God, we’ve made you too small.
Too small to handle our problems and pain,
Too small to have the answers,
Too small to create new possibilities
where all doors seem to be locked.
Our problems are big in our eyes.
They loom over us and speak defeat
into our hearts and minds.
They tell us, “There is no good future
for you.”
And your voice is silenced.
because we believe the lie that says
all hope is gone.
We’ve made you too small.
We’ve made you too boring, God.
We’ve heard that there’s life in You—
real, amazing, abundant life—
but we don’t really believe that.
Instead, we believe our cravings and desires,
and we determine that life is more fun
when we give them what they want.
We say, “How could a life of self-control
and healthy limitations be fun?
How could surrender and obedience
lead to passion and feeling alive?”
We don’t see how our saying, “No,” to self
can lead to your “Yes.”
We don’t trust that You who created us
know our potential and will lead us into
a life that causes our greatest potential to
become reality.
We’ve made you too boring.
Oh, God, we’ve made you too nice.
We would much rather hear the message
that you want us to be happy and wealthy
than the truth— that what you really want
is for us to be holy.
But becoming holy means burning away
all that is unholy—
It means taking the ax to the root and unapologetically
killing unholy things like pride, anger, lust, greed.
All the things that keep us
Self-centered
Self-promoting
Self-pitying
Self-righteous
We’ll take your forgiveness.
We’ll let you bless us.
But will we let you
strip us...
sift us…
purge us...
hold us accountable?
We’ve made you too nice.
God, we’ve made you too angry.
We’re afraid of you.
Afraid that the way you’ll deal with us
is to look down,
point your finger at us and say,
“You don’t deserve love, or grace, or forgiveness.”
We’ve made you too judgmental
of everyone we disagree with and dislike.
We take our judgments of others—
our hate,
our prejudice,
our disgust,
And decide that you agree with us,
and you become a god of
wrath, and scorn, and terror.
We take your words and make them say
what we want them to say.
We stifle you.
We limit you.
We shrink you down to a manageable size.
I am just as guilty as the next.
And when I treat you this way—
When I refuse to let You be You
All I am left with is a god that I have made
too much like me.
