In His Image

Some friends and I were talking last week about how many of us were raised with a very harsh image of God.  He just sat "up there" in my childhood waiting for me to mess up and then he was going to smite me.  I lived in fear of being smitten.  Smited?  Smote?  The rod in Psalms 23 was not a comfort to me.  It was hanging over my head.  I imagined God as a mob boss and the angels were his enforcers.  This wasn't a correct image of God (obviously) as the Song of Songs says that I am his Beloved and Zecharaiah says I am the apple of his eye.

Perhaps in response to this oh so negative image, an entire generation is being raised with "Jesus is my homeboy" t-shirts and an idea that God is just okay with everything.  He's now the "whatever" God.  This doesn't ring true, either.  I don't know any of my homeboys who can create an entire universe just by saying, "Make it so."  (Yes.  I had to get a Star Trek reference in here somewhere.)  Exodus says God is a jealous God.  Numbers mentions again and again that the "anger of Jehovah" was kindled against Israel for their sin.  Neither of those things makes it sound like God is just okay with "whatever" including sin.  There is no absolute truth anymore.  God just holds us accountable for what we believe.

I'm thinking the truth is more somewhere in the middle.  If we were created "in His image" as it states in Genesis, then He's probably somewhat like us.  Now, bear with me here.  I'm not saying that we are gods or that He somehow has arms and legs and gets cramps every 28 days.  However, the anger of Mommy is kindled against my kids quite often lately and I haven't "taken a hit" out on either of them.  My enforcers haven't made them any offers they can't refuse or taught them to swim with the fishes.  Neither am I okay with everything they do.  They are held accountable for the boundaries of our household.  For instance, there is no talking before 7 am (and this is for their own safety.)  You may not talk to Mommy or Daddy or each other with a disrespectful tone. If you want your laundry done, you'd better have it in the laundry hamper on laundry day.  I am not a "whatever" mom.  

This is a pretty revolutionary concept for me.  I'm still kind of working on it....

Swing

While the kids played
On a slide streaked black by children's shoes
I rode the swing
For the first time in years.
The clouds swooshed by
Under the last gasp of a summer sun
Before a cold front roared through
With Autumn in her teeth.
It was a moment full of sugar
That instant of belly dropping thrill.
Rhythmically the ride swung
Forward and back through the sticky air
While my hair brushed the wood chips
And my eyelids enjoyed a solar caress.
Higher! I tell myself
As my legs pump the swing
To new heights while the ground falls away
Along with my maturity and reputation.
Children's laughter rolled through the playground
And some of it was mine.