God is NOT Santa Claus

For the most part, I've never really doubted that God has loved me. I've doubted that He's all that considerate at times, but never really doubted the love. But what kind of love has it been? Or more specifically, what kind of love have I perceived it to be?

I didn't realize it for a long time, but I see God as Santa Claus, to some extent. This being of love and compassion who gives good gifts to those who are deserving.

That's nice. It's not much more than nice, but it is that, to be sure.

I've always seen God most clearly through others, through the lips, hands, and feet of those who reside in these mortal bodies. God outside of the flesh has often seemed distant, unconcerned, irrelevant. But should it be so?

Despite feeling that God appears to offer little outside of Their expression in humanity does little to suppress the fear that the good gifts I receive in others will be taken away, so as not to distract me from the Giver. But when I focus on the Giver I feel...unknown and alone. This should not be.

The love I receive from others is a mere drop in the bucket of love that my Creator has for me, yet I seldom perceive it as such. Why not?

Because God is Santa Claus.

Through broken human relationships in my life I've come to see God as loving but impersonal, at least in the sense that my thoughts and feelings and worries and fears and hopes are all but irrelevant to such a supreme and omniscient being.

I am loved, for certain, but not in the way I need, not in the way that quells the yearning for affection that I so desire. In this picture God remains aloof and unconcerned, unable to provide the 'known-ness' that I desperately need. My deepest struggles and addictions have proven this over and over again.

So how do I reclaim the picture of God as Lover and I as the Beloved? I'm not entirely sure.

Nevertheless, this realization will bring transformation, however slow and painful it may become.

I am thankful that the true character of God is far superior to my distorted caricature.