A few days ago, I purchased a two-pack of “tuff” toys for Tori. The box promised they were made to withstand rough play. Both toys are now mere shells of their former selves. I’ve picked up stuffing several times a day, and the only reason there’s no more to pick up is that there’s no more left in the toys. The thing is, I repeatedly told Tori to take it easy on her new toys, that she’d destroy them too quickly and be sorry. The fact that she didn’t understand shouldn’t surprise me.
Often, when I talk to Tori, she sits with her head tilted and eyes locked on mine. She looks like she understands every word. But she doesn’t. She knows a few that matter to her: walk, treat, outside, bed, and a few more. She knows her name. She understands tone. And she understands the word “no,” though she often chooses to pretend she’s never heard it before. But the truth is, no matter how much I love her, there’s a limit to what she can grasp.
I wonder if that’s something like our relationship with God.
Psalm 139:6 tells us that true knowledge of God is too wonderful for us, so high that we can’t attain it. Psalm 145:3 says, “Great is the Lord, and greatly to be praised; his greatness is unsearchable.” Paul writes in 1 Corinthians 13 that “now we see, dimly, in a mirror,” but one day we shall see face to face.
The truth is, the words we use to describe God are just as limited as Tori’s vocabulary. We sometimes use impressive words to describe God – omnipotent, transcendent, glorious, holy – but we don’t fully understand them. At other times, we use more personal words to describe God – friend, father, helper – that aren’t wrong but certainly don’t convey the full truth.
We’ve learned some words, but how much do we comprehend?
I think, like Tori, we’re doing the best we can with what we have. We can grasp a few key things about God: love, forgiveness, comfort, and peace. The glory and greatness of God, however, exceed us. The fullness of God eludes us.
But that’s ok. In fact, it’s better than okay. Because if I could fully understand all there is of God, God wouldn’t be God, and my faith wouldn’t be faith. Perhaps, at the end of the day, the heart of faith is both seeking understanding and trusting without understanding.
This meditation brought to you courtesy of Tori, who, as I type, is lying next to me and snoring. Her limited understanding doesn’t prevent her from trusting me. She follows me, looks at me, reaches for me, rests near me, and responds to my voice. She probably knows that more toys are in her future. Just as she knows the essence of me, we can know the essence of God … and that’s enough. Have a blessed day!
