Abraham’s first reaction to the news that he and his wife Sarah would bear a son, Isaac, was to laugh. They both were up there in years, and the thought that he would be the father of a great nation was ludicrous. Abraham discounted both himself and Sarah. He passed judgment. He failed to see God’s plan. To the first question, How do I feel about myself?, Abraham might have said that he did not feel up to the challenge. He was too old. Life and the opportunities with it had passed him by.
It occurred to me on a chilly walk to the gym that I am guilty of this posture toward myself, too. Unilaterally, I take in the world around me and declare what I cannot do because of age or talent or position or connections or money or what have you. And if I am honest, any account I take of myself typically yields negative results. I am a sinner. I hate this or that about myself. I am afraid. I am tired. I am trying as hard as I can, but it is clear that it is not enough. So I take it to God in prayer, which leads us to the second question: How do I feel about God?
God, of course, is almighty. He is omnipotent. He can do anything. And he deserves my worship. But resting on that question alone can create feelings of great distance between us and our Creator. I am so small; He is so big. How could we ever possibly connect?
It is on the third question, dear listeners, that I would like to pause, for it is, I believe, the most important one: How does God feel about me? On my short, cold walk to the gym, I stopped and regarded the sunset as I chewed on the question. The first two questions – How do I feel about myself? and How do I feel about God? are important, but it seems to me that the third question is the linchpin: the proper lens through which we must see our very existence. He sees us with perfect clarity. He knows us better than we know ourselves. And there are no limits to what He can do with us to grow His kingdom on earth.
For many of you, I am sure, I am stating the obvious. God loves us. Check. But I still wonder if we are living in a culture that amplifies the first question, dismisses the second, and forgets the third. Indeed, we seem to be verifiably obsessed with answering the question, How do I feel about myself? To be sure, we have created a whole industry to find the answers, and from my vantage point, all it seems is that we are digging the hole deeper and deeper, uncovering so-called conditions that were never a thing even a decade ago. How do I feel about myself? Take a seat. Do you have an hour? We defer to feelings and whims, and while I may not have a conclusion just yet as to where this is going, patterns are emerging that suggest that we like the Nanny state a bit too much.
The second question typically gets brushed to the side. God can be anything someone wants Him or Her or It to be. A distant clockmaker. A cosmic errand boy. A force that is ultimately, and sadly, apathetic to the trials and tribulations of humankind. But, in the end, there is nothing but conjecture. Differences of opinion. Confusion where there ought not be any.
But, again, the third question: How does God feel about me? Or Abraham? Or Sarah? Or, years upon years later, Elizabeth, Mary’s cousin, who also found herself to be with child late in life? Perhaps it is a matter of rubrics: God’s and ours. Our methods of measurement are limited by virtue of the fact that they have been composed by humans – us. God’s methods of measurement, on the other hand, are unlimited, and the exciting thing is that He applies them to us – humans. If we take that worldview – the one where God does and can do the seemingly impossible with flawed human beings – then we are able to step more fully into a great adventure that is centered, not on anything we come up with, but on everything God has come up with and will come up with. So, dear listeners, how does God feel about each of us? Go ahead and laugh because the answer is more than any of us could possibly imagine.
