In my high school years, a joke went like this:
In the evangelical aquarium in which I swim, there is such an emphasis on God's grace that our kids have grown up not getting what they deserved and getting what they didn't deserve and there is a sense of a kind of avuncular (another good SAT word!) God. "Hey God..." has become a common opening to public prayer among my daughters' friends. It is a welcome contrast with the disembodied "power" that I imagined God to be as a teen. But really... "Hey God..." Are you serious?
Perhaps that's the point. We're not serious. In the midst of our theological intimacy, we have lost the majesty and awe of the Creator of the Universe. I'm not suggesting a return to the fear and trembling that was the staple food of a shame-based catechism. I'm not even suggesting some sort of balance between intimacy and awe... an awkward middle ground. Rather, I'm suggesting that we need both at the same time.
What is a life of intimacy and awe? It is access to the Creator and Redeemer of the Universe. It is like having a back stage pass... It permits a certain uncommon access, but not a buddy-buddy familiarity with the main act.
I'd be happy if we could replace, "Hey God" with "Wow. God!"
Q: What's the difference between ignorance and apathy?
A: I don't know and I don't care.I suppose that there may be many whose eschatology (good SAT word, so go look it up!) can be summarized by ignorance or apathy. But for the present I worry more about the tension between intimacy and awe.
In the evangelical aquarium in which I swim, there is such an emphasis on God's grace that our kids have grown up not getting what they deserved and getting what they didn't deserve and there is a sense of a kind of avuncular (another good SAT word!) God. "Hey God..." has become a common opening to public prayer among my daughters' friends. It is a welcome contrast with the disembodied "power" that I imagined God to be as a teen. But really... "Hey God..." Are you serious?
Perhaps that's the point. We're not serious. In the midst of our theological intimacy, we have lost the majesty and awe of the Creator of the Universe. I'm not suggesting a return to the fear and trembling that was the staple food of a shame-based catechism. I'm not even suggesting some sort of balance between intimacy and awe... an awkward middle ground. Rather, I'm suggesting that we need both at the same time.
What is a life of intimacy and awe? It is access to the Creator and Redeemer of the Universe. It is like having a back stage pass... It permits a certain uncommon access, but not a buddy-buddy familiarity with the main act.
I'd be happy if we could replace, "Hey God" with "Wow. God!"
