(The Nationalist, 23 April 2004)
What do I mean when I use the word “God”? Am I thinking of the bearded old man up in the sky so beloved of cartoonists? No, I let that idea go, along with the other bearded old man up in the sky, the one with a bagful of presents over his shoulder who comes down the chimney at Christmas.
Am I thinking of God the fire brigade – sent for in emergencies and ignored the rest of the time? Or is it God the insurance policy: he doesn’t ask for much, but the penalty for ignoring him could be great, so why not go along? Or is it the long-distance God: the kindly, ineffectual, but remote figure who really doesn’t make much difference? Or is it God the moral censor, who knows my inmost secrets, a recording angel at his side, noting my sins? Or is it God the super magician who can pull rabbits out of the hat when all else fails?
What kind of God am I looking for? One thing I don’t want is a God who is a product of my own mind, one made in my image and likeness. That God I can never adore.
What I really want is to unload from my mind all ideas and images of God because they are certainly inadequate, probably inaccurate, and likely misleading. They are idols and I don’t want to be an idolater.
I do not know what God is, but I believe that God is – and that is enough for me. ‘When he is revealed, we will be like him, for we will see him as he is’. (1 John 3.2)