Who is God?
Part 9: What do I really value about God?
Of course, it’s possible that God can affect things in the world directly, and probably most of us have – perhaps only a handful of – examples that give us pause for thought in the way events in our lives turned out remarkable beneficially. However, they are not certain, and they seem terribly weak compared to the obvious good things that a good God could do if he was inclined to act regularly in the world, such as end wars and cure sick people. There are pretty expert theodicies to explain how God can still exist alongside evil and suffering, but it leaves us uncomfortable with the gap between what God might do and the few examples we cherish (perhaps secretly) of when we feel we have discerned the hand of God “tipping the balance” in the direction of goodness. It seems, perhaps, fairer to accept that God does not act directly in the world – and this would certainly save many believers from agonising doubts over why God doesn’t act. I think we can also show that a God, who is an independent, personal agent, but who only operates through human agency, is a God worth adoring.
So, what is it that I value about my faith in God? I imagine that if someone I love dearly was desperately ill and the doctors had exhausted all their skills, then I would pray for a miracle. If I was on a sinking ship and all the lifeboats were gone, and the sharks circling, then I’d be very pleased if God could somehow give me a way out of the situation when there appears to be none. Yet, in fact, I have lived for over 60 years without requiring this. There were difficult times when it would have been nice if God had dusted off his fairy wand and given me a hand but the fact that I’m still here suggests that I didn’t need that. I acknowledge that I am very fortunate. I’m a British citizen, living through a period of considerable peace and prosperity. I had a good upbringing and possess a number of skills. So, I have not needed God to interfere in the working of the natural world to tip the balance in my favour. What I need is help in navigating my way through the natural world in a way of which I approve – which basically means doing good, avoiding causing harm to others and rejoicing in the life I have.
So, what I truly value about my faith is the rich interior life that I experience in relationship with God. I love the way he inspires me, comforts me, directs and reproves me, forgives me. I love the way I can share with him all my inmost thoughts, my sense that he is always with me, completely understands me and is always rooting for me. I love the truth that he shows me. I love the way that he lifts me up to ultimate experiences, and reveals the depth and wonder of life. It is not simply that in company with him I exult in the beauty of nature or am overwhelmed with reverence for life. Rather, beauty fills me, but then points beyond itself to someone (I call him God), a someone who is somehow the source and goal and fulfilment of this beauty (as of every other good thing). My deep reverence for life appears to be merely “a cover” for something even more deeply reverent which is behind, or within or which upholds and makes possible the life I revere. It is as though anything, no matter how supremely precious and profound it is, is simply an introduction to what is even more, and ultimately precious and profound. And this sense of precious profundity is experienced as a personal relationship. I am not inspired by principles or values or ideas; I meet someone of whom all these precious values are somehow a reflection of who he is – but even then not fully doing justice to who he is. He is always more. He is not a reflection of these wonderful values, principles and ideas; these wonderful ideas are a reflection of who he is. He is the source of the actual truth and existence of these precious things. All these precious qualities are “embodied” in God or, as God has no physical body, they are “personalised” in the person I encounter and give the name “God” to. Yet God is not – as in my understanding of ancient Greek religion – simply the personification of precious values; these precious values are a reflection of him. A secularist might say, “Why don’t you just say, “I believe in love”? After all, you believe God is love, so there seems no difference to me whether you say, “I believe in God” or, “I believe in love”. Yet when I say, “I believe in God” I do not just mean, “I believe in love”, though I might struggle to put into words exactly why I think that I am saying more when I say, “I believe in God”. Perhaps it is down to the personal aspect of God, in that, by believing in God, I am believing in an active agent of love, who is pouring love into creation (possibly only through human channels), rather than simply believing in love as a passive quality. I might have to admit that, if “God is love” then perhaps there is no difference between the quality of love that God has and the quality of love that we might conceive of as atheists if we were forming the concept of “perfect love”. Yet that concept of perfect love would, as it were, just be lying there waiting for us to do something with it, but, with the God of love, there is a person who is actively loving.