The living God

The other day, I was talking to my boyfriend Nick about God (I am religious and he is not). He asked me why I believe in God? My initial response was “because,” but then, I paused and thought more about it. Why do I believe in God? If there is a God, why do so many dreadful things happen? As my scientific friends would say, what proof do I have?

I sat and thought, and then, I began to speak. I told Nick that I actually believe in God because there is no proof and because terrible things occur. The world is not perfect; therefore, there is a God.  God can make mistakes just like me. If God is allowed to be imperfect, then so am I. In fact, if God is revered because of his blunders, then perhaps imperfection is special, even somewhat holy. Sacred texts say that we are made in God’s image. This leads to believe that if I am clumsy, then, maybe, God is sometimes clumsy. If I am dishonest, then maybe, there are times when God is dishonest. If I slip into a slump, maybe God falls into slumps too. Maybe God, like me, is not cheerful all of the time and needs to find something to make him happy again.

The fact that millions and millions of people around the world worship a being that is not entirely faultless is a comfort to me. Living in a society where the common person continuously seeks perfection, the belief in an almost human God makes me feel valued. If entire cultures and religions build their lives and history around a being that makes mistakes, then my imperfections shouldn’t be a source of shame. Instead, they should be a source of joy, for  they bring me closer to God.