My imagery of God growing up was somewhat complex, and that has only increased; however the accuracy of the complexity looks vastly different. I remember singing about how Jesus loved the little children….all the children of the world, red, brown yellow, black and white, they are precious in his sight…and picturing this great benevolent grandfather-type figure who loved even sunburned kids like me. I remember reading my “Bible in Pictures for Little Eyes” and seeing clouds and rainbows when it spoke of God, kinda hippie-esque. I remember Sunday School in the church basement and coloring pictures of Jesus on a cross who always looks very weak and delusional with his eyes pointed upward and I remember being told that he died for me. I thought that sure was nice of him. And I remember praying to him—though I didn’t yet know him, I thought he was up there and asked him to please take care of my Grandma and to please see what he could do about Mom getting us a trampoline and a puppy.

In school (esp high school and college), I heard about a different God, one who was angry and killed people. One who was relentless and short-tempered. Though I had not read the bible, I was told that this God in whom I believed killed babies and puppies and sent anyone who didn’t believe in him to hell, even people who had never heard about him! He was painted as an intolerant grouch and a cruch weak people used to use as a source of comfort and assurance. He was a source of moral inspiration and assistance for the ignorant, those not yet enlightened in this day and age. He was, at best, a sort of good luck charm, a spiritual piñata we humans could bang into when we needed something and up our odds of getting what we wanted. I remember discussing religion with my Catholic roommate in college who told me she wasn’t sure she believed in God, but thought it was a good idea to go to church “just in case.” While I couldn’t put my finger on it at the time, everything I heard about this God felt wrong. So I did what any civilized 21^st century enlightened American doused in culture of Relativism would do: I made up my own God. I picked the parts that felt right and good to me, and rejected the parts I didn’t like or which felt uncomfortable, resolving that if there was a God, he would understand.

The only problem with all of these views is the Bible.

There are elements of truth to each and every message I heard over the years and yet all of them were unbalanced, distorted and unaccompanied by the empowering Holy Spirit (John 16:7) to effectively reveal the fullness of God’s true character (Col 1:9). In Exodus, the Lord clearly reveals his character as being the compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness, forgiving wickedness, rebellion, and sin….yet not leaving the guilty unpunished (Ex 34:6). He is a God of love and a God of wrath and the two cannot be separated. A God who is perfectly loving cannot, by definition, stand for sin, rebellion and rejection of Him (1 John 4:8). By the same logic, a God who is perfectly just cannot, by definition, put up with injustice. Love and justice can only be reconciled in a Christ on a Cross creating the potential for what we know as grace. A shepherd who loves his sheep with immeasurable ferocity cannot and will not stand by idly while preying wolves rip them to shreds. I recall passages of scripture that used to drive me away from wanting to know a God of wrath, but I believe there is something to be said about the order of revelation in scripture. He is first and foremost a God of compassion, he loves deeply and suffers with his creation (Mark 6:34). He is then a God of grace, divinely ordaining that we do not always receive the consequences we deserve, yet maintaining his justice as those consequences are yet dished out. He is an angry God, but only in as much as he is passionate to protect those whom he deeply loves. And he is slow to anger, abounding in love and forgiveness. His jealous wrath is for his sheep and he will fight tooth and nail to protect those he loves.

Reading Psalms 18 gives me chills every time without fail (God’s response to a faithful servant under heavy affliction and oppression):

In my distress, I called upon the Lord; to my God I cried for help. From his temple he heard my voice and my cry to him reached his ears.
Then the earth reeled and rocked; the foundations also of the mountains trembled and quaked, because he was angry.
Smoke went up from his nostrils and devouring fire from his mouth; glowing coals flamed forth from him.
He bowed the heavens and came down; thick darkness was under his feet.
He rode on the cherubim and flew; he came swiftly on the wings of the wind.
He made darkness his covering, his canopy around him, thick clouds dark with water.
Out of the brightness before him hailstones and coals of fire broke through his clouds.
The Lord also thundered in the heavens and the Most High uttered his voice, hailstones and coals of fire.
And he sent out his arrows and scattered them; he flashed forth his lightening and routed them.
Then the channels of the sea were seen, and the foundations of the world were laid bare and your rebuke O Lord, at the blast of the breath of your nostrils. (v7-15)

Something profound occurs to me as these words sink into my heart…the wrath of God is reserved for those who oppress his people, those who confuse his sheep, those who seduce his bride. It is stored up for wolves, villains and murderers. He is so deeply in love with his people, so intensely jealous for their affection, so fiercely devoted to their destiny that he will protect at any cost. Love without wrath is not love at all. Not in a broken and corrupt world where there the daily burden of sin and destruction is laid upon the shoulders of the beloved. Only true love will hate, abhor, threaten and kill that which stands in the way of the beloved. And that is the God of the Bible—simultaneously pouring out love on his people and wrath on their opposition with a divine ferocity.

An ‘impersonal God’–well and good. A subjective God of beauty, truth, and goodness, inside our own heads–better still. A formless life-force surging through us, a vast power which we can tap—best of all. But God himself, alive, pulling at the other end of the cord, perhaps approaching at an infinite speed, the hunter, king, husband—that is quite another matter. There comes a moment when children who have been playing burglars hush suddenly: was that a real footstep in the hall? There comes a moment when people who have been dabbling in religion (Man’s search for God!) suddenly draw back. Supposing we really found him? We never meant it to come to that! Worse still, supposing He had found us?

CS Lewis, The Four Loves

Photo Credit: Joyce Yong

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