Why I am Glad God Is Not Real (Part 1)

A few months ago, on March 3 to be exact, I wrote down my doubts about the existence of God. I was at a rough patch in my life, and I really needed physical tangible proof that God was real.

By the way, I am yet to meet or hear about anyone who is grappling with questions about the existence of God who is also not dealing with their personal struggles concerning injustice or suffering. No one is really just fine and they just chose to spend their free time musing about God’s existence. You are either trying to wrap your head around the suffering in your own life or the suffering in the world around you. But I digress…

So, on that dark March evening, I really wanted God to give me a sign. I needed to see Him, feel Him, and touch Him. I wished God was real "the way my hand is real, or my friend is real..." I wished "I could see God's face and touch Him and smell Him and talk to Him the way I talk with other people."

As I revisit those words today, it is evident from my thoughts back then that the only way out of that chasm of doubt was through God proving TO ME that He was real. It sounds like an innocent and reasonable (even noble) quest, don’t you think?

Yet when you pause to look at the request beneath the request, you will notice that I wanted God to do what I WANTED Him to do. I wanted Him to do my will. The only way I would believe in God, it seemed from the post, was if God listened to me, did what I demanded... in the exact way that I had in mind.

Well, that didn't happen. God didn't speak to me "through the vocal chords and smelly breath of a human being." God didn't let me talk to Him "the way I talk to my boss or a mentor or my mother." Neither did God do any tricks miracles for me to see so that I could believe. I am yet to see "a real, physical miracle… the kind where an amputated limb grows back right in front of my eyes."

Still here I am, more convinced and persuaded about the existence of God than I have ever been before. It seemed back then that unless God did what I wanted Him to do, that is, “show Himself in the ways that I believed would convince me”, I would cease believing in Him. So what happened? How come I believe more in the existence and the love of God today more than I did then and yet I never got the evidence I sought?

The simple answer is that God would not have been God if He proved to me that He was “real”. He would not have been God if He did my bidding to “convince me” of His existence. I am not saying that God cannot put on flesh or walk on earth and perform miracles. Of course He can (if only in principle)! In fact He has (more on that later)!

But I am saying that if the only reason God put on human flesh and started doing a couple of tricks was so that I can be convinced of His existence, then I am taking myself too seriously. A God who bends to my will and goes out of His way to do what I ask just to prove a point to me (even if that point is His existence) is not worth worshiping. He is not worth the title “God.”

If God is real, and if God is God, then the most reasonable thing for Him to do is to act like God. If God is real, then it means that He defines what He gets to do, not me. If God is real, then He is sovereign, He created and owns me, and He gets to do whatever He wants. He doesn’t get to do whatever I want.

If the God I wanted to see had to fit my definition of Him, then that meant that this God would only be as big and as complex as my understanding would permit. No, I do not want to believe in such a God. I have my mirror for that.

Does this now mean all is well with my heart and that the issue of me wishing “God was real” is resolved? Does this witty deduction settle the matter concerning my doubts? Have I finally cracked the code on God’s existence? Far from it! In fact, I would be quite terrified if I actually thought I had resolved the mystery of God’s existence. Because it would mean I had “finally figured out God” and we would be right back to a God made in my own image.

I have no guarantee that tomorrow I won’t wake up and find myself doubting again, and pleading my case again. I have no guarantee that there won’t be days when I would be tempted to prefix my prayers with “God, if you’re there…” As long as there is sin in my heart and as long as I live in a world broken by the curse of Eden, I am in no way immune to having doubts about God and His existence. In fact, I dare say that even the strongest of believers doubts God’s existence and power more often than they think.

So how come I am so steadfast in my faith in God, even to the point of saying that I have never believed more than I believe now? I will address that in the second part of this already lengthy post.

To be continued…

For the fame of His name,

Cornell