Tuesday 19 August 2003

Thoughts on God

When you're a kid, people tell you to reach out to God, to tell Him everything. They tell you if want stuff, to simply ask Him for it. I didn't have Santa Claus when I was growing up. I had God. I didn't often get anything I asked Him for. I didn't even get a lot of answers to my best questions. Sometimes I think my relationship with Him is permanently arrested in that childish phase of wanting Him to give me stuff and help me out of binds I get into and being confused and upset when it turns out that life often just doesn't work that way. For non-theists, this is analogous to trying to be optimistic or positive, but feeling like Life (or God) takes your best efforts throws it all back at your feet, mangled and shat upon. What is a more adult relationship to have with one's parents and one's God? An inability trust is a weakness, right? I believe there is a God. I believe there is a God who lets children starve and dogs die and people die of cancer and flesh-eating disease (Is "dis-ease" really a harsh enough word to come after "flesh-eating"?) God lets babies be born. (Except in the case of my sister, who just lost hers.) I know in my heart that the template for every sunset and every breath-taking woman's genes are brought to you by the grace and endless innovative creativity of God (even if her jeans are brought to you by Old Navy.) I try to believe in a God who is interested in the kind of human good that I can see and understand, but I don't always do a good job of it. I believe in God the way I believe in my dentist, and I don't resent Him any more than that little Scotsman with the big red beard and (in my opinion) far too much upper body strength for a dentist and all sorts of needles, grinders and drills for sticking in my mouth. In a way I am grateful each of them is there for me, and in a way I'm not. I was raised to believe that God had a wonderful plan for my life that would make me happy if only I followed it. Now, I wonder how out of control He lets things get. They always look out of control, not in a "roulette table random" way, but in a "747 with the pilot in the crapper taking a dump" kinda way. Or else, I guess, in a "747 headed straight for the World Trade Center buildings" way. If He will let thousands die, why should I believe He cares if I get a job or if I can get my car towed back where I can fix it or sell the remains for a fair price?

No comments: