I’m having a super hard time with a “Loving God”. If I don’t believe that “God is love” (typically the first Bible verse you memorize), then it throws the entirety of the Bible into question. I don’t think the Bible is one of those things that you can pick and choose from. Yet here I am, sitting in Starbucks wondering about truth and Truth. I’m uncertain as how to reconcile the parts I believe with the parts that have me angry or even unbelieving. I am truly wrestling with these things in a way that I never before dared. I never would allow myself to question theology. I thought that in and of itself would be blasphemous, but perhaps I’m doing my “faith” a great service. If it stands up to all of my questions and anger and even hate… then it’s real. If it can’t withstand it, then it wasn’t real to begin with.
I believe in God’s existence. I believe in His power. I believe Jesus can move mountains. I believe Jesus is God’s only son. I believe they are one in the same. Yet. I don’t believe God the Father loves me. I believe there are some that He loves. I believe there are some He’s indifferent towards. I believe there are some He just can’t stand. I believe He regrets the creation of some people. He must. Was He pleased with how Hitler turned out? I know, it’s so easy to pull out the Hitler card. Fine. Was He pleased with how the guy who came up with “Jersey Shore” turned out? But I digress.
I started on my homework and got stuck just a few paragraphs in. Everything hinges on this belief/supposition that God the Father loves me. I cannot wrap my head around that. I don’t see myself even as forgivable (which by the way makes confession suck even more than you would think). Maybe it’s the “Father” part that gets me more than the “love” bit. It’s not that I had a terrible dad or that he was abusive or anything. He was present. He for the most part provided. He was there… but he wasn’t there. When he was home (I believe out of self-preservation) he would just lay down on the couch and watch tv. We never had any heart to heart conversations (in fact we never had family discussions, the closest was when they announced the divorce). He never hit me or yelled at me. So, it’s not like I’ve got this evil idea of a dad in my head. But it would be easier to think of God as the kindly neighbor or as God the teacher. God the pastor. God the president. God the father? It doesn’t connect and makes me feel uneasy all at once.