What does God think about you?
Take a breath and a long pause and ask yourself that question.
Of all the questions I like—and I love questions—this has become one of the most ground-breaking for me. I suppose the question seems obvious, until you try to answer it.
There are other versions: how does God feel about me? If God were to offer a final judgment of me right now, what would it be?
The more I have asked friends, family, co-workers, and many I have had a part in discipling, the more I have become enamored with the power of this question. I like it in part because of what it reveals about our fundamental insecurities. I like the way it shows us to what extent we have let the light of God wash over the dark corners of our consciousness…or not.
One friend answered, “Well, God knows my heart. He knows I’m a sinner. He knows I’m trying.” As he stumbled over his words, his eyes drifted, and he acknowledged the discomfort of where the question was taking him. He finally articulated, “I hope one day I will have done enough to get in.”
Into what? Heaven? God’s favor? It was a poignant moment where his fundamental insecurity was revealed, his genuine lack of trust in God’s provision for his forgiveness was articulated, and he and I both realized that deep down, he didn’t feel forgiven. He might have felt trusted enough to rent the Christian life and to even promote himself as a spiritual leader to be followed. But underneath all the smiles and the striving, he did not feel forgiven. But, friend, what does God think about you?
“I suppose the question seems obvious, until you try to answer it.”
I’ve had other fascinating answers to this question. One person could answer all the right questions when asked Sunday-School Style (Yes, Jesus died for my sins…Yes, I am forgiven…Yes, I know Jesus provided the way and I cannot earn my way into Heaven…). Yet they suddenly broke character at “What does God think about you?” Pause. “I really don’t know if I’m going to get in…”
Another one of my most trusted leaders drifted around the question, stroked his proverbial beard as he mused on what others would likely say, and finally admitted, “This is really hard for me to answer.”
I have had people appeal to the age-old, “I know it in my head, but I don’t know it in my heart.” While I get the sentiment, I don’t know exactly what it means. You acknowledge the fact, but you don’t feel as though it is true? If you put no weight of confidence in it and do not live as though it is true, how can you say you acknowledge it as “fact”?
I spoke with a gentleman one time who was legally married, separated for many years, and looking to marry another woman. He and his wife had done more than drift. He said in his own rambling defense, “I haven’t felt married for twenty-five years.” I had to point out that he was, nevertheless, married. Marriage is a legal standing, not a sentiment.
Is salvation a “legal” standing or a sentiment?
“I had to point out that he was, nevertheless, married. Marriage is a legal standing, not a sentiment.”
I am familiar with the anxiety and almost-guilt that comes with the looming possibility of punishment. You probably know the feeling. You don’t remember the light turning yellow, and suddenly, it’s red—but you’re already a third of the way through the intersection. You hadn’t been texting, just checking your phone’s map, and the light sort-of snuck up on you (although technically, it wasn’t moving; you were). If you remember right, you’ve received one of those “citations” from a hidden traffic camera in this general vicinity. You really don’t want to get another one. Guess you’ll have to wait and find out.
That’s how a lot of Christians feel when they consider what God must think of them.
It’s not hard to see how Christians arrive at this anxiety and guilt. Deep down, you are not going to feel forgiven if it is the paycheck for work done well, and you know you sometimes don’t show up for work. When you don’t feel forgiven, you can try to fix it by doubling-down on your efforts and re-committing yourself to doing better—but, sadly, our strength of willpower can be fairly seasonal.
“We so easily muddle up the courtroom scene by forgetting whether we’re supposed to be the defendant or whether we’re the judge and jury.”
“I don’t feel forgiven” can sometimes feel like a safe and righteous sentiment to hold onto. Why? It’s because we so easily muddle up the courtroom scene by forgetting whether we’re supposed to be the defendant or whether we’re the judge and jury. It can feel right to create a toxic, legalistic environment in the secrecy of our own hearts, and to grill ourselves as if we are God’s stand-in judge over this particular jurisdiction.
“What does God think about you?” Often, we’re not sure how to answer. That’s why I always ask a follow-up.
“Based on what?”
Let’s consider that God’s perspective matters more than the winds and waves of ours. I like that when Jesus woke up, stood up, and spoke up, the winds and the waves calmly subsided and dutifully obeyed.
“Let’s consider that God’s perspective matters more than the winds and waves of ours.”
What does God think about you? Why don’t you let him be judge and listen to his verdict on you:
“For God in all his fullness was pleased to live in Christ, and through him God reconciled everything to himself. He made peace with everything in heaven and on earth by means of Christ’s blood on the cross. This includes you who were once far away from God. You were his enemies, separated from him by your evil thoughts and actions. Yet now he has reconciled you to himself through the death of Christ in his physical body. As a result, he has brought you into his own presence, and you are holy and blameless as you stand before him without a single fault. But you must continue to believe this truth and stand firmly in it. Don’t drift away from the assurance you received when you heard the Good News.” (Col. 1:19-23 NLT)
