You know what's cool? Marshmallows. The smaller, the tastier, in my opinion. Mini marshmallows are basically cute puffy adorable clouds of heavenly sweetness. Now if you have a campfire handy, if you have one going nearby as you read these very words, then heck, any kind of mallow will do.
Sans fire, the itty bitty ones, even the generic off-brand ones, those are the best. Yum.
Excuse me while I reach for another handful of mini marshmallows. Seriously, these are like the Fred Meyer brand, and they run $1.49 for a one-pound bag, and now it's time for another handful. Dude, there's totally more than half the bag left on the couch next to me. That is so cool! (Pace yourself, me.)
You might say that marshmallows are filling a void in my life. You might say that this divine snack is just what I need right now. You might deduce I was jonesing for some sugar, and that anything sweet could have done the trick. Well, if you're going to say that, I will respectfully reply that ten minutes ago, the chocolate chips looked meh, the ice cream was very untempting, and the cereal got no second looks.
You might then, if you happen to be the exaggerating type, suggest that I had a marshmallow-shaped hole in my gut tonight. Or a marshmallow-shaped hole in my heart. A space in my appetite that could only be filled by miniature sugar clouds.
Truth is -- and we're getting somewhere, I promise, just wait for it -- I didn't know what I wanted before I sat down to dispense the first phood4thot post of the spring. But when I saw these little guys in the cupboard, they felt right. Like they were exactly what I'd been looking for when I entered the kitchen. I just didn't know it yet.
So. If that's the way I've been thinking about God, then here's hoping I wise up pretty fast.
(This post was prompted by another sighting of the phrase common in many Christian circles: "A God-shaped hole in my heart." Philosopher Blaise Pascal coined the phrase in the 17th century, actually using the terms "God-shaped vacuum in the heart of every man.")
Long ago, I came to the realization that negative definitions of God are especially significant to me. I may not know what God is like, but I feel pretty confident that God is not the world's manager, nor a slave to human emotions like jealousy and relief, is not a hateful being, and is just plain not knowable -- at least not in such a way as we could adequately express. Mostly because God is inhuman. Ever tried to maintain a relationship with a river? Or a comet? Or the color blue? (That last option sounds intriguing.)
Trying to define God is challenging. But by closing off a handful of doors here and there, I've gained a certain spiritual equilibrium. I've managed to broker a cease-fire between the forces of doubt and faith. So if I can add another helpful sign along the road that is my spiritual journey, you bet your bag of marshmallows I'm going to seize the opportunity.
So here's what that sign reads: God can't be a need we fill. Or an answer to a need we allow God to fill. (Full meta will be achieved in one more clause, so here's a change of tack.)
God can't be the answer to "Why is my life incomplete?" Because then, it's just too easy to shape God into what I decide I need at that moment, or that phase in life. And while I'm perfectly willing to stipulate that a deep devotion to God can make people happier, more driven, more peaceful, I'd like to suggest that's because we want to be more happy, more successful and closer to peace. So of course, when we find that avenue to what we wanted all along, and we travel down it, of course we get excited about nearing the destination for which we were aiming.
God isn't a means to happiness.
More tritely put, God is not a late-night mini marshmallow. No, that would be an insult to either God or marshmallows. An insult for which I deeply apologize. To both of you. I'm sorry. Whichever one of you I should be sorry toward, I am. Sorry. Please, let's move on.
Did I mention these things are delicious?
