What's God Got to Do With It, Got to Do With It?

For a long time I privately scorned people who said that they felt closest to God when they were outside in nature. I also tsked silently at those who did helpful community work without believing in Jesus. I thought I knew everything about being a good Christian. I believed that the main place to find God is in the Bible. If we put Bible knowledge together with active church membership, we had the basics down about living the Jesus way. 

Now I find myself humming a revised, hopeful version of Tina Turner’s cynical song, “What’s love got to do with it?” because I'm finding that God shows up everywhere. Instead of a constant evaluation of myself, of others, and of God, my Christian faith feels more like an exciting, slightly scary game of Hide-and-Go-Seek at night with all the neighbourhood kids. Where’s God now?

It was shocking to hear a preacher expressing haughty disapproval of another minister’s sermon. He also mocked  the presumed tech ignorance of attendees at an earlier morning church service, because they were mostly older people. Then he whined that since he shows respect for a certain alien group, they should respect him, too. 

How could he study the bible for decades and yet blithely display such mean attitudes? I decided I was done with his pulpit performances. 

But… his church reaches out to the neighbourhood with food and clothing banks, 12-step programs, and other free services.  They help women’s shelters, homeless folk and prostitutes. Men from a nearby biker clubhouse have become friendly neighbours.
What's God got to do with this church? Despite the preacher’s glaring weaknesses, God's compassion shows up.

This summer, the world news is screamingly ugly, but yesterday I saw a ten-foot tall Rose of Sharon bush covered in huge snowy blossoms, each centre splashed with wine-red. I wanted to fall on my knees in awe. Nature's beauty persists.

As I passed a woman on the sidewalk, I wished her “Good Morning” and then cringed a little when she immediately stopped to offer me a brochure from the Jehovah’s Witnesses religion. With a smile, I assured her that I already read the bible and didn’t need her educational pamphlet. Turning to walk on, I touched her arm and said, “Enjoy God’s love!” 

To my delight, she answered, “You, too!”
Connection.

One morning I lay in a comfy hammock in the backyard trying to meditate and pray, but next door, roofers blasted loud pop music. They kept time to the radio with their whacking hammers. I growled with frustration until one familiar tune made me stand up and dance a little bit on the lawn.

Party God.

After mowing the lawn on a hot August day, I paused for a sweaty minute to look at my front ditch bursting with lovely flowering Cosmos plants. Hundreds of them spring up every year without a lick of effort from me, the very picture of grace. Honeybees toured the weaving pink blossoms. In the bright sunlight I spied one tiny bee of a different species. Apparently, they’re called “metallic” bees. The insect gleamed iridescent green, posing like an art piece on golden stamens encircled by sculpted, rosy petals. Breathtaking technicolour!
Thankyou, Creator!

And then I prayed for patience while I yanked out the contaminating thistles from my next door neighbour's neglected garden. 

Spiritual Hide-and-Go-Seek - where's God in this?
Play on, my friends.