More Than Words

My mom recently told me the story of how I learned to read.

“We’d be driving down the road, and with every sign we passed, you’d chime from the back, ‘What’s that say? What’s that one say?’ After a while you could sound them out without help.”

I’ve always loved words. Sometimes I’ll play this game when traveling: I’ll look out the window but I’m not allowed to read any signs. It’s really hard. I’m one of those font nerds, too; I’ll see a billboard and think, That looks familiar…oh, it’s Century Gothic. To take this obsession even further — “words” is the theme of my upcoming wedding. We’re even having a Scrabble cake.

Words play a substantial role in my life. But lately I’ve sensed God challenging me on how much emphasis I put on their meaning, especially words that I deem true about His character. If someone asked me, “So what’s God like?”, I could easily rattle off a list of His attributes: loving, faithful, holy, just, sovereign, unchanging, gracious, strong.

But do I really believe that about God?  How do words lose their power and end up just marks on a page?

In his book, The Knowledge of the Holy, A.W. Tozer makes a bold claim: “The most portentous fact about any man is not what he at a given time may say or do, but what he in his deep heart conceives God to be like.” He explains that our life and choices stem from how we view God. This tells me that words true about God need to be true in my day-to-day existence, not just nice sounds coming out of my mouth or artsy fonts sprawled across my blog.   

Ok, so I pick a few words and hold them up against my everyday reality.

Trustworthy.  God is trustworthy, I can say that. It’s biblical. It’s true.

But if God really is trustworthy, then why do I worry? Why do I stay awake at night, plagued by what-ifs? Why do I let fear make my decisions?

Another one: powerful. I believe that, right?

Then why don’t I pray—about everything? Doesn’t he say that all things are possible with Him?

Strong.

God is strong? Then why do I use my weakness as an excuse when He’s calling me to a higher road?

Generous.

Then why don’t I ask?

Healer.

Then why do I hold my wounds up to the world’s false remedies?

Holy.

Then why do I treat sin with such a casual attitude?

Loving.

Then why do I approach His throne with anything less than confidence, secure in His love and in what Jesus did through his death and resurrection?

How do I view God? Do I see these words as His outfits, something He can put on and take off, something true about him sometimes but not at other times?  Or do I see them as His very nature, as who He is?

In John 18:37, Jesus tells Pilate that “for this reason I was born, and for this reason I came into the world, to testify to the truth.” I think he means the truth about what God is like. He came to a world very confused about who God is, and he lived a life of demonstration. It’s as if he took one word at a time, and he didn’t just say them. He showed them.

 “God is compassionate.” So Jesus went out and healed the blind, lame, leprous.

“God is holy.” He drove the money changers and merchants out of the temple.

“God is sovereign.”  He baffled Mary and Martha by letting Lazarus die, a greater purpose in mind.

“God is loving.” He took our punishment upon himself.

Are these just words to me? Or do I see them as truth about God that I’m desperate to imitate?

I’m drawn to words, and I love that God made me this way. I can’t wait until my own children ask me about those words flying past the car window. But I’m in constant prayer that the shapely ink marks and rich sounds won’t fade into meaninglessness or render me callous to the reality they represent. I need their truths about the Living Word to shape me into His likeness and propel me into worship.