I want to tell you a story. A story of ideas, experience, and their intricate dance.

Over the course of my life, one of the things I’ve been passionate about (for better or for worse) is the pursuit of theological knowledge. And that passion has lead me to explore all sorts of theological perspectives. My own varied Christian heritage, one of Mennonite, Pentecostal, and Charismatic flavor certainly added to my love of ideological exploration.

In one period of my life, about 11 years ago, I began to explore Reformed/Calvinist theology. My experience of this theological system was at first exhilarating! Calvinist thought attempts to answer so many questions and mysteries, with the foundation of those answers being that God is in total control of everything. I began to see my life as a painting that God was constantly creating. I looked at every tree and every cloud as if God had perfectly intended for me to see it, because He controlled everything, including me! It truly brought a sense of beauty to my life that I hadn’t experienced before and haven’t lost since. That was the first time I learned to be in the moment, drinking in the goodness of the present.

However, as I began to dig deeper, my heart began to become troubled. Variations of Reformed thought were teaching me that people were in hell because God put them there. That God knowingly created a human to damn them to eternal torment. In versions of Calvinism where that wasn’t the case, I was still troubled by their answers for disease, war, and suffering. The answers always came down to some form of the following thought, “It brings glory to God.” I found this answer to be the underpinning of so many, if not all, Reformed doctrines. It was all about God looking as good as possible, that somehow even extreme suffering and death were really good things, because God had authored them.

I was bothered because this started to make me think that God might have narcissistic tendencies. Those tendencies defined in a psychological setting include selfishness, a sense of entitlement, a lack of empathy, and a need for admiration. Whether it was God intending a human for hell (lack of empathy) or everything being about bringing glory to God (need for admiration), I was really having trouble with this system that had at first blessed me immensely.

It would’ve been easy to throw out those thoughts if not for the extreme dependence on the Bible that one sees in Reformed circles. It was actually my interaction with these ideas that gave me my love and respect for the scriptures that I still have today. Reformed thought uses the scriptures incredibly well to defend their ideas; there are countless scriptures that can be used to prooftext even the most troubling doctrines. And if you adhere to the idea of Sola Scriptura, Reformed arguments carry powerful weight. 

I mentioned that I’ve been passionate in my life about pursuing ideas. I’ve also been passionate about pursuing mystical experience with God, longing and yearning to know the God of Jesus deeply and honestly. From a young age, I experienced God’s presence in a multitude of ways. I was lucky to be surrounded by people who taught me to recognize those experiences for what they were. 

I mention this to bring context to the next part of this story. Several months into my exploration of Calvinism, I went to the young adult small group that I regularly attended at the time. Usually we would only have a discussion on whatever scriptural text or book that we were studying at the time. But on this night in particular, someone had brought their guitar and lead us in some songs. Singing to God has always been the easiest way for me to settle down and connect. So I was quite happy to have the time.

While the music was playing that evening, I just stopped to listen and soak in God’s peaceful, quiet presence. The theological things I’d been wrestling came to mind and started to bother me. So I asked God, “Are these things I’m studying really describing You? Are you just a big narcissist, making everything to bring you glory in some way?” In that moment, God responded to me. It wasn’t an audible voice but a question strongly impressed into my heart. I felt God say and ask, 

“Andrew, you know Me. Am I like that?”

Instantly the confusing swirl of questions and concerns about the character of God abated. It was as if a tempest had suddenly lifted, and the sun was shining through disparate remnants of storm clouds. I just KNEW that God wasn’t like that. That God doesn’t do things to make God look good or for selfish ends. It was so simple and so easy how my heart just shifted in that moment. In considering John 17:3, it was like I was tasting eternal life, getting an unfiltered dose of God’s character.

God isn’t interested in praise or admiration the way that we humans can be. Throughout my life, I’ve struggled with replacing intimacy with attention; I promise you that this is a cheap counterfeit. It is a great relief to realize that I had projected my own struggles on to God, attempting to define the Creator by my own wounds. God is not a celebrity, looking for the next PR stunt to stay relevant. God is a lover, a pursuer of true intimacy. I believe this with all of my heart, that God’s priority is quality relationships at every level. God isn’t looking for credit; God is looking for love.