The trouble with "Father God"


I'm a new father. My 3 month old son is a constant source of entertainment and challenge, and over the weekend I started thinking about the analogy of God as a loving father. There is something about the analogy that doesn't quite fit when it all is put together. I know that analogies only hold up so far, but this is one that seems to have been given ultimate congruence with reality, and I'm not sure that is appropriate. Here's why:

As a father, I know better than my son what is best for him. At times, I cannot give him what he wants because it will not be good for him- we are in the process of letting him learn to sleep by himself right now, as object permanence is developing in his mind. As much as he wants to be held in order to fall asleep, when he wakes up he will be hysterical if we put him down. This will prevent him from getting the sleep he needs, as well as keep us from getting the sleep we need to care for him appropriately. Or, if he wants to eat when his belly is full in order to go to sleep, he will overeat and throw up the food that is already in his stomach, and then still not get the sleep he needs either. It is a difficult thing to care for a child against his wishes, but this how God cares for us at times. And to this point, the analogy holds.

But where it begins to break down is when we move beyond training and into protection. I love my son, and as much as it is within my power I will not let anything life threatening or dangerous happen to him. I will not let him play with electrical outlets or the burners on our stove. But eventually he will have to learn about these things and understand the pain that can be caused by them. Eventually I will stop telling him not to touch (when he is much, much older, of course. Like 25. Then I'll let him touch the burner...), and if he hasn't figured it out by then, he will get burned or shocked and learn why I told him not to play with those things for all those years. But I will not let him, as much as it is within my power, play on the train tracks, or run into traffic, or try to pet lions. When he gets older, I hope to have taught him the dangers of heroine, or cocaine, or alcohol abuse. And I will not stand by and let him kill himself. And here the analogy breaks down, because I am not all-powerful. I cannot keep my son from doing things that will cost him his life, despite my best efforts.

But we say that God is all-powerful. The only way my son is going to die as a child is if I am unable to prevent it. That is a possibility because I am not all-powerful. When he is an adult, I will not be able to prevent him from making life ending choices because I will not be with him all the time. But we say that God is with us all the time. He could end his life when I am not looking. But we say God sees all.

And this is where God is not a father like me. I will let my child experience difficult and painful things in order that he may learn and grow and become a person of character, but character is irrelevant to a dead person. While I understand that my capacity for love, for understanding, for goodness is finite, I can't accept without critique the idea of God as a loving father, because I've known far too many people who have taken their own life, or have died of accident. Even accidents can be understood as being God's time for that person to die, but suicide does not fit into that for me.

There seem to be two obvious choices in light of what I've just said: first, we have to say that either God is not all powerful or all loving. OR, we need to adjust our perspective of who God is to match both what the bible tells us about God as well as what we experience in life.

So I wonder, then, if we might do well to re-evaluate our talk of God as father, because there is more to it than that. I'm not prepared to suggest that God is limited in power or love, but I do think we need to reconsider the limits of reality that we construct around God. We need to change the way we talk about God. We then need to change the way we imagine ourselves and our relationship to others...

"An Honest Question to Difficult Answers"


Last summer, I was given the opportunity to write an article on music, worship, and anti-racism for the journal Liturgy. My task was to explore what it is to work towards racial reconciliation through church music in non-multicultural congregations. That article was published online on Tuesday and will be out in print next month! The subscriptions are pricey, as is individual article purchase, so my publisher has been gracious enough to give me a link to share that offers free access to my article! The link is below, followed by the Abstract for my article. Enjoy!

"An Honest Question to Difficult Answers: Explorations in Music, Culturalism, and Reconciliation"

The importance of worship music in conversations about congregational health and growth is contested. The perception persists that worship music style is a primary means of determining comfort or belonging for “church shoppers” at a given congregation. Yet actual research shows that it has a more modest role than is assumed.[i] Nevertheless, conversations regarding worship music abound, and with each passing publication we become more and more obsessed with finding and exploiting the correlates between worship music styles and ecclesial success.

Yet there are many styles of worship music, and the style that best expresses the prayer of one person may not best express the prayer of another. Moreover, in a society that is made up of as many and diverse cultures as North America, we begin to discern that cultural distinctiveness is embodied in the music we find pleasing—sometimes to the exclusion of those who differ from us. Yet the church is intended to be the united body of Christ (1 Cor. 12), and we must ask ourselves how we can live into this reality in the realm of music. Can we find ways of worshiping that allow for those who stand beyond our cultural heritage to join in our musical expression of prayer? And, perhaps, we in theirs?



[i] Gerardo Marti, Worship Across the Racial Divide (New York: Oxford, 2012), 80.

Truth As Relationship


Vacation is over, and it is time to get back on the blogging horse again. I trust you have enjoyed my break as much as I have, and now it is time to resume exploring how our orientation towards truth as that which proves Jesus in retrospect is flawed, and offer an alternative view of how Jesus is indeed the truth.

To begin with, and briefly, I assume that in light of Jn. 14 Jesus is the revelatory point of origin for the revelation of God. That is to say that I, along with Bonhoeffer and others, consider God to be the ultimate "reality" (non-platonic sense), and in Christ that reality has been made known to humanity. This means that the ultimate reality is then the incarnate God in Christ in humanity.

Yet this kind of truth talk requires qualification. That is because unless further defined this type of truth talk can lead us to disallow the real experiences of people as untrue. But the other side of the coin causes us to question the qualitative merit of empirical truth- just because something is true does not mean that it is good. How then do we find consonance within the triadic dissonance of Jesus the truth who is not all truth but at the same time does not negate as unreal that which he is not?

I would like to propose a different way of thinking about truth theologically. What if instead of a binary conception of truth that is either a 1 or a 0-that is or is not-we consider that in light of Jesus' claim in Jn. 14 that truth thus revealed describes the quality of a thing? What if truth is actually the relationship between an entity and reality?

I come to ask this question because I think it reveals what we mean when we say that something is true: we assume truth to be good. This subconscious equation is a by-product of our modern conditioning, the outgrowth of positivism. We tend to hold truth as the highest human value, but truth has a dark side to it. We call it evil. But evil is as true as goodness. How then do we determine the difference between what is and what should be?

I suspect that the simple answer of "let Jesus be the determiner of what is good" is on the surface accurate, but it is too broad, because it fails to account for humanity' inability to determine what is good. Majority rules? Might makes right?

What then is good?