Assumptions and images about/of God

In the large-steeple Southern Baptist Church, where I was raised, almost all public prayers began the same way: “Dear Heavenly Father.” The preponderance of male imagery did not cause me to think of God as an old man up in the sky with a white beard and a penis – although part of me wishes that it had because that would be a hilariously tragic image to remember. Instead, the effect was much more insidious.

Because I so frequently heard God referred to as a male, my understanding of God was shaped by the stereotypes of men that were all around me: white, middle-class men who were stoic (“boys keep their emotions bottled up inside”), workaholics (with the glaring exception of cooking, cleaning, and childcare), and successful (“the man is the breadwinner and must provide for his family”). Thus, I thought of God as the exemplar of all these male characteristics: unemotional, omnipresent, and perfect – kind of like Santa Claus, but more serious and a lot less jolly. Both Santa and God “see you when you’re sleeping…[and] know when you’ve been bad or good,” but I was never worried about Santa leaving a lump of coal in my stocking. There was, however, some level on which I was fearful of divine punishment – especially punishment of the “eternal separation from God” or “lake of fire” variety.

Then, when I was a freshman in high school, my father died of esophageal cancer. The absence of my earthly father has affected my understandings of my “Heavenly Father” in ways that I will probably never fully comprehend. But, to give one example, my father’s death may be a reason that as an undergraduate I was drawn to hyper-skeptical, nihilistic, “death of God” philosophers like Nietzsche. Moreover, being a philosophy major allowed me to think about God in detached and intellectually satisfying ways without having to worry about how I felt about God. As a college student, this dynamic was, for the most part, unconscious. I can now see that by focusing on the development of my mind, I could repress my emotions.

I recovered both emotions as well as positive language for God thanks to feminist theology. As an alternative to unhealthy masculinity, I encountered healthy femininity. These women prayed, “Loving God” or “Mother God.” Feminists helped me to experience God as emotional, nurturing, and caring. I am also deeply indebted to many gay and lesbian Christians who transgressed gender stereotypes in ways that challenged me to expand my understandings of God to account for the diversity of humankind, all of whom are created in God’s image.

Again, however, as I reflect retrospectively, I can now see that feminist theology also caused me, for a time, to overcompensate: to believe that because our world is so deeply patriarchal, God should either be referred to in either feminine terms or gender-neutral terms. I still respect this argument – and think that, ideally, any masculine reference to God should be balanced with an accompanying feminine image. However, in my own prayer life, I am finding it increasingly important to reclaim healthy masculine imagery for God in addition to using female imagery. As part of living into this reclamation of masculine imagery, I am discerning a call to participate in one of Richard Rohr’s five-day, “Men’s Rites of Passage” retreats as a transformative way of celebrating my 30^th birthday, which will be on March 10, 2008 for those keeping score at home.

Since both males and females are created in the image of God, we can find some knowledge of God through the lenses of masculinity and femininity. Nevertheless, my concern ultimately is first-hand knowledge of God’s Presence that is inclusive of both genders and beyond both genders. This is the same impetus that caused me to seek spiritual direction. I felt called to ground my theology (“words about God”) in first-hand experiences of God, not just second-hand descriptions of God.

With the help of spiritual direction, I have experienced first-hand my own belovedness by God, but I feel called to experience God even more fully, deeply, and intimately. God is love, but love is not all of God. I continue to have many assumptions about God (including that God is love, peace, justice, grace, and freedom), but I also feel called to continue to grow in knowledge of God though contemplation of God’s Presence that is more than and beyond all of those assumptions. I do not know – nor do I think I can ever know or comprehend – all that God is, but I assume, at least for now, that to know God more and more is a vocation worth spending a lifetime pursuing.