Two Conceptions of God and a Summer Storm

Last weekend my wife and I were in our weekend home in a rural area of eastern Virginia. A tornado, or perhaps a “micro-burst,” swept through the area and downed thousands of trees in a matter of minutes. The storm came suddenly, bringing hurricane-like winds and torrential rain with almost no warning. It lasted no more than ten minutes. Within a half hour, the sun was back out and it was possible to examine the devastation. We learned that the damage was very localized, limited to a few square miles. The drive to our house was littered with huge trees that had been snapped by the wind. By hiking up the drive and crawling under and over downed trees, we were able to make it to the road that led to the highway. To our dismay, it was also covered with huge trees. Even if we were able to clear the drive, the road to the highway was blocked, too.

There was no way to leave except by boat. We had no equipment (or the skill) to move such huge trees. We could only pick up small branches in our yard, but that seemed pointless. We knew that hundreds of other families were experiencing the same devastation. Neither one of us had experienced such a storm or such damage to our own property. We were discouraged and confused.

In another hour, though, things began to change. Across the creek, we could hear chain saws cutting through fallen trees. We met our next door neighbor coming up our shared drive. He had been working when the storm hit, but he had parked a mile away and hiked up to his house, crawling over and around snapped trees. He told me other neighbors—who did have the right equipment-- were already working to push aside the massive trees that had fallen on the road. In a few hours, they hoped to cut their way to our drive and begin clearing a path for us, as well. Perhaps we would not need to escape by boat after all..

As I reflected on this experience later, it occurred to me that it is possible to imagine two very different conceptions of God emerging from the storm. The first is the traditional conception of God, an omnipotent being who had become a powerful wind, passing over a village and punishing those who had offended him. Imagine pre-scientific humans, trying to understand such sudden and localized devastation. It would have been natural to assume a god was angry about something. Perhaps the damage would have been so great that the story of the storm would be told over campfires and repeated year after year, perhaps becoming part of the cultural history of the tribe. Over the generations, the story would evolve into a comprehensible legend. Perhaps a pillar of fire would be added at some point, as well as a description of the events that supposedly led up to it.. The legend would make a powerful point about what kind of behavior is offensive to the gods – perhaps even to the God of the Old Testament.

The other conception of God that emerges from the storm is one that makes sense to modern humans who realize powerful winds are not divinely inspired. Within hours of the storm, neighbors were helping each other recover. People were working side by side in the hot, humid air, cutting a path to each other’s doors because it was the right thing to do. There was genuine unqualified compassion for each other, even among those who had never met. No, it will not be permanent, and we will probably drift back to our own patios and boats, and simply wave to each other now and then. But we had the great privilege of seeing others pursue the highest value to which we can aspire. We can think of that highest ideal as God, and loving God as acting on it. Just as our ancestors drew lessons from powerful storms, we can as well.

Is God a Form of Energy?

Polls show that a growing number of Americans do not accept the traditional conception of God described in the Bible. For those that reach this point, the question is: what now? One possibility is to forget about the idea of God altogether. But, if one wants to keep God in his life, it is necessary to rethink one’s conception. In The Uncertain Believer, I suggest what I think is the most persuasive way to view God, but it useful to review a number of other possibilities.

I have heard a number of people suggest recently that they view God as a “divine life force” or a form of “spiritual energy,” perhaps emanating from the universe beyond earth, from a particular place or object, or even from another person, for example, someone who is about to die. As many have argued, humans have always decided what God is. There is nothing wrong with that; we just need to understand what we are doing. The question is what is intellectually persuasive and meaningful for our lives. If one finds meaning in viewing God as a form of divine or spiritual energy, then he has found the right path for himself.

There are several problems with such an idea, however. First, is the energy “supernatural,” that is, a form of energy never observed or confirmed by science? If that is the idea, this conception of God returns us to the mindset of our pre-scientific ancestors, visualizing a God that is purely the product of imagination. We might as well imagine emanations of energy from trees and rocks in the same way that pre-scientific humans viewed natural objects as divine. For example, among the magnificent rock formation near Sedona, Arizona, it is possible to visit spots that are claimed to be “energy vortexes” discovered by Indians centuries ago. Tourists hike to these spots, and having convinced themselves that they are going to feel a surge of energy when they get there, they do! The reality is that they are probably experiencing a surge of emotion based on anticipation, just as our pre-scientific ancestors’ emotions were heightened when they approached objects they considered sacred or divine.

On the other hand, if we are attracted by the idea of God as a type of energy confirmed by scientific observations, we have to imagine a God that is some aspect of the electromagnetic spectrum, alongside visible light, X-rays, gamma rays, and so on. That God is certainly real and we do not have to convince ourselves that such a God exists. The problem is figuring out how to love such a God. We can be impressed with radiation, but it makes no sense to be committed to it or feel that it plays a meaningful part in our life.

Finally, there is a problem with both notions of God as divine energy. How does it provide a framework for living? How does it help strengthen our relationships or make our lives more meaningful? In the end, we are left with an undirected mysticism, that takes us wherever we want. We might as well have forgotten the idea of God altogether.