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I went for a drive this morning. A little frustrated that I woke up at 6:30am, on my day off, to get all ready, and drive 20 minutes across town for a meeting that lasted only 7 minutes. But, after a minute of sulking and asking myself: “how was that even worth it?” I made a pit stop at Starbucks for a cup o’ jo and decided to head for the hills. For weeks I’ve been looking for and wanting to explore this desert wonderland I’ve heard of... with trails around the Apply Valley rocks and such things. Well, I have no idea what road it’s on, but I decided to take a little drive in an attempt to find it. And plus, it wasn’t barely 8:30 am, my family was still asleep, and it was a beautiful morning!
If you know me, you know that I like to take drives... especially when there are new things to look at. So, while I’m guilty of wasting gas and doing my part to contribute to the global warming problem, I am content to say it was well worth it!
During my drive, my mind quickly wandered to God. (Sadly not as common an occurrence as I’d hope for this late in my Christian walk, but I’m still a work in progress.) Anyway, I started to think about the size of God. The literal size of God. And while I briefly remember Tozer blasting the person who dare put limits on a Holy God... I continued to entertain the thoughts for a while.
So, I’m a pretty visual person. That’s why I loved geometry and couldn’t master calculus for the life of me... but I digress. I understand things when I can see them. (Which doesn’t lend aid with the whole faith factor, but we’ll save that for another entry!) But as I started to think, two images came to my mind.
The first of a little girl, in a full dress. Her head back, hair flowing, smile full, eyes glowing. Her little arms stretched, hands open, reaching upward, grasping for some childish delight. Not Turkish—childish. Maybe her dad. Maybe something in the sky. Spinning around, just for the sake of getting all dizzy, falling down, laughing, standing back up, and doing it again, just for the fun of it.
The other image I had is of a man. Primp and proper. Dressed to the nines. Pleated, cuffed and belted. Greased and combed, tied together with a grin. His eyes glossed over from a life that’s dealt him a nasty hand. In his hand is a small box. Nestled in his pocket. He holds onto it, ready, at any moment to pull it out in a last desperation move for help. An 8 ball of sorts, to bail him out in a bind. A kind of pocket God. I see him walking across a cold marble floor to shake hands with an equally stuffy, mistakenly collected man.
Two takes of God. Ones I’ve worshiped at different times. One big the other small.
As the little girl, there have been times where God is big! He is beautifully limitless. All-powerful and mightily in control of it all. Where joy overflows and taking delight comes easy. Where hope is bountiful, and from faith flows rivers of life and love. God is big and my understanding and worship of him attempts to match that!
There are other times I’ve mastered God into a palm pilot that fits nicely into my life’s plan. One that is tame enough and providential enough to provide for my needs without being too involved as to create any rifts. One that doesn’t ask too many questions and provides only the politically correct answers. One just big enough to take care of my problems, but small enough to stifle if things seem to get a little haywire.
And though it seems simple and a little trite to say... I’d much rather worship with first! Kind of like the “Jesus!” safety answer in Bible study, but truly. Worshiping the biggest and greatest and Holiest God I can imagine seems greater than somewhat trusting the little pocket God I can re-mastered to fit my needs. And while I often error to favor the control I have when I make God small, I fail to see his greatness and therefore miss the opportunity to see him for who he really is.
And though I’ll never entirely know who God is, I am assured of this... he is all that is most beautiful, most good, most powerful, most gracious, most just, most loving, most perfect and lovely. If ever I’m tempted to worship or understand God to characterize anything less... I’ve settled, horribly, for a mere pocket God. If I’m going to recognize Lordship over my life to a God, I’d want him to be the most of all else. That doesn't mean I have to master theology, or even understand an iota of it... it simply means that I have to trust that his is who he says he is, even when I can't see it or understand it fully. He is above all-- even when life suggests otherwise.
I never did find the place I was looking for. However I did run across many a cyclists a cemetery, and an awesome stone house that looked like one Hansel and Gretel would reside in, and in the meanwhile thought a lot about God. A good morning in my book! Maybe I’ll never find this place and I’ll end up emptying my gas tank, wasting an hour thinking about God and enjoying some quiet time! But, I think I’m okay with that!