God Isn’t Too Lofty
Hi, I’m Joni Eareckson Tada, and I love God. I really do!
But it was not always that way. Growing up, I wouldn’t say that I really loved God. Uh, uh. No. I kinda liked Him; I heard lots of great stories about Him, the God who scattered galaxies, supernovas. But did I love Him? No, I think I just respected Him, sort of. As a teenager, I would look up into the night sky, and I’d think about God setting stars and suns spinning in motion, ladling out rivers, puckering up mountain ranges. I respected God because He was big. Really big. He needed no one and did nothing to seek anyone’s favor. God was lofty, magnanimously absorbed in matters of the universe. I believed Him to be content, and self-sufficient, and He was kind of like happy being up there.
I think that’s the way a lot of people look at God. He’s happy up there, but here we are, mankind, down here drowning in misery, right? We’re small. Really small compared to Him, so how do we know that He even thinks about us? That was the way I looked at God after the diving accident in which I broke my neck. He was way too big to be interested in me; my world revolved around bedpans, physical therapy, pressure sores, wheelchairs, and batteries that needed to be charged. God just seemed too distant to be interested in that stuff, in the dreariness of life. He was too lofty. He was too far out there, remaining at an arms-length distance from my pain. To me He was uncaring, unfeeling and too far away to be concerned about an obscure teenager stuck in a hospital.
But then! Christian friends kept telling me about Jesus. They showed me in the Bible that God was not at a distance, uncaring, unfeeling when it came to my suffering. Oh, true, God may be omniscient and all-powerful; He may be lofty, but He’s not so high-and-mighty up there in His ivory tower that He does not feel my pain or your pain. Because the same God who is involved in the affairs of the universe, knows me; He loves you; and He cares about us. And I know God does, because I came to know Jesus, His Son. Colossians chapter 1 says that the Son is – now get this – “the image of the invisible God.” So, what did God look like when He walked in our sandals? Well, He was likable; He liked people. People in the village of Nazareth enjoyed the kid who worked with His dad in the carpenter’s shop; it says so in the Gospel of Luke that “All spoke well of Him.” Even after God “grew up,” as it were, He had the undying affection of blind beggars, spine-twisted women, and people who ran out of wine at weddings. It was the everyday folks who took to Him – fishermen, spinsters, tax collectors, widows, guys out on parole, half-breeds, bakers, and bag ladies. And the neat thing is, these are the people for whom Jesus has an undying affection.
And all of this touched me deeply as I laid in my hospital bed, feeling forgotten by this high, lofty, magnanimous God way out there; feeling as though He were too important for the likes of me. So, I have to ask you, does God care for you? Is He so invisible, omnipresent, and omniscient that He cannot consider you in your pain? Well, listen to the words of Jesus where it concerns your heavenly Father; He says, “I tell you the truth, whatever the Father does the Son also does.” That tells us that the Father, for all His grandeur and loftiness, He loves the likes of you; even beggars and bag ladies. The Father loves you just as much as the Son does. Like the worship song goes, “How deep the Father’s love is for us; how vast beyond all measure.” Yep, God’s love covers the universe; it sure does. But His love also covers you.
© Joni and Friends
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Finding God in Hidden Places
Joni invites you to join her as she explores the presence of a holy God in hidden places. Stories from her own life shine in this collection of gathered memories. Readers will recall quiet, out-of-the-way moments in their own lives when God was present—both in happy and sad times. Words of encouragement, comfort, and insight leave the soul satisfied and longing to be closer to a loving Father, who often shows up when least expected.
