A Kids' Meal God

Consider 1 Cor. 13:10-12.

My friend Karen is a writer, editor, publicist, a worker with words. Mid-thirties and a mother herself, she's made a discovery. The mother she knew as a breadwinner, disciplinarian, and homemaker writes as well! Karen has seen how even the discipline--copying words and definitions from the dictionary--and certainly the books they shared were tools in skillful hands developing potential with an oh-so-gentle touch.

I've recently come to an understanding of my own mother. A talented, intelligent woman, except for brief periods in protected environments, she had lived with her parents or with her husband for thirty years before I was born. That birth marked a turning point and found her far from home with an infant and a four-year-old, my father traveling from Monday morning until Friday evening. Two years later, another baby arrived. She is and was a good mother, but overwhelmed and insecure, she passed on to me not only her talents and intellect but self-doubt.

In 1952 J. B. Phillips' Your God is Too Small was published. It's been reprinted, the latest being 2004. The book was a classic by the time I read it in the early 70's, and I particularly remember a passage about whether or not God understands radar. Maybe today the question is microchips or nuclear fission or how to program a DVD recorder. The answer, no matter what the question, is "of course." But that's not the question or the answer. The question is What is your understanding of God? Like Karen, do you assume you're the first to write poems, that the concept would be foreign to your parent? Is the God of your understanding the one you met in Sunday School, sitting on a rug at the teacher's feet? Just how big is your God?

In restaurants, given the chose of regular sized, child sized, or supersized, all too often we compulsive overeaters have chosen to supersize. Twice. Maybe the smaller portion meal makes more sense for us. But if you're stuck with a child-sized God because you never looked at him again after you learned everything you needed to know about him--It's time to supersize.

Consider the prayers of Tevye, the Jewish lead character in Fiddler on the Roof. He asks impertinent questions, such as, "Dear God. Was that necessary? Did you have to make him lame just before the Sabbath? That wasn't nice. It's enough you pick on me. Bless me with five daughters, a life of poverty, that's all right. But what have you got against my horse?" If you were as blunt as Tevye, what would you say to God? What would he answer back to you? Write it down.