is like.
In his truth-telling, in his forgiveness, in his self-giving love, we see that this is what God is like.
So when I think of God, I don't picture an old white dude who loves to play games. Instead, I hear music. A melody that is woven into reality itself. A rhythm beneath and around existence. A song that has been heard across centuries, cultures, and continents. An invitation for us to join together in harmony.
Some deny the music. Some don't notice. But it continues. And this song sounds like:
- Love that sacrifices like a deeply intimate friend would.
- Justice that restores and mercy that forgives.
- Truth that liberates and hope that we can become whole peoples.
- Generosity in abundance without calculation or something demanded in return.
Love requires choice. Choice requires risk. Risk allows both beauty and devastation. God makes this choice, to enter into our suffering.
When you see someone give themselves for another, something inside you says, "That's right." When you witness courage for the sake of justice, something resonates. It feels in tune.
That resonances is not accidental. In one of John's letters in the Bible we read the simplest theological claim imaginable: God is love. Not occasionally loving. Not selectively compassionate. But Love. Unrestrained, self-giving, faithful love.
When we live selfishly, we are out of tune When we withhold mercy or justice, we are out of tune. However, when we live generously and truthfully, we align with the music. To live in tune with love, truth, and compassion, in the way Jesus embodied them, is already participation in relationship with the living God, the great I AM.
You do not begin by mastering metaphysics. You begin by aligning your life with the melody.
SO WHAT ABOUT THE PARKING SPACE?
Was God present when the parking space opened? Yes. And was God present when it didn't? Yes.
Was God present with he one who was healed? Yes. And was God present with the one who was not? Yes.
God is not the occasional interrupter of natural processes. God is the sustaining presence within all of it: grieving, restoring, strengthening, and drawing creation toward renewal.
The goodness of God is not measured by convenience, it is revealed in love that endures suffering and transforms it form the inside.
Are you in tune?
You can know theology and still live out of key. You can know very little and yet resonate deeply with love, hope, justice, and mercy.
The song is already written on your heart. As you align your life with the love revealed in Jesus, you are not manufacturing a relationship with God.
You are awakening to the One who has always been present.
Not far removed in the sky.
Not hiding behind a monitor playing us like The Sims.
But sustaining every breath.
The Invitation To Us All
I don't believe for a moment that God is an occasional visitor to our lives. God is the sustaining reality within which your life unfolds.
God doesn't reside far off in the sky, but present with us in the dirt.
Sometimes the music crescendos in unmistakable ways. Sometimes it hums so quietly you wonder if it's still here.
But Christian hope rests on this claim: nothing exists outside the reach of Divine presence. Not your doubt. Not your anger. Not your grief. Not even your unanswered prayers.
You are not waiting for God to enter the room. You are already inside the song.
God doesn't reside far off in the sky, but present with us in the dirt.
Sometimes the music crescendos in unmistakable ways. Sometimes it hums so quietly you wonder if it's still here.
But Christian hope rests on this claim: nothing exists outside the reach of Divine presence. Not your doubt. Not your anger. Not your grief. Not even your unanswered prayers.
You are not waiting for God to enter the room. You are already inside the song.
Posted in (W)Holy Faith | Contemplative Living
Recent
Categories
Tags
