How Big Is Your God?

Job 38:1-7, Isaiah 49:14-16

            There are several cosmic questions that have plagued humans from the beginning of time—questions that seem to be without answer.  Like, if a tree falls in a forest and there is no one to hear it, will it still make a sound?  Why do tornadoes target trailer parks?  Why do dogs roll in dead things?  Why is it that the one who snores is always the first one to fall asleep?  More seriously, why do good people suffer? 

            We ask such questions, even the humorous ones, to try to make sense of life.  Especially when it comes to the question about suffering.  It’s not fair, we cry.  I (or they) shouldn’t have to go through that.  This was Job’s question.  He was a God-fearing man, a good man, and he had lost everything.  Family, home, health, wealth.  And he demanded that God give him a reason why. 

            Do you remember God’s answer? God doesn’t answer him, exactly.   Instead God questions Job in a way that puts him in his place.

            Read Job 38:1-7

            I believe in God the Father Almighty, maker of heaven and earth.   For the last couple of weeks we’ve been challenged to be honest about the kind of God we are already worshiping.  Now the creed challenges us to embrace the God revealed in the Bible.  The God of Abraham and Isaac and Jacob.  The God of the prophets.  The God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ.   The challenge is to make a trade.  Trade in those old musty gods of our own making for this God who is all powerful, yet who loves us with an undying love. 

            As was true with Job, we make our statement of faith in the context of our own life situation.   Very often, when we ask the Job question (why do good people suffer), we are trying to get God to fit into the box we have made.   Like everything else in our life, we want to get God into some kind of understandable, manageable package.  We want things to work out in our favor, and it seems reasonable that God would want to be a part of that.  But God isn’t someone that you can put in that kind of a box. 

            It’s kind of like what happened when a man found a magic lamp, rubbed it, and out came a genie, offering him one wish.  After thinking hard, he asked for a copy of the newspaper dated one year from today.  The genie thought it a strange request, and asked why he would ask for such a thing.  The man replied, “If I can see what the stock market is trading at one year from now, I’ll be able to invest in the stocks that have gone up in value, and I’ll be a rich man!”

The genie grants his wish.  Poof! The man is holding a copy of next year’s newspaper.  He quickly turns to the financial pages, and scans for the stocks to invest in.  After he’s made his picks, he accidentally flips to the obituary page, and is greatly taken aback to see his photo there.  (story file, 16.1.1)

I believe in God the father almighty, maker of heaven and earth.  These are words that put our lives into perspective.   By defining who God is, it puts us in our place in some very important ways. 

If God is almighty, the great creator, then by contrast we are the created ones, and our power is finite.   We did not make God.  God made us.  We do not have power over God.  God is sovereign over all of creation, us included. 

The idea of God being almighty—sovereign—is comforting I think.   God’s in charge of the universe.  I don’t have to be.  I don’t have to have all the answers.  I don’t have to be right about everything.  I can be in pain, and I can suffer.

It is comforting to understand that God is almighty—except when we disagree with God over what needs to be done.  Then, we might struggle a bit with the notion of God’s sovereignty.   Suppose I decide as a young person that what’s important to me is to grow up and get a job that will make me a wealthy person.  But that may be incompatible with God’s career choice for me. 

But God is sovereign—almighty—whether we agree with God or not.  And that can be disarming.  Plus, it’s easy to misunderstand what it means for us that God is omnipotent--all powerful.   We might think it means God will be arbitrary in dealing with us.  Only powerful and not loving.  So we are afraid to surrender to this powerful God.

Some of the pagan philosophers of the second century heard about this doctrine of sovereignty and began to play games with it.  They asked the question:  if God can do anything, then can God create a weight that is too heavy for God to lift?  Augustine’s reply to these kinds of mind games was to say that the primary meaning of all powerful is that God has the power to forgive all people’s sins.  He elaborated by saying “I can tell the sort of things He cannot do.  He cannot die, He cannot sin, He cannot lie.  He cannot be deceived.  Such things He cannot:  if He could, He would not be almighty.”  (see Jack Rogers Guide to the Book of Confessions, 68)

Now, I believe it’s ok to have an honest disagreement with God.  It’s also ok to be angry with God (if you wonder about that, go and read the Psalms).   It’s ok to ask God those cosmic questions.  But all the while we need to remember our position with God.  God is God, and we are not.  That’s the basic equation we need to remember.  God isn’t interested in playing games and riddles.  But God is interested in helping us understand and embrace the things that God thinks are important.  God will hang in there with us through the struggle. 

A young novice who was preparing to take religious vows asked the oldest member of the order, “Father, do you still wrestle with the devil?” 

“No, my son,” the elderly priest said, “I have grown old and the devil has grown old with me.  He does not bother me as before.  Now I wrestle with God.”

Surprised, the novice asked, “Wrestle with God?  Do you hope to win?”

“Oh, no,” said the wrinkled old man.  “I hope to lose.”  (story file, 17.5.1)

I believe in God the Father Almighty, Maker of Heaven and Earth.

The God that we worship is sovereign over the whole of creation.  And that is because God created it all.    The stars, the planets, the trees, the animals.  You and me. When I think about God as creator, I think about the vastness of the universe, and my insignificance.  I think about my garden, and the beauty of the flowers, the vegetables.  I realize how little I really do to make that garden grow—to make it beautiful and productive.  God is the creator. 

If God is creator, then no created thing can possibly be God.   The moon and the stars are not gods.  Neither are any animals.  Nor rocks nor trees, nor silver nor gold.  Neither is your spouse.   Neither are you. 

If God is the maker of heaven and earth, this truth gives purpose to life.  Our being here is not random.  We are meant to be here.   In the creation, God has placed eternity in our hearts, and that sense of destiny sets us on a course to discover our purpose.

If God is the maker of heaven and earth, and we are God’s creatures, then we are accountable to our creator.  We are accountable for what we make out of our lives and we are accountable for how we treat the rest of creation. God did not make the world for us alone. We cannot begin to know God as our sovereign creator without beginning to understand our responsibility to the rest of creation as well.  In a world where 20% of the population uses 80% of the resources, and we are a part of the 20 that uses the 80, we need to do some hard thinking and we may need to do some re-prioritizing. We must learn what it means to be good stewards—good managers-- of what we’ve been given.

I believe in God the father almighty, maker of heaven and earth.  

In the Jewish Talmud, it teaches that every person should wear a jacket with two pockets.  In one, the rabbis say, we should carry the message, “I am a worm and not even fully human.”  In the other. . .should be the message “For me the world was made.”  (see Chittister, 45)  Our creature-hood has that double-sided reality to it.    Our relationship to God our creator, puts us in our place as being less than God.  But it also puts us in our place as being greatly loved and cared for by God.  

Many years after the time of Job, the children of Israel were in exile in Babylon.  The years stretched on, and many despaired that they would ever return home.  And many felt like God had abandoned them.  God had forgotten them.  Have you ever felt that way?  Like you don’t matter to God, and God has gone off to take care of someone more important? 

It is to the people who felt abandoned by God that Isaiah wrote these poetic words: 

Read Isaiah 49:14-16

Even these may forget, yet I will not forget you.  See, I have inscribed you on the palms of my hands . . . .

 God is creator, God is all-powerful.  And God is also our loving parent.  I  believe in God, the father almighty.  Not just almighty, the father almighty.   Now, calling God father raises some concerns for us, in our day, because we automatically think that means father as opposed to mother, and we recognize that to call God male puts God in a box that is too small for God to fit in.   But that was not the contrast that the writers of the creed wanted us to think about.  Yes, the creed was written in a patriarchal time, so naturally, the word father was used, not mother or some other more generic term like parent.  Still, the point is not to make God out to be male, but to make a clear statement that God is our loving parent.  Not far away and impersonal but intimately close at hand.  Not apathetic about our situation but vitally concerned and involved.   So, you can really insert the word mother or parent, and get the same meaning. 

God is all powerful, and God is also personal.   In a world where so much of life is de-personalized, we desperately need to know that God doesn’t see us as a number.  God sees us as beloved children. 

Here’s a shocking story that illustrates this reality. There was an atheist couple who had a little daughter.   Because they were atheists, they never told their daughter about God.  There was much violence in their home, and one night when the girl was five, the father shot his wife and then shot himself.  The little girl watched it all.

The girl was sent to a foster home, where the mom was a Christian, and she took the little girl to church for the very first time.  The foster mother told her new Sunday School teacher that the girl would need patience because she had never even heard of Jesus.  On the first day of Sunday School, the teacher held up a picture of Jesus and said, “Does anyone know who this is?” 

The little girl said, “I do, that’s the man who was holding me the night my parents died.”  (story file, 16.7.5)   

Even these may forget, yet I will not forget you.  See, I have inscribed you on the palms of my hands.