Who Is God That We Should Submit?

I am God, and there is no other. By myself I have sworn…: “To me every knee shall bow, every tongue shall swear.” (Isaiah 45:22-23)

On the face of it, this passage seems exceptionally self-serving: it makes God sound like an autocratic medieval king. But there’s at least one good reason to “bow the knee” that has nothing to do with accumulation of glory.

To understand this, start with a definition of God that is disarming in its simplicity: God is love (1 John 4:8). It’s easy to gloss over those three little words, but their effect on our understanding of God can be life-changing. The image of God as the big judge in the sky fades; in its place, we are left with God as the ground of self-giving, a wellspring of extravagant love bestowed upon the universe.

If that’s the case, what are we doing when we “bow the knee” to God? Not just yielding our will to a larger will, but imitating that self-giving love. By doing so on a daily basis, we become more and more like Love himself—and from there it is an easy step to give of ourselves to others.

Perhaps this new perspective could make an impact far beyond us as well. If our primary view of God ceases to be the big judge in the sky, perhaps we stop seeking to judge and drawing dogmatic distinctions. If we relate to God as the ground of self-giving, perhaps we focus more on our own self-giving. If, as in traditional Christian thought, we see Jesus as God fully identifying with the human race, perhaps we too seek to identify with and understand the other. That might lead to more compassion and more peace.

Can God be reduced to three little words? Of course not. From what I’ve seen in the scriptures and my own life, God is so infinitely complex—and so impenetrably mysterious—that no words can capture the divine essence. Still, God is love, I suspect, gives us a glimpse into that very essence. And if we place that glimpse at the core of our understanding of God, we just might bear more of the fruit that the world so desperately needs.

The Four Seasons and How to Tolerate Them

A few years ago, I found myself complaining about the weather all too frequently. I decided I needed to restrict my kvetching to just one season. So I chose my least favorite: summer.

Now I may even have to repent of that.

In a recent posting on his weekly blog, Br. Bede Thomas Mudge, the prior of Holy Cross Monastery, discussed the need to accept the seasons for what they are—and the energy that comes from doing simply that. The idea is to let go of the complaining and the steeling oneself against (in my case) the unremitting heat and humidity and the unpleasant person it makes me.

And unpleasant is the word for it. My concentration dwindles to zero, often making prayer a joke. My irritability goes through the roof. My lethargy leaves me not caring whether those work projects get done by the due date. Et cetera.

So if I simply accept summer—and my reaction to it—what happens?

Suddenly my perspective changes. Maybe it’s a good thing to go through times like this. Every year, like clockwork (or maybe thermometerwork), I get to see the unpleasant side of me, which breeds humility. Even more, I get to embrace the irritability and the lethargy and the et cetera, not as good things, but simply as part of who I am. It gives me a clearer vision of myself—and what is humility if not that?

Of course, this experience is hardly unique—as anyone familiar with St. Paul can attest. To keep me from being too elated, a thorn was given me in the flesh, a messenger of Satan to torment me…. Three times I appealed to the Lord about this, that it would leave me, but he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” (2 Corinthians 12:7-9)

For me at least, it’s one thing to read about these experiences; it’s quite another to discover them at work in my own life—and to start recognizing them for the blessings they are.

P.S. None of this stops me from running the air conditioner when the temp hits 90. Got to keep that irritability from getting out of hand.