I used to want a “tame” version of God. My love for checkboxes and predictability and control was drawn to the parts of God that I could understand or explain. I liked the love and grace and forgiveness parts. I even included the sweet little miracles, like fishes and loaves or the still, small voice or the baby Jesus in my version of God.
But the tongues of fire or floods or people turning into pillars of salt made me feel like someone set the thermostat too high. That mighty, powerful side of God felt a bit too much. A bit scary. A bit too unknown.
It wasn’t until I walked through the hard stuff—things that felt a bit too much and scary and unknown—and found God in all of those uncomfortable places that I started to know Him and His unfailing goodness. His love and His might fused together to minister to me, teaching me that no, I don’t want a tame God at all.
Because, if I could predict God, I wouldn’t need Him.
If I could explain God, I wouldn’t be awed by Him.
If I could anticipate Him, I wouldn’t surrender to Him.
If I could control Him, I would limit Him.
What I didn’t know until those seasons was that the God I need is the One with both the tame and the not-tame parts— those gentle, kind parts would be less meaningful without the all-powerful, unexplainable parts. I need the God who reaches into my soul and speaks to my heart to also be the God of creation and of big plans and big miracles.
His close is mind-blowing because of His far.
His might draws near in the gentle.
The awe is held in place by my belonging.
Read the rest at The Joyful Life Magazine.