If I could encourage you in one way, it might be this, that you not approach God with a single question and then seek to determine what you think about God based on his answer to that question.
Far too many of us approach God this way, with our single question in hand, a test for God, if there ever was one, to see if he measured up to our ideas of what he should be like. Based on his response we then determine whether he is worth our love.
The problem with this approach is that it is too simplistic. If there really is a God, it would be impossible to know everything that there is to know about him from a single question. Further, I wouldn’t even want someone to judge my worth–and certainly not base their love for me–on any single question they may ask, no matter how positively I can answer the question! If before I were married my future wife came up to me and said, “do you like ice cream?” and I responded that I did, she may love me for the moment but be quite disappointed when she finds out that I don’t like having a conversation after 7 pm. If my desire for ice cream were the only thing true of me, or at least, the only thing she knew to be true of me, then her love would be so incomplete for me that it is only marginally better than no love at all. Indeed, it may even be worse, since her knowledge of me is so small that there is a high likelihood that, in the future, she will find out things about me that she will eventually grow to hate.
On the other hand, she may ask me a much more important question than my regards for ice cream. For example, she might ask me if I ever get very angry. And I would have to respond that I did, at times, get extremely angry. I may yell and curse when I get angry, although it is not the norm. If my future wife determined that I was not worth loving because of the way I answered that singular question, it would be just as tragic or worse than if she loved me based solely on my affinity for ice cream. Her knowledge remains incomplete; she cannot possibly understand me based on whether or not I like ice cream or whether or not I ever got angry.
Too often we approach God with singular questions intended to call him out, or characterize him into someone we can understand. Sometimes we do it so we can love him based on his answer, sometimes we do it because we already hate him, but it would be much easier if we had a reason. At best, the questions are a reflection of our heart; they cannot reflect the full truth of God.
If I were to approach God and ask him if he could ever forgive me, for example, the answer would be a resounding ‘Yes!’ Yes, he can forgive you! But to ask that question, no matter how positive the response, is to have a severely limited view of God. It may be the answer we were looking for, and even hoping for, but it is not the answer we ultimately need. Knowing that forgiveness is possible is an entirely different proposition than knowing how to attain that forgiveness; knowing that God can forgive without knowing how or why he forgives is incomplete. And, much the same as my wife loving me based on ice cream is dangerous, so loving God with such an incomplete knowledge of God is dangerous as well. For if I leave his presence and all I know is that he can forgive, but I forgot to ask him how, then it may be that I will never receive the forgiveness that I had been inquiring about in the first place.
I may also approach God and attempt to force him into a corner. How many would love to question whether or not God brought about the latest suffering, or the cancer, or allowed their sibling or parent to die at such a young age? We approach him with indignation and demand from him, “did you let this happen?” When he answers “yes”, as we assumed He would, there is no need for further questioning. That one answer gave us all that we need to know; we have no interest in a God who would allow that type of pain in our lives.
The problem is in our assumption that God’s knowledge is as limited as our knowledge. Our rationale goes something like this: If I cannot possibly picture a reason why this suffering may have come upon me, then it must not possible that there is a reason at all. My future spouse would be operating according to that rationale if she chose not to give me a chance after finding out that I sometimes get very angry. The problem, of course, is that she may not know why I get angry, nor has she even considered the possibility that there may be a reason for someone to be very angry. She has made her choice; she cannot picture a reason for someone to ever get angry, and so a reason must not exist. In the same way many of us miss out on God because we don’t like his answer to a singular question. We hear his answer and determine that it’s all we need to know. God is not worth our time.
And so we’re back at the beginning: do not approach God with one question that you believe will be the silver bullet for determining whether or not God is someone who should be loved. Rather, ask the deeper questions; the ones that lay beneath your desire to have an answer to the one you think is so pressing. Perhaps there is more to God than you originally thought. Perhaps he loves you more than you know. Perhaps the answer to the question you once thought so important that it could not wait will eventually be found to be meaningless, in light of the wonder of who God really is.
Are you willing to find that out?