One evening, as I snuggled with my four-year-old in his bed, he looked up at me with wide eyes and asked, “Mommy, what does God look like?”
“Hmm, well, sweetie,” I started, “God can look like many things. We can see God in the beauty around us — in the flowers, the clouds, and the vast ocean. We also witness God in the kindness of people and the love we share.” I continued, recalling a time we helped a man on the street. “Remember when we gave some money to that man who needed food? That was showing God’s presence. And when you share your toys with your sister, that’s also a way to show God.” As I spoke, I searched his face for understanding, hoping my explanations were sufficient.
After a moment of contemplation, he responded, “Okay, but can you just show me a picture of God on your phone?”
Ah, the simplicity of childhood, trying to fit the enormity of God into a neat little box, where all you need is a quick search on your phone. My kids’ big questions demand clear answers, yet as a mom who has been rethinking her own faith for years, I find myself struggling to provide responses that are convincing — not just for them, but for myself as well.
Honestly, I find discussing faith with my kids more daunting than talking to them about sex. At their ages of six and four, they’re simply curious about how they came to be in my belly. But God? How do I explain God in a way that encourages their curiosity without scaring them, and keeps them open to spirituality without the fear-based control I experienced?
It took me nearly four decades to break free from a perception of God that demanded I suppress my curiosity, intellect, and common sense to gain His approval. Now, I view the Bible not as a rulebook for moral behavior, but as a collection of stories that provoke far more questions than they answer. I can’t help but question those who say, “God said it, I believe it, that settles it.” Such sentiments seem not only intellectually lazy but also misleading. The Bible is filled with contradictions, and there are scholars who devote their lives to studying its interpretations. Sorry, but the matter cannot be that simple.
As a child, I was taught to fear a God who once wiped out humanity with a flood, saving only a select few. The lesson was clear: obey God, or face destruction. But now? I realize that humanity is perfectly capable of wreaking havoc on this planet without divine intervention. Watching children advocate for climate action makes it evident that we could be facing a very real hell here on earth if we don’t change our ways. How, then, do I explain this to my children? How do I tell them that their future may be jeopardized because of our actions today?
I’ve never been one to advocate for total destruction. People and systems are complex, and often there are valuable aspects worth preserving. I don’t want to completely turn my kids away from faith, yet I worry about the impact of American Christianity and its political entanglements on their worldview. How can I ignore the strings pulled by those who masquerade as benevolent while perpetuating control and fear?
The thought of my children growing up without some form of spirituality feels strange and unsettling to me. But why? Much of what I once cherished about the church now repulses me, as I realize that what I thought was love was often control. It’s not love to dictate what a girl can do with her body, or to tell half the population they’re unworthy of the pulpit based on gender. Is it possible to sift through the confusion and separate the essence of God from the harsh realities of organized religion?
One thing I am determined about—my children will not grow up believing they are worthless or that their bodies are shameful. They won’t be taught to interpret the Bible literally. When they ask me what God looks like in the future, I’ll show them images of children advocating for climate justice, and pictures of themselves, too. Because what good is a belief in a loving God without also embracing a God of justice? Though their big questions sometimes make me squirm, I welcome them; they challenge me to confront my doubts and refine my beliefs.
Summary
In this reflective piece, a mother grapples with how to explain the concept of God to her young children amidst her own evolving beliefs about faith and spirituality. As she navigates their innocent inquiries, she struggles to reconcile her past experiences with the church and the fear-based teachings she received. Ultimately, she aims to foster a sense of justice and love in her children’s understanding of God, while encouraging their curiosity without imposing restrictive beliefs.